Page 36 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Sixteen

THE STORM HADraged through the mountain range for most of the day, but the wind had finally slowed to a steady howl around dusk. Aiden was confident they wouldn’t get far through the muddy terrain.

“It’s too dangerous, Valkanon,” Aiden said. “We won’t make it through.”

Valkanon stopped suddenly, looking up at the skies. “What do you suggest, then?” he asked him. “If we don’t make it up the mountain, we’ll be sleeping down here all night, and I have the keen sense we won’t make it up much farther once the height of the snow reaches two feet.”

“Let us hope the storm moves east by midnight,” Aiden said.

Aiden ran his hand through his black hair and turned to Valkanon. It was foolish not to bring along their brigade, but he couldn’t risk their plan getting back to Elijah—he would have never let him go. Aiden already felt guilty for bringing Valkanon.

Aiden glanced around the ground at the foot of Whitestone Mountain.

“Alright. We’ll camp here, but we need to set up the tents now while the wind is not as fierce,” Aiden suggested. “That mud will collapse if we attempt to climb right now, so it’s best to wait and rest.”

Climbing up a mountain to enter Myloria in the dead of winter—what was I thinking? Aiden thought.

Aiden had to make Kieran listen. What he had to negotiate was far greater than Janelle’s life. He had to be certain the sorcerer would take the bait. If not, he would have to kill him, and war would be inevitable.

After the elves had set up their tents and tied off the horses to the trees, they settled in, creating a fire to keep warm. They had packed enough blankets and food for the journey, but they still didn’t know what was ahead.

Aiden pulled out several wool blankets while Valkanon gathered more wood for the fire.

Once they were warm enough, Valkanon closed his eyes, and Aiden took the first watch. He turned and placed his hand on the sword his father had given him before he passed away, running his finger over the black stone on the hilt. Aiden closed his eyes and reminded himself why he was doing it all. His sister would never return to Kieran, and he would do whatever it took to make sure of it.

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WHEN DAWN BROKEover the horizon, Aiden was the first to leave the tent, searching the area for anything out of the ordinary.

Aiden said a silent thanks to the Gods that the ground was hard again. It would make it easier for the horses to move on. He stretched out his back and looked to the skies. The clouds forming above were a light shade of gray—they had to move before the snow fell again.

He stepped back inside the tent. “Valkanon,” Aiden called, tapping his friend on the shoulder to wake him. “We need to start moving.”

Valkanon’s eyes opened and darted around wildly in a panic. He grabbed his sword, swinging it up, but Aiden caught it by the blade, the sharp iron digging into his skin. Blood dripped down Aiden’s arm and onto the ground.

He winced but kept his body still as Valkanon slowly realized what was happening around him. The older elf hadn’t slept well since the war with the Fae two years ago. He was plagued with nightmares and vivid flashbacks. They had lost many friends that day and he had been on edge ever since. Aiden had tried to calm his mate and heal the fear that no warrior should face. Still, Valkanon was older, weakened spiritually, and too stubborn to stop fighting for Zemira.

“Easy, friend. It’s only me,” Aiden said soothingly, then placed his hand on Valkanon’s shoulder. “Time to pack up and go. We need to get to the other side of the mountain. Once there, the town of Newick is not far—perhaps a day.”

Valkanon dropped his sword and looked around, rubbing his eyes. “The air feels thick,” he observed.

Aiden nodded because he felt it too.

They quickly packed the horses and began to move toward the mountain. The blustering wind howled loudly in his ears, the moans blending into something else. Something alive. There was an eerie sense of an entity within the woods that previous night; he felt it as if it were next to him. The presence kept him awake for hours before he succumbed to sleep. He had noticed the air restricting his breaths when his eyes opened to the sunrise. For a small moment, it felt as if his magic was being snuffed out, trying to rip itself from his body.

A tiny snowflake hit Aiden’s pointed nose as they crested along the narrow, treacherous path. He pulled his hood over his head to keep his ears warm. The trail was wide enough for their horses, but they knew they were entering dangerous territory.

His horse, Nalla, shook her head and took a step back.

“Nalla, hang in there, girl.” He threw his voice so Valkanon could hear. “We need to get around the bend where the mountain has blocked most of the snow blowing in.”

They trotted forward, resisting each gust of cold wind blowing by, sending an icy chill against Aiden’s cheeks.

As the sun rose through the breaks of the clouds, the trees created dark shadows along the path. Aiden’s eyes narrowed as a thin shadow moved swiftly, growing against the cliffside next to them.

The shadow slinked past him again, that time from behind. Aiden’s eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness around them. He thought it was his imagination until the shadow shifted against the sunlight, opposite of the trees’ shadows.

“That is no shadow of the trees,” he whispered. An icy prick from fear stung the back of his neck. The stories Janelle had shared about the Shadow Creature were etched in his mind. But those were nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes.

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