Page 15 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
“You will get some answers when we make it to my home,” he spits back at me.
“Some answers? I think I deserve all answers.”
Locane grabs my waist and rolls me over. I screech, but he is up and reaching a hand to help me to my feet faster than I can keep track.
“I’m sure you think you deserve a lot of things, Ellya,” he tells me, and I angrily slap his hand away. “Let’s get moving again. The quicker we get there, the quicker you will get your answers.”
Locane gives me a smile. One that looks genuine; almost like he’s excited.
The rest of the day is uneventful, and we are mostly quiet with small talk here and there. With all the questions that I have, I can’t find it in myself right now to ask them. We move quickly, both of us riding a new wave of vigor in our shared anxiousness to get to our destination. Locane says he will give me some answers when we get to his house, but I don’t fully believe him. Afterall, I don’t believe he’s been honest with me at all from the start.
But with nothing else to go on, I can’t help but hope that he keeps his word.
We stop for the evening near a creek, flowing along with multiple tiny cascades, creating a serene white noise to calm my excited nerves. Locane told me an hour ago that we are nearing the base of the mountain, and his house is around a day’s worth of easy travel once you reach the base.
“Do you live near anyone else?” I ask him as we are settling in for the night.
“No, there is no one around me for many miles.”
I hadn’t thought much about encountering anyone else and what that would mean. If I’m a known wanted person, would anyone recognize me and turn me in? My insides turn leaden at the thought. I’m suddenly unsure if I should keep going with Locane or turn around and run straight back into the densest parts of the mountain; to live as a feral forest child as he so kindly suggested.
It’s sounding quite attractive at the moment.
Locane must sense my unease at the idea of running into potential neighbors. He tells me gently, “You have nothing to worry about. They won’t find you.”
His calming words only mildly placate my racing heart and thoughts, but I swallow and nod.
“We will be stopping in a village on the way,” Locane tells me tensely. His tone changed so quickly it takes me aback. “I need to pick up a few items while you wait on the outskirts. I have a cloak you should probably cover yourself with. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour or two.”
My fearful anxiety returns as quickly as it began to ease.
“You think it wise to leave me near a village to do some shopping?” I ask him, letting my voice show just how little I approve of this plan. Locane says nothing, as if I didn’t say anything at all. I scoff. “You are infuriating, you know.”
“The sentiment is mutual,” Locane tells me with disdain.
And then we are silent for the rest of the night.
Sitting cross legged in the middle of the woods, my eyes close and hands dig into the dirt and grass around me. A light drizzle falls, making my clothes stick to my skin uncomfortably, hard to ignore.
Not ideal for when you need to empty your mind.
The discomfort makes my focus slip. I breathe deep, desperate to control the rhythm of my heart. It threatens to hammer in my chestas I shakily inhale through my nose, exhale through my parted lips. And repeat.
Nana notices as my control steadily slips and tells me calmly, “Focus.”
I resist the urge to scowl at her and attempt to utilize her advice.
Focusing on Nana and the calming presence surrounding me, I try to control the onslaught of what’s coming on. I try to keep a piece of myself tethered into my here and now instead of falling fully into the vision—fall into it in a way where I can’t pull myself out no matter how I try. When this happens, it could take a few minutes, or a few hours, for the visions to release me.
I’m sixteen now.
Nana has been working with me diligently since I was a small child, trying to master the strong gift of Sight that I inherited from her. The power manifested in me at a far younger age than anyone else throughout recorded history. Despite years of training, I’ve yet to fully master the gift, also stronger than any recorded Seer.
I’ve always loved everything that makes me like Nana, but I quickly discovered my dislike for this gift. It’s more like a curse; the visions come on at the worst of times and take varying tolls. Some occasions, I barely get a nosebleed. But others, I have seizures, coming to with Nana holding me on my side with a wooden spoon between my teeth as the spasms die down. Those instances it takes me days in bed to recover.
One of the worst parts is trying to decipher what I’m Seeing. It could be from the past, the present, or it could be yet to come. I rarely know who, when, or where I am. I often give myself a headache trying to make heads or tails of what I have Seen.
“You can control it, darling girl. You can. Clear your mind. Know that I am with you.”As she always has been.
