Revolutions

167 - Legido

"Move!"

Landera's command cuts through the chaos. Her hand clamps around your arm, yanking you back from the cliff's edge. "Forget the damn scroll! We'll die for it if you don't start running!"

But you can't. You won't. Your feet skid against the loose gravel, slipping on the crumbling edge as you fight against her grip. "I can't leave it!" you shout, twisting free. The scroll is wedged precariously on a jagged outcropping, taunting you from a few feet below.

Landera curses a string of words too venomous and rapid to fully catch. Behind her, Iker stumbles clumsily in his state of panic. His wide eyes dart between you and the dark ridge above where shadows shift and grow.

"They're coming!" he exclaims with a trembling voice.

You don't have time to think. You drop to your stomach, your palms scraping against the rough stone as you reach for the scroll. The biting wind pulls at you, threatening to jostle the scroll loose, or even unmoor you completely.

"Are you insane?!" Landera snarls. "We're not dying for a piece of parchment!"

You grind your teeth as your fingers barely brush the parchment again. The shouts grow louder, closer—almost on top of you. You think you hear the hurried crunch crunch of boots against the loose rock, and the rhythmic clatter of muskets.

One more inch. One more stretch. The edge of the scroll is maddeningly close, making a mockery of your straining fingertips. Your shoulder burns as you extend more and more, and every instinct in your body begs you to stop, to pull back.

But you know you can't stop. Not until the scroll is back in your hands.

The parchment flutters slightly, caught in the mountain's fickle breath. You lunge again, cutting your fingers as they scrape stone, digging deep into cracks and crevices to anchor yourself as you draw closer, and closer. Just a little more, you keep telling yourself. A little... more...

Your hand brushes the edge of the scroll. Relief flares before it slips through your grasp once again. A strangled sound escapes your throat—half curse, half cry—as you twist your body, ignoring the burn in your muscles and the precarious sway of the ground beneath you.

This time, your fingers hook the scroll's frayed edge. Its coarse fibers feel glorious as they scrape across your palm. You cling to it like a lifeline, relishing in victory. You've done it! you exclaim internally. It's back in your hands!

But the victory is short-lived. The ground shifts beneath you, loose rocks tumbling and clattering down the cliffside. The sound is a thunderous warning that reverberates through your bones. This could all fall apart at any moment. Your balance wavers, and the world tilts violently as you begin to lose your grip on the scroll you've fought so hard to retrieve.

"Hold on!" Landera calls out. Her hand grabs your arm, and she uses all the might she possesses to pull you back. Your knees scrape against the uneven ground, pain flaring as you're dragged away from the edge.

When you finally collapse onto the plateau, your entire body trembles. The world blurs for a moment, but the sensation of the scroll beneath your fingers is the only thing you care about.

"Got it!" you gasp, clutching the scroll to your chest as Landera drags you up in one swift, panicked motion. Her face is pale with fury and fear, but there's no time for her to unleash the tirade building behind her clenched jaw and flaring nostrils.

"Run," she spits instead.

The terrain is a labyrinth of rugged paths and jagged cliffs. You've barely gotten your footing before the shouts turn into a deafening roar, echoing through the narrow gorge.