Page 8 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
The hit takes him by surprise.
In that moment of vulnerability, I turn, getting out from under him, and pin him to the ground. I punch again. And again. And again.
“Fuck!” Locane grunts.
The next thing I know, there’s no one beneath me at all, and my fists connect with the ground.
Letting out a roar, I punch into the soft grass again, splitting my knuckles and staining them green. Breathing hard and sweat dripping down my temples, I bare my teeth and turn towards the noise behind me.
Locane is there, hands raised in a sign of surrender, blood pouring from his clearly broken nose. “Drop the attack. I’m not here to hurt you.”
My frantic eyes assess him. He’s still in a loose stance of defense, waiting for me to strike again. I keep my eyes on him, unblinking, as my heart rate slows, breaths beginning to even, and my reality slowly becomes clearer.
“What happened?” I ask shakily.
“We were walking, and then you were on the ground seizing with blood pouring from your nose. Does that happen often?”
My hand swipes my wet upper lip; I pull my fingers away to find red. “I… I don’t know,” I answer, a wave of uncertainty and the fear that accompanies it crashing into me.
“Well, did you have any thoughts during your episode? Do you remember?” he asks with searching eyes. His brow is furrowed in a way that almost resembles concern.
Or is that excitement?
Locane schools his face and the unreadable emotion is gone.
“No,” I answer hastily. Shit, that’s a lie. “Well, yes. Nothing of importance. Just the story about the cause of the Original War; and the creation of the two Continents. Nothing about who I am or where I came from.”
Leaving out the fact that the story was being told by someone who was not me, only I Saw it through the stranger’s eyes, seems prudent at the moment.
Locane gives me a puzzling look. “Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“A lot about you. A beautiful, young woman on the run in the Emerald Mountains with no memories of her life, other than supposedly escaping from a dungeon. No clothes or shoes. Good fighting abilities. Passing out and having visions about the banishment of the gods. It all sounds interesting. And steadily morealarming. Perhaps you are far more of a liability than I initially thought?”
“Perhaps I am,” I reply cooly.
He just called me beautiful, I realize. I try to think of my own features, a detail that hadn’t occurred to me until this moment. I close my eyes and see an image, as if in a smooth, clear mirror; long, chestnut hair, even brows over bright emerald, green eyes. A full heart shaped mouth.
A blush creeps up my cheeks, but I reinforce my stoic mask and say, “If I am such a liability, perhaps we should leave each other now.”
Locane studies me. “No. My curiosity is thoroughly piqued. The more you speak, the more I’d like to know where this ends. And where it began. As I’ve already said, it’s all quiteinteresting.”
“I am not some kind of entertainment to feed your curiosity. Where are you even going?” I ask.
“Back to my home.”
“And what do you plan to do with me, since you insist on us continuing to travel together? Take me back to your home with you—and what?”
“I already told you, I planned to, at the very least, help you get proper travel attire. What is your destination?” Locane prods.
“I don’t know. I was just trying to get as far as I could from where I came from,” I admit, embarrassment weighing down my response.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you have no real plan.” His words drip with condescension.
“Well, I’ve been spending an awful lot of mental energy trying to figure out who I am and why I may have been imprisoned,” I give him as a weak excuse.
Gods. He’s right. I have no plans, and that is foolish. Why have I not given this more thought?
