Opening her eyes, Nessa took in the view.
A sea of green stretched far into the distance; The Burning Forest, with its plumes of smoke rising into the sky. The day was young and the sun hung just above the tree canopy, not yet driving away the chill of the night or chasing away the puddles. Nessa sighed, weariness creeping up on her. It was so beautiful there, so peaceful without the sound of cars and lorries, without the sight of ugly pylons and telegraph poles. It was a shame that such despicable people like Shadow and Margan inhabited such a place. Otherwise, Nessa thought, she could stay there quite happily for a little while longer. But as it was, they were there, and they were the ones in power. Nessa felt that left her with no choice, no option but to get back home, otherwise she risked falling back into their hands.
Shadow’s promise sounded in Nessa’s mind, finalising her decision.
You have your freedom for now...
“For now and forever, jackass,” Nessa muttered as she started after Hunter, who, not realising that she had stopped, had continued ahead.
Nessa quickly caught up to him, and together they slowly descended down the rocky outcrop. The ground was uneven, the slope fairly steep in places and littered with loose stones that would shift quite suddenly underfoot. Nessa feared, on several instances, that she would lose her footing and slip to her death, rolling in an undignified manner down the rocks until she broke her neck. Thankfully, though, that didn’t happen, and they reached the forest floor safely. Barren ground swiftly turned into soft pine-needle covered earth, and it evened out, becoming easier to traverse.
“Where are we?” Nessa asked, marvelling at the trees. They were at least a hundred feet tall, soaring up to the sky, determined to reach it, it seemed.
“We’re in the southern foothills of the mountains which The Hidden City lies under,” Hunter said. “The storm has cost us some time and we still have quite a trek ahead of us, but I imagine we’ll be there in a day or so.”
“A day or so?”
“Yep, then we’ll start hunting for Orm. See if he can answer any of your questions.”
“And see if he knows how to send me back home.”
Hunter stumbled a little, tripping over himself. Odd, considering he usually moved with cat-like surety. “You still want to find a way home?”
“Of course,” Nessa said, mildly confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well...um…” his eyes darted to her hand, to her messenger bag. “No particular reason.”
“Uh huh.”
“Well...” Hunter uncharacteristically floundered, struggling to find words. Nessa raised a brow as he continued. “It’s... um... Just that I thought you were kind of enjoying the mini adventure we’re having. You know, seeing some of the sights, sleeping under the stars.”
Nessa sighed. “I have enjoyed travelling with you, Hunter. But what happened last night made things very clear to me. I don’t belong here. This isn’t my world.”
“I think you belong here a lot more than you realise,” he mumbled under his breath.
Nessa grunted, feeling incredibly torn between following her head or her heart.
Hunter was taciturn for the next hour, brooding over something. Nessa let him have his silence, content to just listen to the multitude of bird song that filled the surrounding forest. Without the interference of humans, the woodland was as it should be, free and untamed, a sprawling city that played home to an uncountable number of animals, many of which were unafraid of their presence. Through the tree trunks, Nessa spied a small group of deer. They watched her with curious brown eyes, so close, yet showing no alarm.
Her mind a thousand miles away, she didn’t realise that Hunter had come to a sudden stop. She ploughed into his back, knocking him forward a step or two with an, “Oomph.”
The deer, startled, ran away, swiftly disappearing from sight.
“Let me see what he did to your arm,” Hunter demanded. “I haven’t had a good look at it yet.”
Taken by surprise, Nessa didn’t move. Hunter rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing her hand and shoving her sleeve up. The scar was shown in all its glory, shimmering in the sunlight with its subtle iridescence. Nessa cringed, trying to tug her arm free. Hunter wouldn’t let her, his hand tightening on hers. He stood there, staring, his eyes wide as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
That was all the confirmation Nessa needed. The mark wasn’t normal, even in that world. Unbidden, tears came to her eyes and she hastily blinked them away, not wanting to embarrass herself any more in front of Hunter. She managed to jerk her hand out of his and shove down her sleeve, hiding the mark. She wondered if it was permanent. Would it be there when she got back home, serving as a constant reminder? Or would it wash away like a bad stain when she went through another portal?
