Page 98 of Fear the Flames
They’re walking directly toward us.
My anxiety is so high that every breath I take makes me cringe. I strain my ears to decipher how many soldiers are walking toward us. It’s somewhere between eight and ten.
I grab Cayden’s leathers, urging him to get closer. He reaches down to my thigh and slowly pulls out a knife, careful not to make the steel sing against the holster, and presses it into my palm. I wrap my fingers around the hilt, and he repeats his actions to pull a knife out of his thigh for himself.
I force myself to keep my breathing even and quiet. Cayden’s eyes blaze above me; he turns his head to his right and scrunches his brows in contemplation. The hill that we’re on drops off sharply, and I can hear a small creek running below. We won’t be able to jump without mud splattering and alerting the soldiers near us.
“These leaves have been stomped on,” a nasally voice declares. I close my eyes and release a string of profanities in my head. Cayden creeps his foot up, getting ready to throw the knife if it comes to it. I can’t move from under him, but I’ll spring up after him.
“It was probably one of our earlier patrols,” a different voice filters through the air.
“I don’t know,” the nasally voice says while rising to their feet. Their footsteps come closer to the rock until they stop directly in front of it. One of my hands tightens on the hilt of my knife, and the other releases Cayden’s strap from my grip.
His eyes flash to mine again, coated in a silent message. He brings a hand forward and presses it into my chest, and then points to the right of him where the cliff drops off. I hate that I can understand him without words; he doesn’t need to use his hands to articulate his thoughts. I hate that we share something so intimate. He’s looking down at me, and I know he’s telling me that I can run if I need to; he wants me to run. I shake my head to tell him I understand his message, but I don’t agree with him. A confused expression crosses his face. I lay my dagger in the dirt and squeeze his fist that closes around his dagger.
I’ll fight with him, and I’m not leaving him.
Not when I know we’re outnumbered.
Not when we’re inches away from Imirath’s camp. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing what they would do to him. I left my dragons; I’m not leaving him.
We’re in this together, until the end.
We’re both protectors, two people that consistently throw ourselves into strife, but I’d rather stare down danger with him than be safe without him. His throat works through a swallow, and his eyes fill with something I can’t quite place, but it’s close to tenderness and teeters on helpless.
The soldier is so close that Cayden could spring up and stab them in the gut. I could take another one down with my knife before they become aware of what’s happening. I reach up to grab his strap again. We need to avoid conflict at all costs when we’re this close to their army. I don’t want Garrick to strengthen the castle if he thinks someone slipped through the border. Another set of footsteps dance along the forest floor, only these footsteps are followed by a low, beastly growl.
“Netherwraith!” a soldier shouts.
The soldier standing above us sprints away from the rock and toward the netherwraith. Cayden quickly pokes his head up from the rock before looking down at me with an upturned corner of his lips, not quite a smirk or smile, just the face of someone that got lucky for once. It’s like he’s bragging to fate.
He climbs off me, and we scramble to the edge of the hill, jumping down. I resist the urge to shriek as my stomach fills with butterflies, and we land in the mud with a splash. The soldiers are still shouting above, and I know we only have a few more moments to get to solid ground. We can’t stealthily slosh through mud, so we break into a sprint. My leg muscles burn as we push through the thick riverbank. It’s up to my shins and wet enough that our footsteps cave in on themselves as soon as we lift our boots.
We eventually make it back to the solid forest floor, and we don’t waste time resting before taking off into the night. It’s only the beginning, but I still let the satisfaction of making it past our first obstacle mingle through me. I hope my dragons can sense me getting closer.
We make it to the caves a few hours after the sun has fully risen, and they’re a welcome sight. In the ancient texts, it’s rumored that these caves were made by the gods. I don’t necessarily believe in the gods, but I can see why someone would believe these caves were made by them. Several circular caves are perfectly shaped along the mountainside. Cliffs jut out, making it easy to travel up the mountain and choose the cave you’d like to find refuge in. I don’t care which we stay in, so long as it’s not open in the back. We briefly exchange words about wanting a cave about halfway up the mountain. Going all the way to the top seems like a foolish waste of time but staying at the bottom is too risky; beasts lurk in the forest, as do soldiers.
We climb the cliffs with ease. They resemble an oversized staircase made of stone. I’m careful to keep my footing on the moss-covered rocks as we rise; the last thing I need to do is misstep or lose my balance. The wind whips at my face the higher we climb; loose strands tickle my cheeks as they slip from my braid. I raise my chapped hands to my head to tuck the strands behind my ears. I wish we could light a fire, but it’s a luxury we won’t have until we get back to Vareveth.
When we’re high enough that a fall would result in death, I grab Cayden’s hand to stop him from climbing any higher. I walk into a dark cave that looms in front of us to make sure the back is closed off. The cave is tall enough that Cayden doesn’t have to hunch over to walk inside. I drop my satchel to the floor and plop down next to it, resting my head against the cave wall. It feels wonderful to be off my feet. We’ve been running and walking on and off, and the hills have killed my thighs.
“Cozy,” he says while mirroring my sitting position on the other side of the cave. We haven’t spoken much since we left Vareveth, too worried about our voices carrying while we’re this close to the army. It’s comforting to have put some distance between them and us.
“How many hours do you think we have before the sun goes down?” We can’t travel in daylight yet. We’re far enough from the camp that I don’t feel uncomfortable speaking, but they will definitely patrol this far back on occasion. We’ll be safe, or as safe as we can be after we cross the Emer River tomorrow.
“I’d say we have around nine hours,” he answers. “Are you hungry?”
I shrug my shoulders, “A little.” I feel like I can’t keep anything down when I’m this nervous, which is why, even after a day of traveling, I’m not as hungry as I should be.
“You hardly ate anything before we left,” he points out. Sometimes I forget how much he pays attention to me. Finnian has always looked out for me, but there’s something different in the way Cayden does it—something more intense. It’s like I deprive him when I deprive myself.
“I ate enough,” I argue. He levels me with a glare, and I know he won’t drop this until I eat something. I roll my eyes and grab an apple from my bag, sinking my teeth into it and letting the sweetness coat my mouth. My nerves are still on edge, but starving myself the entire time I’m here will do more damage to us than anyone we encounter. “Are you going to eat?” I prod.
“I’ll eat while you rest. I’m taking the first watch.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why is that?” he drawls. He’s impossible.
