“No, there’s not.” He wiped his tears away with his palms. “I’m just so relieved, Aza. Your parents are alive!”
Her smirk grew into a tiny smile, but she waved him away. “Oh, I always knew they weren’t dead,” she mumbled to the damp soil beneath her hands.
Witt leaned against the rocks, the air whooshing out of him in a massive gust of a sigh. “Thank Odriel.”
“But we still have a massive problem.”
Witt hummed happily to himself as he popped to his feet. “Yes, but you”—he pointed at her—“are alive.”
“I’m the one who caused all this to begin with.”
“But you are also the only person who can fix it.”
Aza pressed her palms to her forehead. “I’m not sure I can. I tried to fight that thing in the Shadow Plane, Witt.” She chewed her lip. “I hardly made a scratch.”
“That’s because you needed someone to weaken its physical body as well.” He wrinkled his nose at her. “Did you even read the letter?”
Aza threw a dirt clod at him. “Of course I read the letter.”
“And Zephyr and the Maldibor are in Carceroc right now ready to fight this thing.”
She struggled to her feet. “You’re right. We need to get moving.”
“No. Before we go anywhere, you need to eat, recover, and get your strength back.”
Aza rolled her eyes but said nothing. Just standing had made her head spin.
“Besides,” Witt continued, squinting at the cliff walls. “I’m pretty sure the only way to get out of here is up. So, until you’re strong enough to climb, we need to regroup.” He smiled again, a wistful shine in his eyes. “And eat.”
Aza let her shoulders relax and wrapped the cloak around herself tighter. She’d always written Witt off as her brother’s friend, but here he was, beside her at the bottom of all things. The one person she hadn’t scared off.
Her thoughts turned to the holes around their fire that should’ve been filled by Keo’s warm bulk and Shad’s dry sarcasm. She didn’t blame them for abandoning her on her fool’s errand. Especially after the things she’d said. Honestly, she respected them for it. She’d been stupid and stubborn, so they’d made the smart move without her. It’s what she would’ve done.
But it still didn’t keep her from missing them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Moving Forward
The sun bloomed on the valley with fire-lined clouds of navy cotton. Aza stoked their dying fire while experimentally leaning on her bad foot. A dull pain still radiated up her leg, but it would bear her weight. She debated going back into the Shadow Plane to listen for her brother or her parents, but she couldn’t risk alerting Mogens that she was still alive.
They were already a day behind Mogens and Conrad, and if she remembered the map correctly, it would take them at least two days to reach Carceroc on foot. That was two days the Dolobra had to murder her brother, Makeo, and the Maldibor.
She tested her ankle again. It would hold. It would have to.
She turned to where Witt snored, his legs kicking like a ragehound in its sleep. “Wake up, Witt.”
With a groan, he opened one eye. “What?” He passed a hand over his face. “Oh yes, that’s right. We’re in the middle of the wilderness, preparing to scale a cliff, so we can go chase after a monster.”
“We’re leaving now.”
He sat up. “Not before breakfast!”
“We’re running out of time.”
Witt winked with a gleaming smile. “There’s always time for breakfast.”
Aza glared and crossed her arms.
“You know you need it,” he coaxed.
Aza sighed and glanced up at the rockface before them. She really couldn’t argue with breakfast. They would need their strength.
After a hasty meal of berries and a snared rabbit, there was nothing left to do but begin the climb. Hand-over-hand, Aza and Witt pulled themselves up the sheer face to the blackened stone landing that had once held the Wraith-Called of Somisidas.
Catching her breath, Aza let her eyes trail down the smoking wreckage of the monastery. The buildings lay in ashy rubble, the dorms and training rooms all but leveled. Charred and still bodies littered the wreckage in blackened lumps, but Aza couldn’t bring herself to investigate. All that remained were the trail of stairs cut into the cliff between the stone landings.
Maybe the students would be able to rebuild it, but the thought of heaving the timber and supplies up here made Aza’s already raw hands burn.
