Vehel bit his lower lip. “I’d hate to try to get off this thing in the dark.”
Dela wondered exactly what they thought they were going to find when they reached the ridge. They may have reached their destination, but that didn’t mean that whatever lay next wasn’t going to be equally as grueling. She wasn’t imagining a city paved with gold lying beyond the ridge, though she also wasn’t sure what to expect.
She focused on the route ahead. “If we can’t retrace our steps, then we’ve got no choice but to go through it. How deep does it appear?”
Warsgra stepped forward and allowed his foot to sink into the crusty mud. It went up to his knee, but he was tall, so it would be more like her thighs. “Not deep,” he said, “but that might change.”
“Are you all right to go first?” she asked him. “If it gets too deep, the rest of us will know we won’t be able to continue.”
He nodded. “Aye. I can do that.”
His pony, Giant, dug his hooves into the rock and reared back, but Warsgra pulled on the rope harness. Giant drew back at first, but then eventually gave in, and followed Warsgra into the sludge. Orergon stepped in after, also guiding his pony in behind him.
“You go next,” Vehel told her. “It’s safer for you between us.”
She lifted her eyebrows at him. “I can take care of myself, Vehel.”
“I don’t care. I’m going at the end.”
There was grim determination in his light eyes, and she wasn’t going to argue further. Stepping forward, she grimaced as hot sludge sank up to her thighs. “You didn’t warn me that it was warm,” she called to the front of the group.
Warsgra looked over his shoulder at her. “I thought you’d have figured that out for yourself.”
He had a point. Smoke and steam rose in billows from pockets in the sludge, and it grew worse as they moved through it, as though they were disturbing the buildup.
“I’m so glad we washed our clothes,” she quipped, trying to lighten the dour situation. It was a feeble attempt, and no one laughed.
Her pony pulled back on his harness. “Come on, Ghost. You can do it.” The grey mud was up to his chest, and she could see every step was a struggle. She wished again that they’d left the ponies behind and carried their supplies themselves, but wishes were empty.
Ahead of her, Orergon was suddenly sucked downward. He disappeared into the mud and vanished from view. It happened so fast, the Moerian hadn’t even had time to let out a yell of shock.
“Orergon!” she cried.
Warsgra spun around. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He was right in front of me, and then he wasn’t.”
They looked around, frantic. A few feet away, a hand reached out from under the sludge, and then vanished again.
“Orergon!” she cried again, lunging after where she’d seen the hand appear.
Warsgra moved, too, getting there before her and plunging his arm and most of his chest down into the mud.
“Where is he?” Vehel shouted. “What’s happened?”
Warsgra continued to feel around in the mud. “There must be some kind of current. He’s gotten caught up in it.”
“No!” Tears filled her eyes as she stared around, desperate. He wouldn’t be able to spend long under there. There was no air, and it was hot. She imagined thick sludge filling Orergon’s ears, nose, and mouth, how his eyes would be squeezed shut against it. Was he fighting, struggling? Was he scared? Blind panic filled one side of her mind, while the other side tried to remain calm and think rationally to try to find him. They’d seen his hand over there, which meant the current he was caught in was pulling him east.
“This way,” she said. “He must be this way.”
She ploughed forward, leaning into the mud to use her hands to feel in every direction. She couldn’t lose Orergon, she simply couldn’t. She needed all three of them, and the thought of continuing with Orergon lost was more than she could bear. Warsgra was ahead of her, mimicking her movements.
“Orergon!” he bellowed, as though the Moerian hearing him would somehow help.
Dela glanced over her shoulder. To her shock, Vehel was just standing there, unmoving.
“Help us!” she cried.
The Elvish prince spoke through a tightened jaw. “I’m trying.”
Chapter 31
Vehel
Nimbus’s words rang through Vehel’s head.
