Page 42 of A War of Embers

Glancing off towards where the front of the group is now wading through the fog a good distance away, I crouch down until I’m sitting on the branch and wait for them to disappear a little bit further out. However, now I’m stuck here listening to the conversation continue between Meredith and Deena.

“Here,” Meredith says, tossing Deena a scarf they both wrap around their necks. “Don’t want to get eaten.”

I almost snort at the idea. Are scarves supposed to symbolize those from the Blood City to warn away the creatures lurking around? Shaking my head, I turn to quietly listen as much as I can for the pitter patter of creatures coming to investigate the disturbance in their environment but I hear nothing.

Perhaps this is the land of ghosts after all.

After several long moments of whispers, I stand back up on the branch and begin to leap from one tree to the next on the outskirts of the forest. I want to get far enough away so I won’t be spotted by those guarding the perimeter of the caravan but also close enough I can still follow the glow of the torches.

Once I’m at a safe distance, I climb down the tree as quietly as I can. As soon as my feet touch the soil, I straighten to my full height and glance around. The group staying on the edge of the tree line is deep into unpacking their load. Only three guards are surrounding their encampment, standing fifty yards from their group.

Stepping outside of the tree line, I feel the night wrap around me like a cloak. An odd heavy feeling as if I’m wearing the darkness consumes me. Instead of being afraid or wary of the feeling, it brings me a sense of peace. Almost like it knows me and is welcoming me home.

Perhaps people feel this way when they cross into the Wraithlands because it’s so close to the Cliff of Embers. Their soul recognizes being near its final resting place.

Moving until I’m out in the open, I expect someone to see me even from this distance. I’ve created a triangle where I move with both groups in my sight so neither one can sneak up on me. Still, I didn't realize the Wraithlands was this vast, open area where anyone can see for miles. At least I can count on the dark for now to cover my tracks.

Pulling out the scarf from my jacket, I tuck it around my neck like I saw Meredith do. Just in case I run across any creatures, I can simply say I’m on perimeter duty while I continue to stalk Lady Cirilla’s whereabouts. The flicker of the northern group’s torches suddenly goes out and I still, waiting to see if they’ll relight them or if screaming occurs.

Will something attack them out here where Zeke and Rowan are well known? Or are there no gods in this land to answer to?

Their silence stills the ground. Even the fog seems to stop rolling.

Deciding it’s better to get a smidge closer, I walk with bated breath to see if they’ll appear. Even in the darkness, I maintain my distance, circling north until I can be parallel to their position to see what might have caused the torches to go out.

It doesn’t take long to find them. Once I’m parallel with where they disappeared, I can easily see a steep hill beneath me. The ground no longer has fog, almost like it only exists in the empty land. A red light emits from several pits, not fire but something else. Homes appear to be dotted throughout the landscape. Far enough apart to ensure privacy, yet close enough others can clearly see a boundary line to not cross.

The group is off to the side of one of the houses, chatting with someone I haven’t seen before. The man is taller than Zeke, but just as skinny. He motions towards the makeshift yard where several people are beginning to set up the tents.

I lay down on the ground, still shrouded in the darkness of the hill, and watch as everything unfolds.

Lady Cirilla’s tent is one of the first to go up. It seems to expand as large as one of the houses. Several guards curse as they hammer the poles into the ground to keep it upright. All the while Lady Cirilla eyes Zeke and his surroundings. Maybe she believes Rowan is close by and is yearning for a glimpse.

Something spicy laces the air, warming my body to the point I wonder how I wasn’t cold beforehand. The hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand on end; but as I look around, there’s no one close by.

The atmosphere feels alive, like the heat of meeting flesh is just barely out of reach. Frowning, I glance around to see if there’s any disturbance in the air.

“Rowan?” I hiss in a whisper, feeling the heat prickle against my skin again. My clothes feel too tight, sweat slicking down my back as my entire body begins to burn.

When he doesn’t reply, I glare off into the distance. Surely he’s playing some sort of game right now with me, knowing I would come along. Yet no one responds.

Taking off the scarf from around my neck, I blot the sweat collecting on my forehead and narrow my eyes at the group from the Blood City.

Many of them have the scarves twined around the necks, pulled up to their ears to cover their nose and mouth. Absolutely not feeling the sensation of heat crawling all over them. Or maybe they’re using the scarves regardless of the sudden onset of rising temperature.

My mind begins to muddle against the rising scorch of the realms floor. Standing up, I walk back towards the top of the hill where the air becomes instantly cooler.

Shit.

The Wraithlands must have an internal heating source, probably from those magical pyres making the ground glow a preternatural red everyone else is gathered around.

I can’t risk taking off my clothes to cool down. My veins may give away my location and that’s not a confrontation I want to have with Rowan.

Trying to kill Lady Cirilla to prove a point and end up in a yelling match for all to hear? Fine. Completely acceptable. Showing off my veins simply because I’m drowning in sweat? I have a feeling Rowan wouldn’t kill me over that, but it wouldn’t necessarily end well for me either.

I don’t understand why my veins are common knowledge in Tellus but need to be hidden in Aïdes. A question for Rowan he’ll no doubt deflect and refuse to answer.

I wipe away more sweat with the scarf, even though the coolness of the air is slowly seeping into me, it’s not helping fast enough.

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