SOL (ON HOLD)

CHAPTER 28

The most difficult journey of my life had just begun, and I was worried about my hair.

At least, I assumed that's what it would look like to anybody else, briefly glancing at my reflection in a muddy puddle as we galloped over the yellowing fields of Miriope.

We had set off at dawn's first light, although I saw no sunrise because my world had stopped spinning. Worrying about my hair was the only thing keeping me sane now.

In reality, I was not worried about my hair itself. I was worried about the green-tinted eyes that hid behind the Mycroft's Council's enchantment. My hair had hung down limply, the curls lethargic, the same way I'm sure my eyes were stained and, any second now, my fingernails would begin to bleed.

I wasn't worried about my hair, I was worried about my life.

I could feel my horse's muscles contract and relax as its hooves ate the earth underneath us, putting more and more distance between our small party and Centerfold.

We had been riding for about half a day nonstop, with little rest and even less talk. The only sound were those of birds, wind, and hoofbeats as we traversed the outskirts of Miriope's sparse herbalist settlements.

"Your hair looks terrible," Odelyn said, scrunching up her nose, as I stumbled after Adrei, still reeling from Ele's revelation, "scratch that, you look terrible."

I didn't bother to respond. Ciel probably hated me, the plague was spreading, and I was about to ride off to my death. My hair could wait.

Our pace was unrelenting. We needed to clear as much land as we could before nightfall.

She shook her head and sighed. "Come on," she said, sitting me down on a wooden stool.

She then proceeded to deftly weave my lifeless hair into large cornrows, tucking them into a neat bun at the nape of my neck, as Adrei and Fyn analyzed peices of armor.

She smiled triumphantly as she eyed her work. 

I glanced up from the yellow grass all around me, fixing my gaze on Ciel. His body was pressed low, against his horse's neck, and he looked unusually tense. Then again, I guess we were all on edge.

If only she could have fixed everything else too, I sighed, cornrows still neat and tight, as my horse's hooves pounded over the grass, sending clumps of earth flying.

We had about two full days of riding left before we reached the South Eurus border. We left the Coliseum three eves ago, and spent the first two days riding in carriages through Centrefold and Hyemale, stopping halfway through Miriope.

I rode with Fyn and Odelyn, Adrei sitting rigidly between us, so I didn't even have a chance to talk to Ele or Ciel. It was torture.

The ride passed in a foul haze for me and I was too focused on everything going wrong to notice the crowds that gathered to wave us farewell, or the fact that what should have taken two weeks took two days.

"It's an enchantment," Adrei explained, though none of us had asked, "you won't be able to spell yourselves more speed once you leave though. So make the most of the daylight."

"So make the most of the daylight" she had said. I knew we couldn't ride at night, it was too risky, too dangerous. But why do bad things always happen at night? Why is the moon so much more liberal than the sun? I thought, absent-mindedly as we rode on, making the most of the daylight.

I felt the lightweight, chainmail armor I was wearing shift as I resettled myself in the saddle, pressing my heels into my horse's sides.

She neighed, speeding up so that I was now cantering almost parallel to Ciel. His gaze remained trained on the ground before him and I was about to speak, before the words died on my lips.

I peered into the distance, making sure the light was not playing tricks on me. But sure enough we were riding straight into a savannah. The dry, golden grass grew long enough to stroke my thighs, as large grey rocks jutted up at random. I slowed my steed.

"This isn't right," Aester muttered, his black horse trotting slowly through the grasslands.

"No, this is all sorts of wrong," Fyn said, squinting her emerald eyes, her horse still cantering forward. She, too, stopped after a few seconds.

"Because there's a tundra where my Aunt Verne's herb house should be."

I pressed my horse forward, catching up with Fyn. And she was right. After a few miles the savannah just stopped, replaced with an icy, barren tundra.

We galloped forward in silence, our horses' hooves echoing hollowly on the frozen ground.

"This is physically impossible," Ele frowned, as we picked our way over the tundra, and onto sand.

I shook my head, gazing at the desert that was before us and the tundra we just left. What was even more bizarre is the climate didn't change.

As we galloped over the desert, the same steady wind that blew through Miriope's fields, the savannah and the tundra enveloped us. I don't think I even broke a sweat.

"It's the White King," Ele shouted over the sound of wind and falling sand, "he's manipulating the terrain."

"How- Why?" I shouted back, to no reply.

Ele wasn't paying attention, nobody was. Because everyone's eyes were focused on the forest in the middle of the desert.

We all pulled our horses to a stop as we reached the beginning of the forest and just... stared. Tall, thick evergreen trees formed a long row, like sentinels standing guard. Beyond them, I could only see more of the same - old, gnarled, malevolent-looking trees.

I turned, sweeping my gaze around, but the forest seemed to stretch on for miles at both sides. Actually, I realized as I turned around fully, the forest surrounded us.

I could hear small gasps as the others turned round, as well as a few choice swear words.

"Why?" River repeated, smiling nervously, "To let us know that he received our RSVP."

I smiled back, the gesture strained. What River had meant to say was, "To let us know the games have begun."