You can help her if you just stop being so afraid …
If you learn to embrace it, you could be very powerful …
It’s part of who you are. You need to trust yourself …
He couldn’t allow Orergon to be lost in this forsaken place. Not only did the anguish on Dela’s face break his heart, he’d also grown fond of the Moerian. They would be a weakened group without Orergon, and they needed him. If there was ever a time to trust in his magic, it was now.
He reached deep inside himself, searching for the swirling ball of energy that lived in the very center of his chest. It still went against everything he’d spent his whole life trying to restrain, but now he needed to fight against the things he’d been taught. He didn’t need to repress his natural abilities any longer. The damage had been done—though he’d only ever used his magic trying to save lives—and now he needed to do everything in his ability to put things right.
The ball of energy expanded, spreading throughout his entire chest. He needed to channel it and push it out, to take the energy inside him and deliver it to the world instead. To make the world react to his force.
But he could feel himself failing.
He couldn’t do it. Every part of himself fought against it, his mind rebelling. But he had to be stronger than that. Orergon’s life depending on it, and he couldn’t let Dela down. Nimbus had told him to trust himself—that Dela had needed his strength—and right now she needed it more than ever.
Power flooded through his arm and out to the place where he’d seen Orergon’s hand. The thick sludge wobbled on top, and then parted, pushing to the sides to reveal a space between and the rocky face of the fire mountain beneath. Orergon wasn’t there, but Dela and Warsgra both saw what Vehel was doing. Warsgra grabbed Dela’s arm and pulled her out of the way, giving Vehel the space to do what he needed.
He refocused his attention, sweeping farther down the rocky face, clearing more of the sludge. Time was running out. How much longer could Orergon survive under there?
He swept his palm to one side, and the area he focused on cleared, revealing more black rock beneath. But there was still no Orergon. Vehel changed tactics, directing his energy in another route. The mud parted, clearing a space, and there, lying on the rock, was Orergon, face down and unmoving.
“Hold it back, Vehel!” Warsgra yelled, running into the cleared space. He reached Orergon and bent down, scooping the other man into his arms. Orergon was tall, but Warsgra was fearsomely strong, and he held Orergon against his chest as he turned.
“We need to get out of here,” Warsgra yelled. “Back onto solid ground. Vehel, can you clear the rest of the way?”
His strength was draining from him, but he nodded. He’d keep this going until they all reached safety. The ridge they were aiming for was in sight now. Drusga, The Valley of the Dragons, was right over that peak. They were almost there. They’d almost made it.
“Is he alive?” Dela cried.
“I don’t know, but we need to move. He’s struggling.”
She glanced over at Vehel, and Vehel realized Warsgra had been talking about him. Yes, he was starting to struggle to hold back the sludge. It was trickling in, like puncture holes in a dam.
“Go,” he tried to yell, but his voice came out hoarse. All of his energy was going into controlling the matter threatening to suck them under and drown them, and now he barely had the ability to speak.
“You need to come with us!” Dela reached for him.
But he shook his head. He only wanted them to get across, and he would figure out
his next move after.
The ponies snorted and kicked up their heels, not needing any encouragement to cross. Vehel released the reins of his ride, allowing the animal to follow the others across to solid ground.
“We’re here, Vehel,” Warsgra called back. “We made it.”
Warsgra laid Orergon back on the rock and started to wipe the mud away from his face, clearing his airways. The Moerian was motionless.
Vehel started to walk across the bedrock, through the cleared space, to join them.
With every step, he lost a little more control and the sludge started to creep back in. First it was at his feet, then creeping up to his ankles, then his shins.
Dela must have seen him from where she was trying to help Orergon. “Come on, Vehel. You can do it. Move quicker! Just run!”
If he ran, he’d lose all power he had over the matter. Would he reach the other side before the mud all crashed in on him? He didn’t know, but it was already up to his knees. Could he even run with his legs already thick with the sludge? He was losing control either way, and if the two sides joined fully again, he could easily be pulled under by whatever force had caught Orergon. The Moerian was a bigger man than he was, and would have been harder to pull under. If it caught Vehel, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
With no choice, he broke his concentration, feeling the magic drain from his soul, and burst into movement.
