Page 143 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“Wren Warrender,” he finally said, “don’t you tell me that girl’s Skal turned purple.”
A dread I couldn’t explain crept in my chest.
“How did you know it was purple?”
“Keep that girl alive.” Galahad’s voice turned hard and brittle. “She is your new priority. Keep her alive, Wren Warrender, or die trying.”
I adjusted my grip on Orla and took my sprint back up. Galahad’s trail was easy to follow now that I knew how to feel for the Skal he’d left burning in the air for me to find. The rocky side of a mountain loomed ahead, and I forced even more magick into my legs.
When we finally reached the frozen shore of the lake, I laid Orla down on the rocks to take another sip of Skal. Gray, snow-laden crags rose overhead, and the lakeshore stretched into gloom in either direction.
I knelt next to Orla, checking that she was still breathing. Snow clung to her eyelashes, and the tips of her short hair had frozen, but tiny puffs of foggy breath escaped her mouth and nose. She was still alive.
I fashioned one of her broken Skal bottles into a makeshift knife, and cut the hem of her new cloak into strips to use as a bandage. She bled from her back as well as her chest, and I did my best to press the fabric into both wounds, securing it in place with the help of her leather armor.
“Sorry, Orla,” I grunted as I lifted her again. Frozen rocks cracked and slipped under my boots, and I twisted around, searching for Galahad’s next wisp.
Skal tugged me towards the cliff face where a wisp floated over a line of large boulders.
“Why?” I groaned, and maneuvered Orla up onto the rocks. She was all limb, and I did what I could to not aggravate the injuries I’d just tended.
The next wisp was a few feet below us, floating in the shelter of a crack in the cliff that had been invisible from the beach. It looked like a dead-end, but I had to trust the trail Galahad had left. I slid off the rock first, then lowered Orla after me.
“Galahad?” I leaned forward to slump Orla over my back, ducking extra low to crawl between the slabs of rock.
Wind whistled outside, but we were protected from the snow here. Silver glowed around a corner up ahead, and another wisp tugged at the Skal that linked me to Galahad.
“How far ahead did they get?” I hissed to Orla’s unconscious body and trudged forward on legs I refused to let fatigue.
The tunnel widened around the next corner, and the cave walls smoothed. More silver light beckoned me around another corner, and I gasped as we turned into a wide cave with an arched ceiling that stretched deeper into the mountain.
“It’s a pyroduct,” I breathed. “Orla, we’re in a lava tube. Are we near a volcano?”
The silver wisps stretched forward with the lava tube, and I chased after them. They tapered away into nothingness as I approached, and I counted the steps between them. Each wisp brought me closer to the others. I would make sure Orla found help.
However, the silver light of wisps grew dimmer and dimmer, until I caught up with the final orb. It winked away, and the tunnel turned dark.
“Galahad?” I called. My voice echoed through the cave, as if taunting me.
I wiggled an arm out from under Orla, and lit a silver flame in my palm. The cave continued onward for who knew how far, but the wisps had ended right here. I scanned the floors, the ceiling, the walls, until I noticed the low, hand-carved archway to my left.
A steep, stone stairway continued past the arch, but my flame only lit the first few steps because the stairs spiraled out of sight beyond a corner.
“We’re in the Second Sentinel, aren’t we?” I murmured to Orla. “We just have to go up, right? And you’ll be home.”
The stairway was narrow, and the steps were uneven, but I climbed their spiraling pathway as best I could with Orla slumped on my back, chasing after the shadows cast by my fire.
The air was thick and stale in my lungs, and I struggled to breathe, but I forged forward. I lost count of the steps, and even with my Skal-enhanced strength and endurance, I worried the stairs would never end.
It was impossible to tell how far we’d traveled when I finally leaned Orla against the curved wall of the stairwell to drink the last of her Skal. I held a hand up to her face, and tiny, warm breaths broke over my fingertips.
Still alive.
“That would be just like you,” I grunted as I continued up the stairs with replenished strength. “Save my life and turn your Skal purple, and then immediately die. I would never forgive you.”
A breath of fresh, frigid air wafted over my cheeks, and a bit of dying sunlight played with the silver shadows of my skalfire. For a moment, I thought we’d made it to wherever the stairs led, but the next bend in the stairs revealed a slot-like window, nearly two feet deep, carved into the wall. The setting sun turned the mist outside a dusky orange.
“It’s almost night.” Hopefully the window was a sign that we were at least getting close, and I hurried upwards with renewed energy. “I’ve been asleep all day back at home. I wonder if anyone’s found me.”
