The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Thirty-nine

I collapsed on the dusty ground, my legs shaking uncontrollably. My cheek was pressed firmly against the sharp rocks which threatened to split open my skin. The sun was setting before me, and the sky was a wash of violet, vermillion and amber which would have warmed my soul months ago, but now left me full of dread. Night would be falling soon, and I didn't have any food, water or even a blanket. I had no idea where I was.

My body shuddered violently and my shoulders and knees chafed against the dry and barren ground as they attempted to keep me still. Even alone, I couldn't bear to show how weak, or frightened, I was. I steeled myself against the overwhelming urge to sob.

I had broken into a run as soon as I was clear of Castle Vakaar and its grounds. The few Vakaarians that had stayed away from the public burning had eyed me with suspicion, but I had stared them down defiantly. Call it fear, or call it madness, whatever it was it kept my legs moving, carrying me away from that cruel city and its malicious people. Preliah had been right about them all along. They were vipers.

The thought of her brought stinging tears to my eyes. The smell of her burning hair crippled me further. I felt the bile rise in waves from my stomach and the warm saliva stream from my lax mouth, but I didn't move, not even when the spittle dried and caked in my knotted hair. I simply blinked. Blinked again. With every blink I sealed my lids shut, hoping that when I opened them again I would wake up from this nightmare. It couldn't be real. None of it.

I was thirsty. How far had I travelled? Was I still in Vakaaria? Every second I spent there would be a second closer to my death. I needed to get to the border. If I remembered correctly, Kralken lay to the North, East was Forewind, West was Rinturst. But I didn't know which direction I had been travelling in.

At some point the grass had died off into weeds that poked through rocky pathways. They, in turn, branched out across the ground to form a desolate, gravelly landscape. I wasn't in Rinturst.

My hand twitched under me, starved of circulating blood from where it lay trapped beneath my chest. I wriggled it free and stretched my dirty fingers out, sweating when my vision blurred and I saw two of everything.

Water. I dug my fingers into the dirt, crying out when my nails bent backwards painfully. I punched the hard, cracked earth in anger, ignoring the numbing sensation that travelled through my hand in admonishment.

'What have we here?' the smooth voice drifted from above.

Recognition slowly dawned on me; it was like hearing the voice of an old friend. Still, my body refused to obey me. I struggled to stand.

'Your stubbornness, though endearing, is tiring,' he said seriously.

The feeling in my hand had returned. I reached out and plunged it into the earth, attempting to drag my body away from him.

A soft chuckle, 'Charming, as always, Valla.'

I saw him kneel before me; his black pants were stark against the grey ground. A cool hand curved under my cheek, lifting it from the gravel to face him. I begged my eyes to focus on his face and watched as he raised his thumb to his mouth and lazily licked it, before rubbing the corner of my mouth with it. I shrank with embarrassment as he gently massaged the taut skin where my bile had dried.