“I suppose you know what it is?” Nessa forced out.
Hunter seemed at a loss for words, and struggled to answer her. “I’ve only heard stories. I’ve never seen one up close. Not like this.”
Nessa supposed she could have asked what he had heard, but she didn’t. In all honesty, while she felt a small degree of curiosity, she didn’t want to know anything more than what she already did thanks to Shadow’s vague explanation.
Shadow.
Without wanting it to, Nessa’s mind turned back to him.
Hunter, frowning, abandoned the subject and turned around, once again leading the way to their final destination. Nessa trailed behind him silently, deep in thought.
Shadow, with those hypnotic blue eyes, eyes that were strangely revealing given his otherwise impassive demeanour. They had shown her something last night, something that made Nessa question a number of things.
In that moment of brief insanity, when she had called after him, telling him of her waking dreams, he had been shocked.
Shocked, but not surprised.
Nessa found that to be rather puzzling. It was as if he had expected it, as if he had known it would happen sooner or later.
∞∞∞
The sun climbed ever higher into the sky, and then midday was upon them. Hunter called for a break, citing hunger. Nessa dumped her backpack and sleeping bag on the ground with a sigh, rolling her shoulders. They weren’t particularly heavy, but after several hours of trudging through woodland, they began to feel like lead weights, making the straps dig in painfully. She gently lowered her messenger bag and let Aoife out. The little dragon blinked sleepily and arched her back, having a nice long stretch.
Hunter quickly had a small fire going, heating a pan of last night’s dinner. While she waited, Nessa paced, growing increasingly uncomfortable for some bizarre reason. Something had changed in her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was a niggle at the back of her mind, an itch beneath her skin, and it wouldn’t go away. Aoife was sniffing a moss covered tree trunk nearby, and Nessa eyed her with suspicion.
Nessa turned away and peered up through the tree canopy, spying the mountain range that was slowly getting closer and closer.
The first mountain loomed over them, the peak half hidden behind thin, vaporous clouds. The forest covered the base in a lush green carpet that gave way to jagged grey rock. The tip was swathed in crisp white snow. Nessa, having never seen a mountain other than in pictures, drank in the sight, marvelling at it.
Lunch was soon served, and when they had finished, they set off once again. This time, Aoife was reluctant to go back into the messenger bag, and there was nothing that would persuade the dragon hatchling to stay in it for long. The few times Nessa had managed to get her into the bag, she would only lie still for a few minutes before she’d start squirming, claws scratching at the leather, threatening to tear it. So, the little purple dragon walked beside them, and in front of them, and quite often behind them.
Nessa didn’t worry, not after a while. She had learnt that if she just relaxed her mind, then she could, somehow, sense where the dragon was, even when Aoife wandered off, going out of sight.
While Hunter had been rather reserved earlier, he was now the opposite, open and carefree, talking practically nonstop. He’d point out various bits of wildlife, telling her all about it. Like Macklock, a small shrub that had bundles of tiny flowers that would snap closed if touched. Or a climbing plant called Babblebush, which looked like a decorative version of ivy, but had the properties to make people, as Hunter put it, babble inanely. At first Nessa thought that he was joking, but it turned out that he was actually serious. She learnt that in most cases, people would touch it, unaware, and fall victim to a light bout of babbling. Hunter had then gone on to tell her, with a twinkle in his eye, that if a leaf was ingested, the babbling would be severe and last for hours.
The conversation between them was casual and easy, and Nessa found herself enjoying their march. The day sped past and before she knew it, the sun was sinking behind the trees, casting long shadows. They found a small clearing to set up camp for the night, just big enough for the two of them, an adventurous dragon hatchling, and a fire.
