Page 54 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask pitifully.

“I’ve told you the truth now. Please, don’t go. Please. If you leave, they will come for you, Ellya! As soon as you leave the safety of the wards, they will come for you.”

Stilling against his chest, I lean into him ever so slightly before I spit, “Why would I ever stay?”

Locane’s hold breaks as a gush of blood escapes his nose, drenching the strands at the top of my head as I push away from him.

He’s spent. Nothing fucking left. And in so many ways, there’s nothing left of me.

Whoever is after me may come, but at this point I’d rather risk death or a life locked in a cell than spend any more time with this man who has used me for ends that I’m not fully aware of. At this point, I’d rather be a pawn for someone else in this game than be Locane’s.

I run.

My legs scream in protest, but I fight past the heavy weight trying to hold me back. He’s following behind me, but I know he doesn’t have much physical strength left either.

I don’t have an immediate destination in mind. I’ll search for the emerald in the cave before I continue to the Mother Continent somehow on my own. I don’t feel wholly confident, but that’s all I have to go on. I’m certain now that he was so cryptic and vague because he wanted me to need him.

Well, fuck him.

“Where are you going, Ellya?”

Locane is stumbling behind me, keeping up better than I would have hoped given his broken-down state. Pushing myself harder, I run faster. Tears are still streaking down my face, drying as quickly as they fall with warm air rushing past my skin, as I run for my life towards the wards.

The sun hasn’t fully sunk beneath the trees, and the sky is the most mockingly breathtaking watercolor of pinks, purples, andoranges—a true masterpiece of a sunset that laughs in my face with its unrealistic beauty.

The transparent shimmer of the wards becomes clear, and my legs start to shake with effort. A horrifying thought occurs to me as I remember Locane cutting my hand the night we arrived, adding my blood to the wards. I wonder, too late, if that has somehow trapped me here. But judging by the increased desperation of Locane’s yells too close behind me, I don’t think that’s the case.

I make it to the barrier, the anticipation of being so close to being free makes a strangled cry break free. I go through the cold, resistant veil, like wading through thick, sticky taffy. I trudge through the frigid barrier of magic that steals the little breath I have for a brief moment before breaking through on the other side.

I stumble as my momentum picks back up, and I’m not prepared for it.

A memory comes to me on the spot, the visual of a crowded port on a glittering turquoise and green bay packed with ships of all sizes, masts pointing proudly to the endless sky. The word home whispers through my mind. I will my next footfall to land in the black void that will grab me and take me where I want to go.

But my stumble cost me precious seconds, and right before the void pulls me in, a thunderous roar sounds behind me and a tight grip locks on my ankle. I jump with so much conviction, trying to ensure my success, that I easily pull Locane with me.

We are sucked into suffocating nothingness that abates before the discomfort has a chance to take hold.

Gulping in deep breaths of warm, briny air, my eyes scan multiple docks with a few people milling about, finishing the tasks of the day. The squawk of sea birds caw in the sky. The chatter ofmultiple people calls over the hiss of ropes being dragged against wood. I turn my head to take in the rest of my surroundings.

I’m standing on a crescent shaped, stone path. Opposite the docks and water is a long row of market stalls, most closed for the day. Wide roads leading into the heart of the city break through between several stalls.

A broad smile cracks my face with pride over my accomplishment, but then I hear a gasping breath and remember my unwanted tag along. I glance down at Locane still clutching my ankle as if it’s the only thing that tethers him to life. Shaking myself out of his grasp, I stare down on him with disgust and fury. He scrambles to his feet and places his hands on his knees, hunched over and panting.

“You should go rest. You look awful,” I tell Locane unkindly and begin to walk away.

Now that we are away from his secluded home and there are other people around—watching us curiously—I’m infinitely less frightened of him. My preference to face anything else rather than bend to Locane’s whims and plans are still holding strong.

“Please. I’m sorry. I can still help you,” he pants out on labored breaths.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say determinedly.

A couple of sailors glance in our direction but don’t engage.

“Please, Ellya. I’m begging you. We must leave here. We can go to my ship in Brhadir. I will tell you everything when we’re safe.” He gives me a desperate, pleading expression and grabs my hand in his cold, black one. “If we don’t go now none of this matters. In the Mother Continent, I have homes, connections, and more fucking coin than we could ever need to accomplisheverything! We need to get out of Quinndohs, now.”

His tone is ebbing away into his usual impatience. I laugh with stark disbelief, and rip myself free from his grip. I turn and begin to walk away.

“Quit being difficult because I hurt your fucking feelings.”