He threw himself forward, hitting the rock, his momentum propelling him so he landed with no choice but to go into a roll and bring himself back up on his feet. Right behind him, the sludge crashed back together with waves clashing. His breath burst from his lungs, and he sucked it back in again, gathering himself. Gradually, his pulse began to slow. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and process what had just happened, but Orergon needed his help.
Both Dela and Warsgra were leaning over the motionless Moerian. Had he been submerged too long? Were they too late?
“Move,” he rasped, barging the much larger Warsgra out of the way. He dropped to his knees beside Orergon. The black volcanic rock was hot beneath him, and the air was thick with sulfur. Close by, a crack in the rock released a billowing stream of grey smoke into the air. This fire mountain hadn’t blown for hundreds of years, and he doubted it would go now, but the way their luck was heading, he couldn’t help but glance up at the summit in worry. He didn’t know what he was going to do, only that this was what his instinct told him, and Nimbus had told him to believe in himself.
Most of his magic had faded, but he still sensed a spark inside him, right in the center of his chest.
He pulled Orergon’s leather vest apart, exposing the other man’s smooth, brown chest. He leaned in and placed both hands at the spot directly above Orergon’s heart. His chest was still, no sense of a heartbeat beneath.
“Please help him, Vehel,” Dela begged, tears streaming clear tracks down her dirty face. “Please.”
With both hands placed on Orergon’s chest, Vehel focused once more. He only had a tiny amount of strength remaining, but he’d give Orergon everything he had if it meant the Moerian would survive.
He dug deeper, coaxing that final nugget of magic from his soul. Just as before, it swelled and surged forward. This time, he fixed the energy on his fingers right above Orergon’s heart. Heat pulsed beneath his fingers, and a blue light glowed, similar to the light he’d created in the Southern Pass that had started all of this. He gritted his teeth, pushing it deeper, willing its energy into Orergon.
Something moved beneath his fingers. Thu-thump.
At the spark of life from Orergon, the final reserve of his energy exploded from Vehel. The power of it threw Vehel away from Orergon, so he landed on his back on the rock and the last residues of his power sapped from his body. He was vaguely aware of Dela calling his name, of the jagged black rock pressing into his back, of the smoky sky drifting across his vision …
And then he was gone.
Chapter 32
Dela
She couldn’t believe her eyes as Orergon sat up, coughing and spluttering, and Vehel fell back, his eyes shut. Had she gained one and lost the other? She hesitated, not knowing who to go to first.
“It’s okay,” Warsgra growled, clearly sensing her indecision. “Vehel has only passed out. He’ll come around again.”
Even so, though she longed to go to Orergon and check he was all right, she’d seen how much Vehel had sacrificed for Orergon.
No, what he sacrificed for all of them.
She took a couple of steps to bring her to the Elvish prince’s side and dropped to her knees.
Vehel let out a groan, and his eyelids flickered. She reached down and swept some of his white-blond hair from his face.
“By the Gods, Vehel, are you okay?”
He groaned again and tried to sit up. Dela moved behind him, slipping her arm around his back to help him sit.
“Orergon,” he croaked. “Is he okay?”
She looked over to where Warsgra was helping Orergon to his feet. Warsgra met her gaze and nodded to show the Moerian was well.
“Yes, he’s fine,” she said, beaming at him. “You did it, Vehel. You saved Orergon. You used your magic, and you saved him.”
Vehel nodded, still in a daze. “Yes ... Yes, I did.”
“Are you okay?” Dela asked, trying to support him. “Do you think you can stand? Walk, even?”
“I think so.”
She took his hand and helped Vehel to his feet. He felt wobbly at first, but as each minute passed, he grew stronger and more like his old self.
