Page 5 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)
Chapter
Five
T he moment August realizes where we have folded, his whole body goes rigid in my arms, but he says nothing, just holds me perfectly still. His heartbeat thumps against his chest, the muscles in his back flexing as the sounds of the moss layer sing around us.
How is it possible we stand on Frith? I have never folded more than a few miles. Folding between worlds . . . How did we survive?
“Calliape, are we?” August whispers.
I nod into him. “Yes.”
The dominant arm he holds across my back moves down to check his waistband for a weapon. When an animal screams in the distance, he withdraws it and keeps it loosely at his side. “Fold us back.”
I close my lids again, relying on him to keep my balance, and press on my gift. The tendons in my eyes strain as they roll to the back of my head from the force of focusing. But there is nothing to grab onto. The distance is too great. I cannot take us back. I am terrified to even attempt it.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Try again.” His voice is impatient, his gun now raised and pointing at the sounds that come from the darkness.
“There is nothing on the other side.”
He pulls away just slightly to look at me, his expression battle stricken and wild. “We folded between worlds.”
I nod.
“How?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking of a destination.” My head spins with the stark contrast of being in the temple, of the wind and chaos happening all around us, to now standing in the serene forest. “I’m sorry, August.”
His attention snaps back to me from peering out into the tree-dense terrain. “Don’t be. We will figure this out. We always do.”
His answer is sweet, but it does nothing to ease my worry.
The familiar sound of rain begins with a mist coming through the canopy overhead, filtered by an endless amount of leaves and vegetation.
Instincts specific to the forest ground me in our situation, ones I have not used since departing this world resurfacing, pushing aside emotions that will not serve us at the moment.
I force myself to pull away from his embrace, one that held me up when my legs gave way in the temple and kept its hopeful grasp on me with the possibility of folding back to Cosima.
We are here now, and there is nothing within my power that I can do to change it.
“We should get moving,” I say. “This is just the start. The tree leeches will come out soon.”
“Tree . . . leeches?”
I find my footing among the moss-covered rocks. I am familiar with this portion of the forest, but that advantage won’t matter if we do not get out of the elements. “Yes, and the temperature will drop quickly. This way, there is shelter not far.”
His quick steps are loud behind me as he stays closer than natural. When I glance back, I see his gun is up and ready.
“What sort of shelter?” he asks.
“A cave. And you can put that away.” I gesture over my shoulder at his weapon.
“If we come upon something like what I have seen here before, will you be able to fold us to safety, away from it?” he asks, not to tease but in preparation.
I think for a long time and test a shorter distance. Even the familiar shelter we are headed to is blocked on the other side. Murky fog conceals it, one I am too afraid to push through.
“No, I can’t,” I confess.
“Then I will keep this out.”
I can’t fault him. Everything is different now. So many unanswered questions shrouded in mystery that seem too dangerous to even approach.
The eerie conjunction lighting mixed with the dense forest makes for poor visibility, but my muscle memory from years of walking on the moss leads us right to the cave.
I clap my hands as I enter it, an effort to shoo out any small creatures that may have decided to use it as an escape from the rain as well.
August stands with his back to the entrance as I make sure it’s safe, his body squared in the Viathan battle stance that will do little on this planet in our current circumstances.
“It’s clear,” I mutter over the now steady rainfall.
He ducks his head and enters, staying close to the exit and finding a large rock to sit facing the exterior, the raindrops at the edge creating a dripping curtain to the outside world.
I bump into some supplies that are left here for hunters caught in the same predicament.
“Do you need a light?” A blue beam illuminates the space, shining on the leather pouch of fire rocks and wool.
“Thank you,” I say as he adjusts the beam to follow my movements.
I click the rocks together on the compact fire pit with stones circling it. A small spark falls into the wood and kindling left from the previous occupant, but it will take some effort, as it is likely damp. I strike the rocks together and blow on the embers until the skin on my palms is raw.
The flames build to a steady but modest blaze, the cave transforming into a dry haven. The rough stone walls glow with the orange flames, the smoke just close enough to the entrance to be carried out on the breeze.
