Page 20 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

The sun creeps across the sky. The noise of civilization nearby thrives, but no sounds come closer to where I’m waiting.

The strong urge to run—and my mind trying to fight it—makes my head pound and my heart race. I’m drenched in sweat, sitting in the stagnant heat of a too thick cloak and suffocating hood. Unable to take it anymore, I unfasten it and throw it on the ground with shaking hands as a small trickle of blood escapes from my nose.

It’s been more than a couple hours.

Panic starts to set in when the light of day dips and the promise of dusk comes on in hues of periwinkle and pink.

The fear of being thrust back into solitude sits heavy on my heaving chest.

Something is wrong. I can feel it.

I’m just about to abandon Locane, damn the consequences, when there’s sudden rustling ahead.

Locane comes into view running through the trees with three large men, dressed in gleaming silver armor and black cloaks, hot on his tail. He ducks down as something small zooms past his ear, narrowly missing him.

Locane picks up his pace, racing towards me as he crashes through the dense foliage.

The largest of the men waves his arm in a practiced motion.

I only just notice that he wields no weapon when fire erupts from his hand and he forms it into a large lasso, throwing it towards Locane.

As fire sails through the air—hissing with blazing heat through thick humidity—the large man’s eyes lock with mine and grow wide.

Locane reaches me and grabs me tight around the waist.

The fire wielder curses loudly and stops the force of his magic just before the rope of flames wraps around Locane and I.

“She’s here!Go tell them.Now!”the man screams.

Locane holds me tight and says calmly—as if nothing alarming is happening at all, “Time to go.”

“No! Stop!”the man who recognized me yells, surely realizing what is about to happen.

Another small dart comes flying through the air, right between our faces. It misses Locane’s cheek by a hair’s breadth, sinking into the tree beside us.

Before I have time to process anything, Locane pulls us into the void; the echo of an outraged scream follows us into the pressing abyss.

We reappear still in the forest, but what appears to be closer to the edge as the trees are smaller, newer, and spaced further apart. The lichen that I’ve grown used to seeing is nowhere in sight. The faint outline of the two moons appears on the horizon, illuminating the forest around me in haunting shadows.

My eyes scan around me, expecting to see more men closing in on us, but the woods are silent other than crickets singing in the summer twilight.

Locane stands doubled over with his hands resting just above his knees, his long, black hair curtaining his face. He pants hard and struggles to catch his breath.

“How far did we jump? And who was that?” I fight the urge to cry as my fear swallows me whole.

“Come on,” Locane says, wiping his brow and sluggishly stepping forward. “We have to get within the borders of the wards.”

I don’t move. That familiar tug pulls at me again, harder than ever before. “I want answers,” I say defiantly.

“And I’ve already said you will get them. Those were Brhadirian royal guards, and we need to go.” Locane roughly grabs the top of my arm, dragging me forward and holding me tight enough to make me whimper.

We walk a few paces before stopping.

“Give me your hand.” His breathing is ragged, his voice more hurried and panicked as his eyes search the forest. He’s produced a long, vaguely familiar dagger in one hand and holds the other out expectantly.

“Why?” I ask, burning dread creeping up my throat.

“Godsdamnit with all the fucking questions!” Locane screams with sudden rage, making me flinch. “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HAND!”