Page 52 of Magick and Lead
Charlie squeezed my hand. “Thank you.” Our simnal connection lingered, and I felt his pure gratitude. And his feelings for me. The way they swelled with each beat of his heart, no less consistent or powerful than the waves crashing against the shore.
For a second, as we both stood there catching our breath, it seemed we were the only two people in existence. But slowly, the rest of the world began to creep back in. Winging gulls. Strolling beachgoers. The shrieks of laughing children.
I found myself scanning the beach for the man in the black suit and the wide-brimmed hat, a vigilant Skrathan once more.
“So… what’s next?” I asked.
In a blink, vulnerability in Charlie’s eyes whiffed out, too, replaced with his usual steel. For a second, he’d been a poet. Now, he was an ace again.
“Now, we hide out,” he said. “And get ready for tonight.”
24
ROHREE
It had been like waking from a nightmare—being broken out of the box, taking Clua’s hand, and running free—but now, it had shifted into a stranger sort of dream. The sort where you’re running endlessly, but never fast enough. The sort where you’re surrounded by a never-ending wood full of grasping branches. The sort where something evil is chasing you. You can’t see it, but you can feel it, and you know it’s there. You rush ahead in a mind-weary haze on legs so dull and tired they’re barely capable of hurting anymore. And you don’t know whether you want to scream or cry or just fall down on your face and sleep for a hundred years. But you do know if you stop running, you’re dead.
Rohree was just grateful she wasn’t running alone.
She wasn’t sure how long they fled like that, plunging through woods, across fields, over roads, and through streams. But after a while, the sense of impending dread that told her the witch was near began to fade.
It was hard to talk and run at once. But with what little breath she could spare, Clua had caught Rohree up on all that had happened while she’d been locked away. The release of the golenae. The fall of Issastar and Charcain. The defeat of theSkrathan at the Hatchery. And of course, the death of the queen at the hands of the man they’d all become fond of, Kit, who, it turned out, was really the famous Admite ace, the Silver Wraith.
She’d already pieced together some of the events through conversations between her captors she’d overheard while locked in the box. But hearing the tale now, in its entirety, it was almost too much for Rohree to take in. Several times she found her eyes stinging with tears, or her teeth clenched with rage.
“It’s all my fault,” she said when the tale had been told. The dwarf stopped running, grabbed her arm, and turned her so they were facing each other.
“What?” she demanded.
“If I hadn’t gotten caught… if I’d just made it back, I could have warned everyone about the golenae in the crates. Perhaps the queen could have done something. None of this would have happened.”
Clua reached for her with such a fierce expression on her face, Rohree thought she was going to throw her to the ground. Instead, she pulled the sprite into an embrace.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said.
Those words washed over Rohree like warm sunlight. She felt her body relax, her throat unclench. She surrendered the embrace, letting herself be hugged like a child.
“If it hadn’t been for damned Ollie…” she muttered.
Clua pulled back, looking at her. “What?”
“Ollie,” Rohree said. “It was he who caught me and turned me over to the prelate and his goons.”
Clua’s eyes went wide. “Ollie was… working with them?”
Rohree nodded gravely. Then, a realization struck her. “Is he with Essa now? She may be in danger.”
Clua shook her head. “No. When I left to search for you, he hadn’t been seen since the fall of Charcain. Still… we’d better get back and warn Essa.”
And they hurried on with renewed determination.
Had they followed the roads, the going would have been much easier. But, as Clua told it, since the fall of Issastar, the noble knights and the Gray Brothers’ minions had set up checkpoints along most of the roads, and it was quite possible the witch could have gotten word to them to be on the lookout for a pair of half-sized outlaws. So, they stuck to the woods. Occasionally, a meadow would open up before them, or an animal path or an ancient Elven road would align with their trajectory, and the going would be easier for a while. But sooner or later, the trail would always devolve back into scrub once again, and the two would find themselves picking their way through the underbrush like a pair of wild animals. But it was far better to struggle through the shadows than to run in the open and risk being seen.
Hours ground past like flour between a pair of millstones, and the day began to take on the purple hues of dusk. They’d eaten only a few mouthfuls of the bread Clua had brought with her, and Rohree’s stomach had begun to ache almost as much as her legs. But just when they were about to drop from exhaustion and hunger, they burst out of the woods and found themselves at the edge of a small village.
“Oh Gods,” Rohree panted, falling to her knees with relief. “Look, Clua!”
The dwarf was so exhausted, she could only nod.
