Page 100 of An Archer's Redemption

I felt her grip loosening.

She squeezed even harder.

A finger came loose, and I began to panic.

Another finger slipped.

“Mother! Hold on! Grab me with your other hand! We’re almost there!”

My tunic was nearly invisible in the inky dark, and I felt her connection to magic failing as her fingers slipped away.

Then I was thrust upward, expelled from the river, and spat onto the shores of the Silver Mountains. The world of light and sounds overloaded my senses as the froth of the river fell away. I gasped at the coolness of the cavern’s air against my skin.

I thrust my free hand back into the currents and reached for my mother’s arm.

It was almost impossible to see, but I felt her shoulder.

I pulled her up by two fingers and tried to grip her blouse, but a wave of power slammed into her body as her face neared the surface. My hand slipped from her shirt as her final finger slipped from my grasp.

Through the film of murky magic, I watched in horror as my mother’s form dissolved into specks of dim light, then faded and dispersed within the blackened flow.

“NO!” I cried as I dug into the current with both hands, desperate to feel my mother’s touch once again.

But Kelså Rea, the Keeper of the Well and Protector of Magic, was gone.

Chapter 43

Ayden

After what felt like an eternity of sulking before the endless wine of the cavern, I finally stepped through the sliver of an opening and onto home soil. The forest canopy, thinned by winter’s wrath, failed to keep snow from covering everything in sight. Moments after abandoning the warmth of the cave, my breeches were soaked to my knees, and chills raced up my spine to spread to every fiber of my being.

I should have shivered and complained, felt demoralized or dejected; but oddly, my spirit soared as crisp air flowed into my lungs and fresh thoughts of a brighter future filled my mind.

For the first time since Kingdom soldiers poured across the border and ravaged our land, I had a purpose: I would rebuild the Ranger corps.

Hours became days of trudging through frosty muck. There were no Kingdom soldiers in the woods. The only snapping branches came from animals skittering from my path. I knew there must be some soldiers making their way home followinga bitter defeat. While I hoped to avoid them, given their likely animosity, I chose to step confidently rather than creep back home like some burglar approaching a house at night.

Soldiers would not stop me.

Winter held no sway.

Neither the cold nor the damp could douse the hope flowering in my chest.

I felt important again. I feltneeded.

The Rangers were vital to protect the Empire. Our failure in stopping the Kingdom forces underscored this as much as any success of the past. The people—the nation—needed us. I would see our force rebuilt such that any foe would think twice before challenging our swords and bows.

None would ever cross the mountains in anger again.

Determination drove me forward.

Then an owl hooted in the distance, and my mind whirled. Thinking of Órla made me think of Declan. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to.

Spirits, I missed him already.

How long had we known one another?

How had that man become so entwined in my mind and heart in such a short time? How had he wormed his way inside and taken over my every dream? When had I surrendered to him?

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