Page 66 of Curse of Thorns
Then, I see something white rise from the mud out of the corner of my eye. A bone hand grasps my wrists and pulls. I yell out and rip it away only to lose my balance and tip forward. I catch myself, but my arm dips into the mud and is grabbed by several more skeleton hands.
Panic rises in my throat, and I scream. I grab my knife quickly and slash through the brittle bone.
An entire skeleton body leaps from the mud and tackles me, arms grasping my shoulders, clamping. Muck drips over my eyes, and I scream, twisting.
“Die,” it whispers in my ear.
My magic responds to my panic before I even think it through. Blinding white power explodes, sending both human bones and mud flying in all directions. I run forward as fast as I can manage, knowing I must conserve my magic but also knowing I have to do everything in my power to reach that imposing forest now just a few hundred feet away.
More skeletons rise from the mud as it settles back into place, nearly up to my waist. Bony hands grip my ankles, then my shins, then my thighs, pinning them in place. I have no choice but to use more magic or succumb to them.
They aren’t strong, but they’re working together now. And who knows how many there are? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?
I send a quick blast to free my legs and keep a wall of light around me to halt any more attacks as I press on. Two hundred feet to go.
The birds sweep down toward me, and I shoot light from my palm to stop their descent. They screech as they avoid it and then continue their circle over my head, only much closer now. Anger and annoyance fill me, my terror dissipated.
I will not fall this easily!
My feet continue moving, plowing through the muck and continually pulling myself free from the living bones. I groan and slog through.
As the birds dive toward me a second time, I notice they are also skeletons with bits of mangled flesh hanging off their bones. I wait, pressing forward until the undead flock is only feet away, and I roar, throwing an explosion of magic at them. Several of their bodies explode into dust and sinew. A few are simply thrown back, landing into the muck and swallowed up. Three are left still flying, but they—wisely—stay back. Their high-pitched squawks send chills through me, but I continue my labored march.
One hundred feet left to go. My light barrier is staying strong, but I’m frustrated that I’ll have used so much of my magic during my first obstacle. There’s no telling what that forest will hold.
My energy grows thin when I finally reach the bank and—surprise, surprise—it’s a steep hill covered in slippery mud. It’s only about twenty feet high—just high enough I can’t jump. I have to climb.
I make one attempt only to prove what I already know—climbing it will be impossible. I leap up to the slippery slope, clawing and swiping, doing my very best. And I slip right back into the waiting embrace of the bones below.
I slice through the bone with a magic lit blade until I’m freed once again.
I turn and make a second attempt at scrambling up the steep bank. There isn’t anything to take a hold of. I slip right back down to their awaiting arms.
I fight my way out a second time, my breathing short and panicked. I need a plan B.
“All right,” I say through ragged breaths. “Who wants to help me out?”
I turn and face the small army of bones. I’m shocked at the sheer number standing before me. I was so focused on moving forward that I didn’t pay attention to their growing numbers.
They cackle at me, hissing laughter filling the air.
I’m not going to make it. It’s that thought that angers me because I cannot fail. I cannot succumb this easily.I won’t!
My anger fuels me.
It’s a trick I learned from Caelynn. Shut it all out and only focus on the bad because that’s what fuels your power. Passion of any kind. Love or hate. It’s all the same.
Well, today I’m running on pure hatred. I don’t know if it will work, but it’s my last play. If I’m going to go down like this, I’ll give it everything I have.
