Page 11 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
The deep indigo fenwood of Nana’s staff is carved with intricate designs of cherry blossoms that bleed into the tail of a fierce phoenix, surrounded by licks of fire. The blunt end of the weapon is fashioned into the bird’s taloned foot, cradling a large, obsidian stone. The other end sees the deep blue wood whittled to a curved hook—the point dagger sharp. If her stories are true, many throats have seen their end with that hook.
Yes, I have long yearned for the day to see my grandmother wield that fine weapon.
CHAPTER FIVE
The fire burned out overnight, barely a smoldering ember remaining.
Looking around, I search for Locane but don’t see him. A blanket from my waist down catches my eye. A smile pulls at my lips, but I tamp it down immediately, imagining the scowl that probably covered Locane’s face while he covered me. I wonder if he finally left me for a lost cause. It appears he has. I consider the idea of continuing on without the glare of that man attached to me. The thought of going back to silence, rather than enduring his coarse comments, leaves me conflicted. I’m almost relieved, but beyond that small sliver of relief is a crippling fear.
Fear of being alone again.
I’m wholly unsure of what to think of this strange person who seemingly appeared out of thin air—at a very convenient time. He insists on helping me, even though his words and general demeanor suggest that it’s the last thing he wants to be doing. Despite his insistence that we don’t know each other, I can’t help the creeping sense of familiarity since we have been around each other.
Familiar.
Yes, that is the word I’ve been unable to pinpoint. The more I consider the memory that came to me as a dream last night,the more I think that Locane’s aura almost matches the calming presence that I felt in that memory. An aura that I’ve only now noticed I can see.
Is that ability another facet of magic that I may hold?
And with that thought, I know that Locane hasn’t left. My eyes roam, trying to pinpoint the direction of the gentle tug that pulls deep within me. Another thing that is familiar. I have felt that same tug many times—including during my impossible escape. Sensing Locane coming between a copse of trees, I turn my head in that direction.
Something isn’t right.
Over the last day, it’s like I’ve been waking from a lucid dream. I was wandering aimlessly before, with little questions or concerns and easily giving up on trying to dig for memories of who I am. I just kept moving in a direction that felt right. I know deeply within me that the memory of my Nana is real and true, and there is suddenly fire and fury in my blood.
My eyes trail on Locane as he strolls back into the small clearing without a care in the world. I’m on him in a heartbeat, hammering the heel of my palm in his chest.
“Who are you?” Another smack of my palm. Locane gives me an infuriating smile and says nothing. “We know each other. I can feel it,” I snarl in his face. Nothing. This time, my palm connects with his cheek with a satisfying sting. “Tell me!”
“I already told you. We don’t know each other. I’ve no idea what is giving you that idea, but I can assure you, we have never met before I rescued you.”
Lies.
“And how did you come to be in these woods just as I needed rescuing?”
He sighs with clear irritation. “As I’ve already said, Ellya, I was traveling on my way home when I heard you and decided to help. Simple as that. Whatever issues you’ve got going on with all this,” Locane gestures animatedly towards my head, “Has nothing to do with me. And I am regretting my decision to help you with each passing minute that I am around you.” He crosses his arms and gives me that blank cruel face.
“Then fucking leave! I don’t want your help!” I’m shaking now.
“My home is not far from here. We will go there, I will provide you with what you need, and you can go on your merry aimless way.”
Peering down at my dirty nightgown and bare feet, I swallow thickly, my sudden fire bleeding away. Though I am reluctant to admit I need help, I finally answer through my teeth, “Fine.”
“Fine,” Locane fires back. “And stop hitting me.”
“Stop needing to be hit.”
I want to hit him now.
“Yes, how dare I try to rouse you from a vision that had you seizing, or return from relieving myself. You’re right, I clearly deserved it,” he spits at me sarcastically.
My nose starts to bleed again, and he rolls his eyes, producing another small cloth for me to wipe it.
“I couldn’t help it with the vision. And just now, it was the combination of your obvious lies and your attitude towards me.”
Locane laughs and turns away.
I’m still silently fuming as we eat a small breakfast and head out for the day. Locane keeps a brutal pace. I’m full of fire and an infinitesimal bit more sure of myself today. The memory I had of Nana last night was a balm to my chafed soul; the memorycoming to me is like an anchor rooting me amidst this endless sea of uncertainty.
