Page 71 of Curse of Thorns
Islog my way backto the bank of the exceptionally smelly Bog of Bones, as the wraith called it. The mud slushes and crunches beneath me. Ew, I can’t imagine walking a mile in this shit. Maybe literally.
“Where is he headed,” I ask the wraith, half expecting him not to answer. He’s obviously not on my side, not entirely. He wants me living, but I’ve been around plenty long enough to know that doesn’t mean much.
The Night Bringer wanted me living. So he could torture me into doing his will. He’d have called himself an ally too.I can give you all the things you desire.
All you have to do is help me destroy the world and your heart along with it. No biggie.
Maybe this wraith is working for the Night Bringer.
“He’ll be entering the Forest of Desires.”
“That sounds better than a death bog.” I roll my eyes.
“It isn’t,” he assures me. “The Schorchedlands are much like your trials. Each step a new challenge. Each area of the land holds a new obstacle. Only, in this game, you have no rest, no time to refuel your magic or heal your wounds. No emotional support from loved ones. This place surrounds you and quietly attacks always, even as you sleep. It will become you if you aren’t careful.”
I take his warnings to heart, but my mind is ready to move on. “How do I get there without passing through your death bog?”
“It isn’tmyanything,” he scoffs. “I have been trying to pass on from this place for hundreds of years to no avail.”
I heave in a breath. “How do I get there?” I shout. I am so not in the mood to deal with his bull shit. “Or should I go back to the damn bog and take my chances? Rev made it. I suppose I could too.”
“Children,” he mutters.
“I am not a child.”
“Your thirty years are a fraction of my existence.”
I groan. Why do I keep feeding into his foolishness? “I’m leaving,” I tell him, and climb back into the muck without so much as a pause.
“Follow the edge of the bog where the stones are scattered,” he finally says.
Thank you! Was that so hard?
“The distance is twice as long, but it will be a faster journey without...”
“Without waist-deep sludge and skeletons to fight off, yeah, I get it.”
I don’t wait to find out if there is more to his monologue. I find the stones and hope over them, sprinting when possible. The stones vary between dark charcoal and light grey, but they are easy enough to spot. I leap directly onto as many as possible but don’t mind sloshing into the muck of the bog when it’s an easier path. I simply don’t stay long.
My feet are already caked with mud and those skeletons aren’t nearby—yet.
He’s right; this path is much easier. I may not have noticed the stones marking the edge of the bog without his instructions. They travel out and around in an oval, nearly doubling the distance, but my feet are free to travel at a quick speed, and I use that to my advantage. These two miles take several minutes before I find the bank slope still clearly marked with Rev’s and the skeleton’s claw marks.
I purse my lips and take a good long look around.
“Do you still require my help to find your prince charming, my lady?”
I roll my eyes because there is a very clear and obvious path of mud dripping from the bank of the bog into the trees.
“Don’t call him that. And don’t call me a lady,” I say, beginning my trek onto the pathway.
“Ahh, yes, I recall your disgust with your title. Why is that, do you suppose?”
“I am not a countess any more. I was stripped of my title many years ago.”
“And you still blame yourself for your crime.”
“I am not sorry for killing Reahgan. But it was murder nonetheless, and I deserve the punishment.”