Witt pulled himself up beside her and collapsed onto the rock slab like a fish gasping for air.
“Don’t tell me we’re really only halfway?”
Aza gazed up to the peak above them. “If that.”
He shook his head at her, his mop of curls bouncing. “Couldn’t you just lie to me for once?”
She fixed him with a flat look.
“Well fine then.” He sniffed. “See if I find wool berries for you again.” He sat up and brushed his hands on his pants, but he paused, catching sight of the destruction around them. “Wow. I thought we’d be able to scavenge for more supplies but…”
“There’s nothing left,” Aza said.
“I hope most of the students were able to get out.”
Aza’s mouth pressed into a tight line. The fire had been too fast, too sudden, and the only exits had been purposely cut. She didn’t even want to know how many of the students mixed with the ashes on the wind, but she wouldn’t lie to herself—there were many.
Even so, there was no point in burdening Witt with the truth. She only hoped the fallen Wraith-Called would be able to cross the Shadow Plane safely. With a sigh, she rose to her feet. She didn’t have time to dwell on these ghosts.
“Come on, the easiest place to climb out of here will be where we arrived.”
This time, Aza made Witt go on ahead of her up the rocky face. If she fell, she didn’t want to take him down with her. She followed a few body lengths behind, her hands and toes seeking the same holds he’d found, her foot trembling under the strain.
She flinched as a grizzard cut through the air behind her, its rattling caw echoing off the cliff walls. “Follow.”
How long would they continue to parrot the words of a Somisidas that no longer stood? Were they feeding on the remains of the Wraith-Called, or was it her fresh body they were waiting for? She was high enough now that a fall would be deadly.
She thought back to the dark night they’d descended this very wall, confident and fearless of the height they could not see. Now, she climbed out, battered, afraid, and ashamed. She cried out as her ankle crumpled beneath her, wrenching her hand away from the wall.
The agitated grizzards fluttered behind her, parroting their cryptic messages. “Feel your way.”
Aza whipped her body back to the rockface, her free hand scrambling for a hold and her bad foot sliding down.
“Step forward.”
Sweat pouring and heart racing, she reached higher, her fingers wedging in a tiny unseen crack.
“Come now, or do not come at all.”
She pulled herself up, her toes finally finding a solid foothold. She leaned her forehead against the cold, hard mountain. Her eyes widened with a realization. If she died here, she wouldn’t get a chance to right her wrongs. She’d wander the Mortal Wood, waiting for her family to join her or wondering if the Dolobra had silenced them. She’d carry the shame for eternity.
The grizzards continued their lines. “The wraiths—”
“SHUT UP!” Tenacious adrenaline surged through Aza’s muscles, the pain fading away. “Somisidas is gone, and I’ve got to get up this sky-cracked mountain, so I can do something about it.”
With another squawk, the grizzards flapped away, and Aza moved up the cliff with strong, smooth movements.
“Uh… are you okay?” Witt called down.
“I’m fine,” Aza said through gritted teeth.
She lost track of time as she focused
on moving one hand after the other, thinking of nothing but her next hold and listening to her breath going in and out. The same concentration that got her into the Shadow Plane could get her up this mountain. Small clouds of her warmth billowed from her lips into the crisp air as dust and pebbles spilled from her boot soles to the ruins below.
“Here’s the top, Aza,” Witt shouted, relief dripping from each word.
With one last surge of strength, Aza pulled herself over the precipice. She rolled onto her back as Witt peeked over the edge. She followed his gaze down the steep wall of rock, skipping over the dark splotch of ash that used to be Somisidas, until her eyes landed where they’d started the day in the wooded valley.
“Near the end, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.” He laughed. “But I knew if I fell, I’d be taking you with me, and I didn’t want you to kill me again on the Shadow Plane.”
