The Healer ✔

Chapter Seventeen

The statue of the King loomed up ahead of them, the snow whipping around it making it almost seem like it was alive. The group huddled against the stone, taking the few moments they had away from the brunt of the stinging snow to gather their thoughts.

"There doesn't seem to be much of a path," Ragen started, teeth chattering loudly. "Are you sure this is the right statue?"

Elora pointed to the words engraved in the grey stone base. In tribute to King Reginald, best of men. "I'm assuming this is it," she said. "We might as well try it."

"We've got nothing left to lose," Nyal supplied, pulling his flask from his bag and taking a long sip from it.

"Except maybe our fingers," Ragen told him with a shiver. He'd brought the thin blanket from the town with him, walking with it wrapped around him tightly like a shawl.

"We'll be fine," Elora said. "It can't be too far."

"You don't even know where it is!" Ragen snapped, his anger finally returning. He hadn't been snappy or angry since the fight with Gaizma. Losing a limb seemed to have silenced the warlock.

"I do," she replied. "But I usually fly when I come here, which is much faster than walking."

Ragen groaned, tilting his head up towards the cloud filled sky. "I would kill for some wings right now," he said.

"Do you need me to carry you again?" Mikhail asked, pressing a hand against Ragen's side.

The warlock shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered. "I can make it. I'll let you know if that changes."

"We had best get going," Elora said, shivering against the cold. "I want to be there as soon as possible. They need all the help they can get if the war has already started."

Without another word she turned back into the harsh snow, ignoring how stung her skin and eyes. To her left was an obvious track up the mountains, lined with fences and covered in a thick layer of snow. To her right was someone that resembled a path, barely seen through the falling snow. It was the only thing the note could have been referring to.

She started down the path to the right, the snow crunching loudly under her boots. She heard the others follow close behind her, Nyal rushing to walk next to her. His nose was red, hands jammed into his armpits in an attempt to keep them warm.

The fire had barely been enough to keep them warm the night before. The snow and freezing cold wind had rushed in through the broken part of the building for the entirety of the night, threatening to put out the tiny fire Nyal had made. It caused them to sleep in a huddle on the old bed, blanket wrapped around as much of them as it could reach.

The cold was starting to get to her too. The tips of her fingers were going numb as well as her nose. She was sure that if she hadn't gotten Nyal to heal them all the night before frostbite would have set in. She didn't know what they would do if that happened. All the snow meant Nyal could take water from it and heal them whenever it was necessary to do so.

The path was long and treacherous, the snow slippery and the track running along the edge of the mountain. The four of the clung to the wall of ragged stone, feet sinking into the deep snow and soaking their clothing. The wind was strong and harsh, whipping at her hair and stinging her skin. It was rough, but she knew that the place they needed to go wouldn't be far.

Many times, one of them would slip on a patch of ice, catching themselves on the steep rock face or on one of the others. Elora tried to keep her wings close to her body so that they could keep her warm and not knock any of the men from the path. The slope was growing steeper every step they took, eventually getting to the stage where they were practically climbing up the path.