Nessa set her bags down against the base of a gnarled oak tree, claiming it as her spot for the night, then busied herself collecting logs for the fire, such as the routine they had naturally fallen into. Soon a fire was burning cheerfully with a decent pile of logs next to it.
While dinner cooked, Nessa settled by the tree, sitting up against it. She wished for a book to read, something to relax her mind. Reading had always had that effect on her. The ability to be sucked into a story was magical, and coincidently the only magic Nessa wanted in her life. She found herself longing for her notebook that was filled with her scribblings. It would have been nice to spend the evening sketching away, drawing the sights, jotting down some thoughts. She guessed that it was now in Margan’s possession, and that made her a little bit sad, and on further reflection, slightly embarrassed.
Nessa frowned, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of him flicking through it, seeing what she had drawn, what she had written in those pages. It was a diary of sorts, stuffed full with her inner thoughts and ideas, not just her sketches of the abandoned town, although they did dominate a large part of it. There were her secrets in that notebook, things she had shared with no one.
Like her failed attempts at writing poetry.
Having Margan, of all people, look through it, seeing such things, was a massive violation.
Nessa folded her arms, cheeks glowing, and tried to turn her mind away from such mortifying thoughts. Her eyes landed on Hunter and she watched him as he moved around the side of the clearing, kicking away twigs and branches.
“What are you doing?” Nessa asked, amused.
“I’m clearing a space.”
“I can see that. But whatever for?”
“For our training session,” Hunter said as if it should be obvious. “I’d hate to accidentally impale you on a branch or something.”
“Impale me...” Nessa’s eyebrows shot up in understanding. “You want us to spar.”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Nessa muttered. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not in the mood to be hit and thrown to the ground. Not today.”
“Nonsense,” Hunter grinned. “There’s no better way to end the day than with a wee bit of violence.”
“I’ve had my fair share of violence in the last twenty four hours,” Nessa argued. “I’d like to have a day or two without getting another bruise, or two, or ten.”
“Come on, people think bruises are sexy.”
Nessa frowned. “I’m pretty sure that’s scars.” Hunter looked a little too meditative for Nessa’s liking. “And no,” she added, “I don’t want any more scars.”
“If you did, it could easily be done.”
“I don’t.”
“Alright then.”
“I’m glad we have that sorted.”
“I still expect you to train, whether you want bruises or not.”
Nessa was feeling stubborn. “I don’t and I won’t,” she said, as if that was final.
Hunter’s eyes tightened. “Oh, yes you will.”
“Because it proved to be so helpful last night?”
Hunter glared. “Practice makes perfect.”
Nessa wasn’t swayed.
“Come on,” Hunter murmured. “Remember how proud you were when you managed to sneak in that kick. Imagine how good you’d feel if you actually took me down.”
Nessa did remember, and it had felt pretty damn good. Still did, in all honesty. “You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?”
Hunter winked. “I have a way with words.”
“And motivational speeches.” She joined him in the cleared circle, readying herself for whatever he had planned.
His arm whipped out, shoving her back with tremendous force.
Nessa lay on the ground, stunned and more than a bit pissed off. “I wasn’t prepared for that!”
Hunter stood over her, looking down with his hands on his hips. “Rule number one: Always be prepared for anything in a fight.”
“My fondness of you lessens by the hour.”
“You love me really.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Hunter just grinned and ordered her up.
∞∞∞
Dinner put an end to what Nessa likened as half-an-hour of torture, and before Hunter could demand they do anymore sparring, Nessa hastened over to her sleeping bag, unrolling it. She sat on it and pulled off her boots, getting ready for the night. As she did so, her hand brushed against a newly acquired bruise, making her hiss.
