Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I just shake my head.
Never.
We keep running until we hit the slope that leads up to the ridge of caves. I have to let go of her, needing both my hands to climb up the loose scree and sand, sliding backward a few times until I finally reach the hard ridge and get to my feet, reaching down and pulling Brynla up the rest of the way.
The fire tornadoes meet each other below us, combining into a supersize one, just as the sandstorm is almost upon them. One would hope the storm would put the fire out, but before it does it’s going to push a wall of flames out of the valley floor and right into us.
I pull Brynla along and into the nearest cave, the opening narrow, barely wide enough for us to fit through. I guide her in first, then come after and push her down to the ground, my body going over hers just as flames surge outside, shooting inside the cave above our heads.
Brynla screams and I keep her covered, the flames licking inside, though we’re both protected by our fire-resistant armor. I hold her tight; I don’t even think that I’m breathing, I’m just praying to the goddesses and waiting to survive.
But then the heat withdraws and in its place comes sand.
I get off Brynla and crawl forward, trying to seek more shelter. The cave opens up a little and hooks around the corner. I know there’s a chance that sycledrages could be nesting in here, but they would have attacked us by now.
“This way!” I yell at her, trying not to get a mouthful of sand. I wait until she crawls beside me, then pull her over to the side so we’re both sitting against the wall, out of the wind and sand that blow past, swirling and gathering in the unseen depths of the cave.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, keeping my voice loud enough to be heard against the infernal roar of the sandstorm.
She nods. “Yeah. Just a little sore but I’m okay. I think the eggs are crushed.”
“Better them than you,” I tell her. “I’ll see what I can salvage when this storm dies down.”
“How long do they usually last? I’ve never been through one.”
“Can take days,” I tell her.
The light in the cave is dim and I can barely make out the furrow between her brows.
But you’ve packed enough for that, haven’t you? I think. I keep that observation to myself, for now.
“I’m sure it won’t last long,” I tell her. “I just wish you had the same ability as your dog, so both of you could have been sent to safety.”
“I wouldn’t leave you,” she says.
I don’t say anything to that.
Instead I look around the corner, shielding my eyes from the incoming sand. There’s faint flickering at the mouth of the cave, and I get on my knees and crawl over to it, keeping my head down. There are a few fragments of burning branches tossed in by the storm, threatening to go out. I snatch one up and crawl back over to Brynla.
“What are you doing?” she asks, pulling her knees to her chest.
“Never know when a fire will come in handy,” I tell her. “One that you can control, of course.”
I reach into my pack and bring out a small piece of fireflame bark that comes from trees grown in Vesland. I stick the piece into a hole in the porous cave floor and light it with the fire, then toss the branch to the side, where it’s immediately blown away and put out by the wind. But the fireflame stays lit, a steady glow that gives off a lot of heat considering how small the flames are.
Satisfied that it won’t go out—that small piece of bark should stay lit for days—I look back at Brynla.
But her face is contorted in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving closer to her, placing my hand on her knee.
She twitches her knee out of my grasp and I notice the way she’s clutching her stomach.
“Is it your pains?” I ask. “Did you bring any of the poppy resin?” I grab my pack and start rummaging through it. I know I should have brought some with me.
She lets out a gasp and nods. “I did,” she says, her words coming out staccato. “But it’s not helping. If I take too much, I’ll be unconscious.”
I put the bag down, wanting to help, needing to help.
“When did it start? Just now?”
Her eyes are pinched closed as she shakes her head. “No. On the ship.”
My chest stings, hurt and a little angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have made you come.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” she admits, fixing me with a pained yet hardened stare. “I didn’t want you to worry and I didn’t want to be made to stay behind. Even though you can’t figure out why you need me.”