I watch August staring out into the darkness, his gun still ready to defend and jaw set.
“You should come away from the opening. The tree leeches can smell you and they are painful to remove.”
He scoots closer, clearing his throat to hide the panic that sets in anytime a horror the forest offers is mentioned.
Frith does not agree with August. He suffered here not only from its harsh environment, but from the spiteful forest itself.
This is likely the last place he wanted to find himself once more.
Another wave of gut-churning guilt sweeps over me.
He did not ask for this. He is simply another casualty to my bad fortune and choices because of his proximity to me.
“Maybe after you rest for the night, we can try again.” He shrugs off his wet outer layer and lays it on the stone next to himself.
I nod, but I know it is not likely.
The reality of being stranded a world away from our friends sets in so hard, I almost choke on it.
I press my hands to my face, but when I close my eyes, I can see Ferren and hear her screaming for Thea, see the creature watching me, taking a sacred stone.
The old god’s blinking orbs pierce through my memory.
I try to wipe away escaped tears but there is no use.
My whole body gives over to them, huffing out a sob, betraying me.
August scoots closer, his side pressed next to mine, his deep exhale swaying me.
I’m too exhausted to even speak to answer questions I assume he has about how the ritual failed, how I brought us here.
Instead, he takes another calm intake of air, as if inviting me to do the same, and just sits with me as I cry.
He doesn’t attempt to make me stop or change my emotions with laughter.
His arm wraps around my shoulders, drawing me close to his warmth and taking some of the burden of holding myself together away, and when my breath finally calms and I can breathe normally, he respectfully removes it.
I wipe off the moisture streaking my face and try to think logically of our situation, tucking my knees into my stomach and hugging myself in a tight ball. My clothes are soaked and the burn on my forearm stings worse than the initial scorch.
We watch the fire in silence for so long, time does not feel like it is passing at all, held hanging in the balance of a dreamlike state. And by the time the rain stops, the first dull conjunction rays of dawn are poking through the slats of the trees just outside our shelter.
The exhaustion of accidentally bringing us such a vast distance has been replaced with sleep deprivation. I don’t even have to attempt to fold again. I know I cannot and I’m so afraid that if I push too hard, we will end up somewhere else or even stuck in the space between.
“August?” I whisper, assuming he has been asleep for some time, his slow, steady breathing a comfort as I sifted through my thoughts and memories of what happened in the temple for hours.
But when he looks over his shoulder, his eyes are clear and present. “You alright?”
I’m unsure of my answer, but for now it doesn’t matter. “We can’t fold back. We have to find another way home.”
August nods, understanding my tone of voice, not objecting or asking more questions, resolving that we will have to brave the terrain in any plan we come up with. “If the beacon is close, we can send a distress signal to Viathan’s fleet.”
“It is not near. And we’ll need to ask permission from the Frithian elders to use it,” I inform him, finally able to conjure logic through my cloudy thinking.
“Alright,” August replies, already sounding more confident in our situation now that I am not falling apart.
“We will go on foot. I won’t risk folding even a short distance. My gift feels different.”
“On foot,” he agrees with a slow nod.
I ignite the lard-covered end of two torches from the cave’s supplies and hand one to him. It will not be a safe trip, but if we start now and keep moving, we will make it to the village to speak with the elders by midday.
“The night predators have finished. It is nearly dawn,” I assure when he looks nervous to take the flaming torch.
“How do you know they are finished?” he asks hesitantly.
“I have not heard prey animals scream for some time now,” I reply. “It is as safe now as it will be. Step where I step.”
His eyes are wide with worry. “Right behind you.”
As I exit the cave onto the mossy forest floor, the sound of the mountain restored to life after a rain-soaked night fills my ears, every insect singing and welcoming me home.
However, the reunion is sour. I have not returned after finding my purpose or harnessing my gifts.
I have unintentionally retreated, but I will do anything within my means to get us back, if not for myself, then for August.