Dragon Heir [Book 1] [Watty Award Winner 2012]

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Copyright © Gem Higa 2011

 

Something cold and wet dribbled down Leiv’s cheek until it trailed down to her chin, immediately waking her up. She wiped the drool stains that left a trail from her mouth, sitting up as she did so. At some point during the last hours of their travel she must have nodded off. It seemed her body forced itself to rest at every possible moment, probably afraid there wouldn’t be another time.

Winds quickly picked up speed, the baring trees twitching in response as each leaf started the stages of discoloration. Fall had just begun which meant it was too early for the cycle to start, but the outlands went through decay twice as fast as the other regions The winters were longer there, sometimes overlapping spring completely. It was like the place held its own pattern of seasons – changing quickly and drastically that not even the vegetation could keep a proper routine.

After leaning up against the bars for some time, all the muscles ached in places where they normally wouldn’t. Everything seemed to hurt; even when she tried stretching out the numbness, the pain would ebbed and refuse to fade. Leiv stopped trying to massage parts of her body, because it was completely useless.

Their caravan had finally stopped, but where, she had no idea. The few withering trees they passed had subsided, and left the terrain with nothing but rocks and dirt. Frigid winds whipped her hair, as the bitterness bit at her skin. Thought it was not pleasant, it was easily bearable. The rocky terrain left only a narrow trail for their group to travel on, one that was used quite often judging by the worn dirt trails they moved upon.

She tugged at the fringes of her cream colored shirt – which reached the points of her elbows – trying to bring it down further with no luck. Even her green and brown leather bodice, which served as a second layer provide no extra protection against the prevailing winds. The clasps holding the garment in place gave no signs of tearing, as the outfit held true. Though there were several cuts on her clothing, there weren’t any major holes that would cause air to seep through. Not even the fitted wool pants she wore bore any signs of true wear – the seamstress had known what she was doing.

Ahead of them stood a large rock formation, the barrier spanning a good couple hundred miles. The path brought them to a large opening, which seemed to lead into a spacious cavern. Desmond was speaking to Theo in the front of their party, then called out to one of his scouts. After a few moments the barbarian scout rode to the entrance of the cavern and went right through the darkness.

Tristan trotted his horse right next to her cage, holding something in his hands. “I brought these for you.” He slipped a bundle through the metal. “You might want to put it on. We’re entering the caverns in a few minutes after the scout comes back with the signal that it’s safe to enter.”

“Thank you.” Unfolding the cloth, she found herself holding a green cloak that was perfectly her size.

“It was my mothers.”

She looked at him. “I can’t take this.”

“No, use it. I insist. I’ve held onto it for far too long.”