Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
I don’t see another option though. This is the last thing I wanted to do.
There’s also no telling how long this storm will last or what level of damage it will cause before it passes. If I wait until then to attempt to make contact, I do not know how long I will have been missing, or what consequences might be levied against me.
My jaw aches with how hard I grimace at that thought.
I center my focus on the crystal in my hand and mutter the call. Resentment grasps my throat.
For a moment, I’m certain it will not work—that somehow even these crystals, hidden safe in my pack, were also drained in my attempt to widen the portal.
But heat flares in my hand, and there is a subtle vibration, and the spell takes, connecting across the lands to its match. It’s fortunate that a connected crystal glows, otherwise I might not be visible to Jorge, the commander who swims into view on one of the crystal’s facets. He’s a human commander in the army and someone I greatly respect.
“Jorge,” I say as Jorge’s image shakes in the crystal. Somehow as concern mars his face, the rain comes down even harder, which I did not think was possible. The sound of it is contained in the clearing, so it seems even louder than it might if I was out in the brunt of the storm. “Can you hear me?”
His image wavers again, as if the distance between the crystals is too great to overcome. I grip it as tightly as I can without dropping it. Jorge’s voice crackles, reaching me in fragments I can’t quite make out.
Fucking hell.
“Can you hear me?” I ask again. “Jorge? Am I coming through?”
“—you returned?” he questions. “Ryker. I see you. Where are you? Have you made it back?”
“No.” A peal of thunder crashes overhead as if the center of the storm is following me. “I sent the florals through, but when I went—” A crack of thunder interrupts me. The lightning is so bright and close that it illuminates the dark clearing for a few seconds at a time. There is so much of it that it cannot be caused by natural means unless the storm is swirling in a tight circle directly above where I stand. “When I tried to enlarge the portal, it…fought back.”
“You’ve encountered hostile troops?” His voice is muddled but I shake my head in case mine is on his end as well.
“No,” I state perhaps a little too loud. I wait through another burst of thunder. “The portal slammed shut and wouldn’t open again—” A gout of water comes through the branches directly onto my shoulder and my lips form a tight line as I breathe once then twice through gritted teeth. “This storm came. I can’t summon the portal. My crystals are drained.”
Jorge nods. I shield the crystal with my hand so I can keep him in view. The droplets are drawn to the light like a magnet, and his image is magnified in grotesque ways when the droplets slide down the facet.
“Find the—”
This time, it’s Jorge who is foiled by the thunder. His image turns cloudy, almost fading out, and I press myself closer to the tree, hoping to maintain our connection for a few more minutes.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“Find the witch,” he says, his expression calm, not betraying a hint of uncertainty about this order. “The witch. She is the only being there who has the means to help you and get you back if the portal isn’t opening.”
Something inside me shifts at the very thought of her. This woman whose reputation is vast and yet no one knows of her personally. Like a myth.
“She is the only one there,” Jorge replies. “Find her. She can help you.”
“Do you have any information on where she lives?”
Jorge opens his mouth, but before his words reach me, his image breaks apart in the crystal’s facet and dissolves into shadows.
“Jorge,” I call again with dull irritation as I heave in a breath that raises my shoulders and then I crack my neck.
He doesn’t answer. The remaining power in the crystal flickers out, and the glowing light disappears just as Jorge’s image did.
My jaw clenches as rain drips from my hair down my face and the sky lights up with more lightning strikes.
I lean my forehead against the trunk of the tree and bite back more frustrated curses. Jorge may not have known where the witch is rumored to live, but he might have had some information, which would have made my next task easier.
I give myself a few seconds, then pull myself up. I didn’t become a soldier because such tasks are easy. I became a soldier because my greatest talents are fighting and using brute strength to force myself along any given path.