Aza smiled, the adrenaline fading from her limbs, and the pain rushing back all at once. It didn’t matter that her wounds from the Dolobra weren’t open and bleeding, her mind seemed to think they were. She squeezed the bridge of her nose. They’d gotten out of the valley. The first step was always the hardest, even when it wasn’t vertical. She looked up at the snow-dusted peak still so high above them, and then let her head droop between her knees.
Witt nudged her. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
“Does food solve all your problems, Witt?” Aza asked with a dry laugh.
He craned his neck at the peak before them. “No, but it couldn’t hurt after we just climbed half the mountain.”
“Better save it for the half of the mountain we have left.”
“It’s okay to celebrate halfway.”
Drawing the tough, herb-rubbed meat from her bag, Aza chewed thoughtfully. “Does anything ever get you down, Witt?”
“Sure, but I’ve always had you and Zephyr to pick me back up again.”
“You mean Zephyr.” Aza took a swig from the waterskin. “I’m not sure I’ve ever picked anyone up.”
“No, I mean you too.” He wrapped his arms around his lanky legs. “Sure, you didn’t talk much, and sometimes I’m sure you probably weren’t even listening.” His smile widened. “But sometimes, it’s enough just to be there.”
Aza crunched into a handful of tart wool berries and thought of what she’d be doing if she had come out here on her own. She’d probably still be wallowing on the valley floor. For all his fool-headed chatter and relentless optimism, it was his hope that was propping her up—keeping them moving.
“Thanks, Witt,” she said, her voice soft. “Thank you for being here. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
He waved her off. “Of course, you would have. But I like to think my charm does make the journey more pleasurable.”
Aza rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it.
✽✽✽
As dusk fell, what little scrap of victory Aza had achieved in climbing the cliff face had fallen away. The trail was nonexistent, their supplies were gone, and on the bare rocky mountainside, they didn’t even have enough firewood to make a flame.
Instead, they took shelter from the wind in the lee of a boulder, their bodies drooping from more than just exhaustion.
“How’s your foot?” Witt asked, his earlier cheer vanished. “Better or worse?”
Aza hid her numbed fingers in her armpits. “The same.”
“Do you think we’ll make the pass tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
“And from the top, we’ll be able to find a trail, right?”
A wry smile twisted Aza’s lips. Witt just couldn’t shake that unflappable optimism. “Perhaps. But it’s more important that we find water first.”
“And food,” Witt added sternly.
Aza sighed. “And that.”
For a moment the silence stretched between them, tired and empty.
“Do you think we’ll make it in time?” he whispered.
Not at this rate. Aza bit back the words. They were of no use. There were no towns between here and Carceroc. No way to go any faster. They would have to make do with the best pace they could muster. “I don’t know.”
But in her dreams, the wraiths screamed.
✽✽✽
They started again at first light, their spirits rising with the sun as the mountain’s crest loomed just above them. Witt practically bounded the last few steps to the saddle between the peaks, his arms lifted in a mock victory dance.
“It’s all downhill from—” He stopped short, his face falling.
Alarm rushing through her, Aza pushed past the pain of her throbbing ankle to join him at the top. On the blue-sky day, they could see for miles across the forests and fields of Okarria, but there was no mistaking the streak of smoke on the horizon.
Carceroc was burning.
By her brother’s hand? Or Conrad’s?
Aza started down the other side, sliding on the shale. “C’mon, we have to hurry.”
“Hey, wait up,” Witt called from behind her.
But Aza barely heard him as she hurtled down the slope. Her ankle hurt, but she could stand it. She had to use every bit of speed the slope had to offer, just as she did on the mountains back home. Her eyes glued to the ground, she hopped from one sturdy rock to the other and let herself slide on the shale. Faster and faster, she leapt down the mountain.
