Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

40

One foot, then another. Exhaustion had turned Mhera's legs to lead. Her eyes were closing although she continued to move; she kept forcing them open, only to realize a moment later that they had closed again as her body tried to drag her down into sleep. Her braid had come undone at some point along the way and was unraveling. Wisps of hair stuck to her cheeks and neck. The deeper they went into the Duskwood, the more closely the shadows gathered around them, but she was beyond feeling fear of the unknown; she was in a half-living state, sleepwalking. Dimly, she was aware of the aching muscles in her feet and the sting of blisters.

She followed Matei almost blindly, having to keep closer to him than she liked to avoid losing her way in the dark. He seemed to fare no better than she. Even through eyes fogged with her tiredness, Mhera could tell that he was still in pain, and worse off than before. At times, his breathing grew labored, and the sweat upon his brow seemed to come not only from the exercise. He was limping now, his left hand a white-knuckled fist at his side, rising a bit each time he passed near a tree, as if he were prepared to sink against a sturdy trunk at any moment.

The rose moon had risen into the sky, but it made little difference in the gloom of the Duskwood. Surely they must stop soon. Surely they must reach their destination. If they continued walking in the dark, they would fall down a gully; she would break a leg, or he would split his skull, and then what? Yet he walked on as if he were one of the stone golems from the prison, senseless to pain or weariness.

Tears welled up in Mhera's eyes: tears of exhaustion, of frustration, of helplessness. She staggered as her vision blurred and reached out to catch herself on a tree.

Matei turned round at the sound of her unsteady footstep. She couldn't make out his face clearly in the gloom. She drew a shaking breath and let it out in a sob. When he heard her, his voice cut impatiently through the dark: "Why are you crying?"

"Please, Matei, we must stop," Mhera said. "I can't go any farther. Not tonight. If I must go to this evil place, at least let me live to get there."

"Evil place," Matei echoed. She could hear the angry twist of his mouth in his tone. "As I would expect of a Starborn woman, and a royal one at that. Stop your weeping and straighten your back, Mhera. You will someday learn, as you obviously have not already, that all you hear in stories is not true."

Mhera's breath caught in her throat. "I don't—"

"I suggest you gather yourself and take all this in stride, because if I must go on, so must you! And I will drag you all the way by the hair of your head if I must. For all your pretty tears, you know nothing of pain. I will not scruple to goad you forward if it comes to it."

His fiery threat had its intended effect. The words were like a knife at her throat. Mhera wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and lowered her head. She clenched her shaking hands into fists and forced her tortured feet to move, forced herself somehow to go on.

Matei turned on his heel and began to walk again, and although he himself was limping and grimacing, he continued as quickly as before.

They walked for a long time more before Matei fell.

Mhera heard him rather than saw him. There was a rustle, a crash, and a hiss of pain. She peered through the darkness, trying to see what had happened, but the shadows of the trees closed in around her, disorienting her. "Matei?"

She heard more rustling and saw a dark shape moving near at hand. He was extricating himself from the underbrush. She stood still, feeling sluggish and stupid. "Are you alright?"

"We stop here," came the defeated reply. "Help me—I dropped the pack."

Mhera trudged forward toward him. Not far from where he stood, she kicked the pack with her foot. She bent over to pick it up; the slow, aching motion felt like it took an eternity to complete.