A Touch Of Darkness

16 || Broken Promise

I'm not moving fast enough.

The knowledge squirms in the erratic race of my heart, the pound of my feet on rock and bracken, the stinging smoulder of flame slithering under my gloves. Breath spins easily out of my path, evading my desperate grasp. I push myself harder, until my calves scream and my head's pounding threatens to split open my skull, but it is still too slow. My boots drag on the earth.

A tree root sends me stumbling. I throw out a hand, grateful for the branch that meets it, but internally, ice hisses. More seconds wasted. More time for Finlay to catch up, to pin me down, to sear every inch of me in sapphire streaks.

No, Fiesi. Finlay is lost, dead, ashes in the rage of blue flames.

I shove off the tree and sprint onward. He's going to catch me. He must. Even if he doesn't, the burn eating through every one of my muscles will kill me first.

The path was more level than this. I must have veered off it. Clumps of grass battle me with every step, blades tearing at my boots and mapping my ankles with stinging lines. Everything ahead is a haze, swamped with darkness, the trees melding into it until they loom over in all their knitted shadows. My left shoulder knocks against a trunk. I grit my teeth against its throb. The greatest pain is the phantom burn entwining my spine, the pierce of Fiesi's chase.

The trees fall away, blades of moonlight sweeping over snowy grass. Something rustles behind. It must be him. I throw myself forward, faster, brambles tearing as I charge through their webbed mass.

My legs give way beneath me. This time, there is nothing to grab onto.

I fall to the side, feet slipping over the slickened grass. The ground slopes downwards. My stomach hits rock, and then the earth falls away beneath my legs, leaving me grappling for a hold on the ledge. Sweat slides my hold further down the stone until I am dangling at its edge, kicking at empty air.

Panic writhes in my stomach. I dig in my grip, panting, aches already lacing my arms. My feet scrabble for a hold, dirt cascading, chest pressing harder into the ledge.

The shadows of the mountainside above shift. A shape etches out amongst the vague forms of trees. Footsteps crunch.

He'll find me here, vulnerable and exhausted. I won't be able to fight back again. The dagger has left my hand during my fall, and I grope for it, raking through soil and stone until its hilt knocks against my fingers and I yank it closer. Relief is quickly shaken away. My trembling grip won't sustain me for much longer, and there is nothing beneath.

But even if I could pull myself back up, that is where he chases. There is only one way to go.

I grit my teeth, shut my eyes, and release the ledge.

For a terrifying second, everything freezes. The air is a void, the drop endless, my heart no longer beating. Then my legs slam into the earth below, and ice cracks to make way for agony. I crumple to the ground, barely grasping the breath to whimper before the slope carries me on downwards. I roll over and over, clawing uselessly at damp earth, until I'm only able to curl up into a ball and endure it.

Every collision deepens the throb in my shoulder. Aches cut into my legs, serrated knives that seeth and melt into my bones. I wrap my arms tightly around myself and pray for it to be over.

Eventually, with a final, jarring impact, my prayer is answered. I stop. I force a rasping breath, shivering with the pain the simple action brings. My entire body feels beaten, torn apart, gnawed at by the air itself. Sweat wets the back of my tunic, though it could easily be blood.

After an excruciating moment, I prise open my eyes. It makes little difference. All I can make out is a few grass blades striping my view; all else is dark and spinning.