Orergon was also standing now. His long black hair was matted with the sludge he’d almost drowned in, and his clothes and skin were crusted in it. Orergon didn’t appear to notice, however. After almost dying, Dela assumed he had more important things on his mind.
Dela quickly went to Ghost and removed a couple of the water bladders from the bags slung across the pony’s rear end, and handed one to Vehel and the other to Orergon.
“Thanks.” He took a couple of swigs, but didn’t swallow, instead swilling the water around the inside of his mouth and then spitting. He must have swallowed some of the sludge, and from the eggy stench still rising from the volcanic mud, it must have tasted as bad as it smelled.
The Moerian looked over to Vehel.
“Thank you, Vehel.” Orergon ducked his head at the Elvish prince. “I owe you my life.”
Pink spots appeared in his pale cheeks at the praise, and Vehel bowed his head in return. “Of course. Dela needs all of us alive to make it the last part of the way.”
She glanced across the volcanic rock, up at the point where they were headed. “We’re almost at the ridge now. It isn’t far at all. The smoke is clearing, and you can see it. Look.” She pointed that way. The ridge fell away in the valley, which was hidden from view and would be until they reached the crest. The sun was soon to be setting and already cast an orange glow across the sky. Where it hit plumes of smoke, those, too, turned an orange red, creating what looked like a supernatural flame against the black volcanic rock.
Her heart pattered inside her chest. They were almost there. They’d nearly done it. She reached up and touched the ring at her throat. She had no idea what to expect when they got there.
Beside them, the ponies whinnied, anxious to move on. Like the rest of them, the animals were coated with mud up to their chests, and in the heat it was drying in a thick crust. Dela desperately wanted to be away from this forsaken place. She hoped what lay beyond would give them the answers they so desperately needed.
“Are we okay to keep going?” Warsgra asked, his brows pulling together.
She nodded. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice. We can’t stay here, and we can’t go back now.”
“Watch out for any more of those mud pools,” he warned as he got moving, and the others followed. “We don’t want to have to go through the same thing again.”
But they appeared to be out of the worst of it. The remaining pool
s they came across had dried out, so the crusts on the surfaces were hard enough to stand upon. Even so, they took it cautiously, testing every footfall before placing their weight. Warsgra led the way once more, leading his pony behind him. Dela came next, pulling Ghost, who was now half white and half black from the chest down due to the sludge.
Vehel and Orergon followed, side by side, both leading their ponies. They were lucky not to have lost Orergon’s mount in the sludge. Both men were unusually quiet, having been through a lot, and Dela hoped there would be no lasting consequences from what they’d experienced. She’d seen how much energy Vehel had given over to save Orergon, and she’d also seen how long Orergon hadn’t been breathing. She worried about them both. She needed them, and they needed each other. At some point along this journey, the four of them had become a unit.
Her anticipation increased with every step that took her closer to the ridge. Soon they’d look down onto Drusga—The Valley of the Dragons. Would they see dragons for real, roaming around down there, content to live in the shadow of the fire mountain? Would they recognize her and somehow welcome her, or would they see her and the others as the enemy, and the group would find themselves with a far more dangerous fight on their hands?
Warsgra reached the ridge first, mounting the crest to look down onto the valley.
Dela picked up her pace, her mouth drying, her heart beating so hard she thought her chest might explode. What was he seeing? He had his back to her, so she couldn’t read his face, but then he turned to her and locked his gaze on her, and she still couldn’t read what he was thinking.
“What?” she cried, breaking into a trot to reach him. “What is it?”
She reached the edge and staggered to a halt. Exposed on the ridge, a wind buffeted them from the direction of the sea, and she had to push her hair away to prevent it tangling around her face. The sun was only moments from setting, sending long shadows down over the valley. The valley was huge, spreading into the distance, and, peeping through the hills on the other side of the gorge, she spotted the blue waters of the Lonely Straight.
Through A Dragon's Eyes_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Page 21