Elven Legacy

Chapter 58

Noah

Over the past year, they'd been there for each other through the toughest moments.

'Just hang in there. Hold on tight. I'm on my way,'  Noah wished he could tell him now. But there was no one listening on the other end of that message.

Noah remembered when the catalyst had bonded with him, way up north in the White Mounts, in that cavern with the Winter Elves' ancient paintings on the cave walls. He remembered how it hurt like hell, recalled the intense burning sensation he experienced, making him believe that the skin, where the opal-like stone now lay instead, was completely gone underneath. That was probably why, among other reasons, it had been so painful for Jaden to have it get scraped out like that.

His heart clutched and ached. He didn't want to think that maybe Jaden had died from it. No, come on. He's stronger than that.

Those two dark mages, Neros, or maybe Tessa . . . Noah didn't have enough information to know where to direct his anger. It would have to wait. But the anger rose in him anyway, lurking about darkly. The catalyst's power, ironically, felt stronger than ever across his body, sparkling with infinite possibilities. Almost like it was angry too, like it wanted to do something about it.

Yeah, welcome to the fucking club.

With Fenek, they pulled away from the tight, brotherly embrace. Fenek's hand lingered on his shoulder until he had stopped shaking with the last traceries of pain and cold. Now, Noah just felt empty, and pointlessly furious.

His gaze prowled over Fenek's shoulder, scanning the desert landscape over the simmering horizon. Mix of sand and stone, with some stark-branched saplings, though they were scant and rare. Noah was gazing to the north. Toward Shai Saranas.

Now, he didn't want to stop by Penkanac anymore. Didn't want to sleep and rest, didn't want to wait 'til tomorrow and find some other caravan master they could tag along with.

"Fen," he signed, "I think I want to run. I have to."

His young friend frowned, his face very serious. "Then, we run."

"You don't understand." Noah's hands formed the signs urgently. "I want to run all the way to Shai Saranas. Really fast, without stopping – if possible."

"That's too far away." Fenek shook his head, knuckles hitting his open palm. "It's impossible."

Noah pressed a hand to his own chest. Then he replied, "It's possible with this." Anticipation coursed through him already.

Fenek's eyes widened. Then, he looked concerned. "But that means . . . I can't come with you?"

Noah worked up a small smile. "Yes, you can. If you trust me."

Without hesitation, Fen's index finger traced a circle, "Always."

Fond warmth spread across Noah as he briefly clasped Fenek's shoulder, then he told him, "Come on. Let's go get our stuff."

The next few moments were spent gathering their canvas backpacks and weapons. Shiros, the caravan master, and Jezeya, the merchant whose cart they'd hijacked to carry their stuff around, followed their every movements and continuously tried to convince them not to do this.

Noah, for the most part, ignored them save for a few polite words of acknowledgement. He was seated at the northern edge of the canopy's shade with his things, making sure he had everything and checking the straps. His belt's leather straps and buckles should hold his knives and chakram firmly into place even if he sprinted. Climbing to his feet, he hoisted the backpack over his shoulders.