Page 52 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“We are defenseless.” The floorboards of the hall creaked beneath my leather boots. “We don’t have Skal. I have some inside me, but it feels like poison. If Skal will help us keep Keldori and Skalterra safe, then us taking some will benefit everyone. Think of it like a tax.”
Tiernan glared at us as I led the way to the stairwell.
“What are you—” he growled, but I cut him off.
“We’ll be back,” I assured him. “You don’t need us.”
I knew his pride wouldn’t let him argue the contrary, and he was silent as I led Orla down the twisting steps to the first floor.
“Wren,” Orla hissed after me. “We can’t steal Skal! We’ll get caught!”
Back at home, I’d never do this. But I wasn’t at home, and I wasn’t really me, either. I wasn’t Wren, the waitlisted college hopeful. I was Just-Wren, the warrior weapon with great hair and little-to-no consequences as long as a rotsbane didn’t get involved.
The low-ceilinged lobby of the inn was dark despite the light that filtered in through the windows. A grizzled man read a dusty book in the light of an azure skalflame at the front desk. He glanced up as we passed, and Orla shot him a nervous smile.
“Wren,” she said again through gritted teeth.
I stepped out onto the street, letting the noise and smells wash over me. Something savory wafted on the wind, mingling with the scent of recent rain. Iron-wrought lamps topped with glowing orbs of Skal lined the riverwalk, and I followed them to an arching bridge of stone.
I paused at the peak of its arch so I could look down into the water. It reflected my blue-haired figure back up at me, and Orla’s harried reflection joined mine in the rippling water.
“Let’s go back to the inn,” she insisted. “Ferrin said I should get some sleep—”
“Do you want to sleep?” I asked her seriously, pushing blue hair back from my face. Her lips twisted, and her eyes darted to the bright storefronts on the other side of the river behind me.
“No, but—”
“You’re from the mountains, right? Your uncle showed me a map.”
“I grew up in the Second Sentinel.”
“How often do you get to leave the mountain?”
She looked back at our reflections in the water.
“This is the first time,” she admitted. “But I have a duty to Fana, and it doesn’t include stealing Skal.”
“It does if it means keeping her alive.”
I took Orla’s wrist and pulled her after me across the bridge.
The stone buildings rose up around us, boasting open storefronts of trinkets, clothing, and food. Spiraling sets of staircases led up to second and third story terraces that connected to each other via footbridges that arched overhead.
Elaborate networks of pipes and glass carried Skal between the shops and to the streetlights to cast warm yellow glows over the crowds of cloaks and leather.
“You know, if Galahad told methisis what Skalterra is like, I probably would’ve agreed to keep coming back sooner.” I craned my head to watch a footbridge as we passed underneath it. Puddle water splashed up my legs, drawing my gaze to my boots. “Did it rain today?”
“It was awful.” Orla nodded. “Rained all night and all morning. We were soaked when we finally arrived in the city.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, thinking about the nonexistent rain I’d heard on the rooftop throughout the morning.
But then, a sweet smell caught my attention, and I whipped my head up to look into the nearest storefront.
“Are those pies?” I faltered at the outskirts of the gathered crowd to stare at a baker preparing a doughy crust behind a counter. A jumble of pipes dipped in and out of the wall behind him.
Orla glanced backwards down the way we came. The dark windows of the inn stared back at us from across the river.
“Yes, but—”
