Page 5 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
Inhaling deeply, I search to find some semblance of relief within myself. Instead, I catch his scent, a heady combination of worn leather and sea salt.
I resist the urge to nuzzle into him.
Why can I not remember anything, but am somehow aware of where I am? Frustration washes over me as I try, and fail, to dig through my mind for anything, anything at all. Sleep eventually takes me, and I welcome the reprieve from my predicament and utter confusion over everything.
I wake sometime just after dawn, disorientated and hurting. My whole body is sore from running, falling, and most of all, sleeping in a tree. Large blotchy patches of red are littered across my skin, but at least the itching has subsided. Turning my head to the stranger, I find him staring back at me.
“You’re staring,” I mimic his words from the night before. We square off for a long moment before I ask him, “Do you not need sleep?”
He gives me a steely glare, as if unhappy that I’m speaking to him at all. “No. Now is not the time for me to rest. We will be moving on now that you’re awake. Can you climb down?”
I peer south. Panic.
“I told you not to look down,” he says.
“Well, how am I supposed to know if I’m capable of climbing down without assessing what’s in front of me?” I spit back. Swallowing my fear as best I can, I take stock of the branches below me. I’m not wholly confident, but out of sheer stubbornness I say, “I can do it,” and start my descent.
My feet make slow work of it at first, ensuring my footing is secure before letting go of the branch above me.
My unwitting companion moves much quicker, multiple times ending up right on top of me, making noises of impatience. Withevery huff, I have to suppress a smile. When my feet finally hit the soft ground, he jumps down the last stretch and lands on nimble feet.
He shoots me a glare, and says, “If I had thought it was going to take you half the morning to get down a tree, I would have just jumped us down.”
I smile innocently at him. “Well, why didn’t you if that was an option?”
“Because when the magic is depleted, it takes time to replenish. The energy should be saved for emergencies,” he says condescendingly—as if explaining something simple to a toddler. It’s now that I notice that he has a refined accent: a pronounced drawl that I can’t quite place, though it sits precariously on the tip of my tongue.
“I know magic takes time to replenish.” As I say the words, I know that they’re true, a strange tingling creeping to my fingertips.
Do I have magic of my own?
“Well, you don’t have todrag me along. We will go our separate ways now.“ I then add unsurely, “Thanks. For helping me.” With my crossed arms and clipped tone, I don’t sound very thankful at all.
At least I said it. At least I tried.
“As lovely as it sounds to be free of you, no, we will not go our separate ways now. We will separate when I am sure that I will be free of you for good.”
I gape at him, unsure of what to say. Based on his seemingly unfounded hostile attitude toward me, paired with his timely rescue, I can’t help but wonder if we somehow know each other.
“Who are you?”
He gives me a smile that is anything but friendly. “Locane. And you?” he asks, visible irritation on his face.
“Me, what?”
“Do you have a name?” he seethes through clenched teeth.
I find myself inexplicably wanting to fan his foul mood. “Most people do,” I singsong.
A glimmer of pure rage flashes in his dark eyes before he takes a deep breath, attempting to tamp down his anger. “Well, are you going to tell me what it is?”
Meeting Locane’s intense stare with assessment, I try to hide the fact that I’m digging for the name I know has to be buried in there somewhere.
A soft click sounds in my mind, my name coming to me instinctively. “Ellya,” I say with surety. Somehow, I know that it’s true.
“Well, Ellya. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THREE