“Aza, you’re going too fast! You’re going to—”
Witt didn’t get to finish his sentence before Aza’s bad ankle gave out beneath her. In a whirl of stone and sky, she tumbled head over heels down the slope, the rocks tumbling after her. She raised her arms to protect her head as her body clattered against the mountain again and again. Finally, she crashed into the crevice of an outcropping, her hands and knees scraping against the gravel to bring her to a stop. But she only had a second to breathe, before a shower of rocks battered down onto her.
“Aza!” Witt yelled, scrambling to her side. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, Aza just lay there, hiding her scratched face in her bloodied arms. Get up, she told herself. You have to keep moving. You have to fix this. Head pounding and fuzzy with hunger, fatigue, and thirst, Aza assessed her injuries. The crimson red of blood bloomed around her hands and knees, but nothing seemed broken. She shook off the rubble and tried to pull herself out of the crevice. She moved her right hand, then her left, her right foot, and then her left… stuck.
“Odriel’s teeth.” She looked down to where a chest-sized boulder had trapped her foot in the crevice. “I’m stuck.” She reached down to try to pull against the rock, but it stuck fast. Breaths quickening, she heaved and strained against the rock, her panic rattling her bones. “Witt, can you help me?” Her voice pitched in a near scream even as she struggled to control it.
Witt jumped down next to her boot, his face creased with worry. He strained against the rock with her, but it didn’t so much as budge.
Witt met her gaze with wide eyes, his face white and bloodless. “I’m… I’m sorry, Aza.”
Her heart thumping frantically, Aza’s gaze raced to the black smudge in the distance where Keo and the others waited for her. Needed her. With a concentrated effort, she dragged her attention back to her wedged foot. How was she going to get out of this?
“Witt, do you see anything that might be close by. Villages? Campfires? Trails?”
He shook his head. “I… don’t see anything.”
Aza scraped her gaze across the landscape again. Witt was right. There was nothing.
Just the unforgiving mountain wilderness.
Her gaze trailed back to the smoke in the distance. It would take Witt days to travel to Carceroc and back, and their supplies had run dry.
Witt chewed on a shaking knuckle. “What should we do?”
Behind him, Silvix had reappeared, his face tight and drawn, but he said nothing.
“We need help,” Aza whispered. “I need Keo.”
“But—” Witt started.
&
nbsp; “I can reach him through the Shadow Plane.” The chill of shock soaked into her bones in a thousand icy needles. “But there’s a chance Mogens or Conrad will hear me instead.” She swallowed, locking eyes with him. “You can’t be here when they do.”
Witt shook his curls furiously. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Witt—”
“You’re wasting time you don’t have,” Silvix snapped from behind them.
Witt glanced toward Silvix and then turned back to Aza, his expression abnormally hard. “I’m not leaving.”
Confusion ricocheted around Aza’s already jagged thoughts. Could Witt see Silvix? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. “Fine.”
“With your leg trapped, you will not be able to physically cross over. You can open the door, but you will not be able to step over the threshold,” Silvix said. “Reach out with your mind, but do not linger. The Dolobra hunts the Plane now.”
Aza nodded and reached out for the door in her mind, pulling the shadows to her. She opened the door, the darkness of the Plane stretching before her, but when she tried to step through, a jolt of pain tore through her trapped leg. Still in the open doorway, she sucked in a hiss of pain. Please, Keo. With her desperation icing into resolve, her hands curled into fists, and she screamed into the Plane.
She screamed words; she screamed her fury and desperation. She screamed for Keo; she screamed for her parents. She screamed for anyone and anything. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and cracking. But no one answered her. Not even the Dolobra. Finally, exhausted, she let her mind slip back into the world of the living.
Witt sat patiently beside her, his body sagging with resignation, but a hopeful smile still edging his mouth. “Anything?”
She turned to the smokey horizon where the lingering haze seemed to grow darker by the hour and shook her head. Then she lifted her chin and released a sorrowful howl, like a Maldibor mourning their dead.
Beside her, Silvix crossed his arms, his face unreadable.
And all Aza could think was, I truly have gone mad.
Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2) Page 21