Aoife sauntered over, rubbing up against her, looking, for a lack of a better description, amused. Nessa rubbed way the sting, muttering under her breath. Aoife snorted, giving Nessa the distinct impression that she was being laughed at by a baby dragon. She scowled and slid into her sleeping bag, snuggling into the warmth and stared up at the stars overhead, just peeking through the tree’s branches and budding leaves.
Nessa felt uneasy at being so out in the open, vulnerable even. Hunter, it seemed, didn’t have her reservations, and appeared perfectly happy to spend the night under the open sky, so she kept her worries to herself. Aoife settled on Nessa’s stomach, curling up into a ball, a happy hum coming from deep within her chest.
At first Nessa didn’t move, but then, when sleep began tugging down her eyelids, her hand crept up and rested on the dragon.
Aoife’s hum grew a touch stronger.
Gloomy shadows reached long and far, swathing the rocky foothills in a cloak of dimness. Nessa and Hunter had left the sea of trees behind and now crossed through tundra that was intercepted by large slabs of grey granite. The earth rose in a steep incline and, slowly but surely, Nessa found herself hiking up the base of a mountain for the very first time. The experience wasn’t lost on her, even if her legs burned with each step. The mountain stood to her right with the sun trapped behind it, silhouetting it, bright rays beaming out from either side.
Hunter was slightly ahead of her, whistling a merry tune, and Aoife was somewhere in-between them, hidden by the heather. Occasionally, there was a glimpse of purple as the little dragon slipped from bush to shrub. Seeing Aoife play, being happy and free, brought a smile to Nessa’s face. The dragon picked that moment to shoot up a pile of rocks, eyes locked onto something below, the tip of her tail twitching. Nessa paused, watching her, wondering what the little dragon was up to.
Aoife pounced, leaping into a large bush, disappearing from sight. Branches quivered and shook, and with a chattering cry, a bird darted out, wings flapping furiously as it took to the air. Aoife’s head popped up out of the shrub, watching the bird fly away with large, disappointed eyes.
Hunter laughed, “And the dragon should keep to catching rabbits.”
Aoife’s lips twitched at Hunter’s words, a half-hearted growl.
“Out flown by a sand warbler too.” Hunter shook his head. “Oh, the shame.”
Aoife was eyeing Hunter’s ankles a little too intently
for Nessa’s comfort.
“I don’t think mocking a dragon is a particularly wise idea,” Nessa said.
Hunter grinned. “I don’t think it can understand the human language.”
“Really? Because it’s glaring at you with a murderous glint in its eyes.”
Hunter looked at the angry little creature, eyebrows raised. “Maybe you’re right.”
“And anyway,” Nessa continued, “the dragon now has a name.”
“Oh?”
“Aoife.”
“Ee-fa?”
“It was the name of the dragon in my waking dream,” Nessa explained. “I thought it just fit. You know?”
“Sure,” Hunter said. “It’s a good a name as any, I suppose. It means ‘beauty’ or ‘radiance’ in the old tongue. Did you know that?”
“I did not,” Nessa murmured. She looked at the little creature, at Aoife, and thought that the name was pretty damn apt. Even in the mountain’s shadow, her scales seemed to glow with an inner light, shimmering with every movement no matter how small.
The incline rapidly steepened and before Nessa knew it, turned into a rugged cliff face. They found a section where the slant was less severe and scaled up it, legs burning in protest and hands becoming scratched as they grabbed at rocks and bushes to prevent themselves from pitching backwards.
Hunter reached the summit first, bounding up the last few yards with ease. Nessa scowled at him, wondering where he got all his energy from. Lacking his speed, she joined him a few minutes later, finding him standing beneath a crippled tree. It leaned hazardly to the side, having been pushed over by the prevailing wind for years. From its gnarled branches hung some withered fruits, dried brown husks that Hunter was eagerly gathering, making the tree shudder.
Nessa moved up beside him, curious to see what he was picking so enthusiastically, and got sidetracked by the view that stretched out before her.
“Wow,” Nessa said, staring, her breath catching in her throat.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 23