Kirsten arched her back, seizing out of Thomas’ grip. She writhed on the forest floor. Britt opened her eyes, hoping to see the glow emanating from the crystal. To her disappointment, the magical crystal Kirsten had been using earlier in the night failed to work for Britt.
Helplessly, Britt watched as Thomas held Kirsten’s head, crying and wishing for her to stop seizing. Suddenly, she did. Kirsten’s rapid breathing ceased, and she lay motionless on the ground once more. Britt hung her head, knowing she should’ve done more to save her friend.
Max placed his hand on Britt’s shoulder, lightly nudging. He nodded away from the barrier and mouthed, “We need to go.”
She nodded and began to move in toward Thomas. Grabbing Thomas much the same as Max had done to her, Britt wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “We should get out of here. There could still be goblins outside the barrier searching for the one-way passages in.”
Thomas held his sister in his arms, crying, not voicing a response.
Britt motioned to Max and Bo, who came alongside Thomas and Britt, bending to help carry Kirsten’s body away.
As they got into position to hoist her off the ground, Bo gasped and pointed to her, “Look!”
They followed his gaze to Kirsten’s chest. The sapphire necklace Kirsten had found in her mother’s dress was glowing. The pink-hued crystal shone dimly at first, but within seconds the light increased, shining brighter with each passing moment. Britt exposed the cleft of Kirsten’s chest to show an astonishing feat. The red streaks that had marked the poison traveling through nearly all of Kirsten’s veins were receding. The poison from the goblin’s bite had made its way to Kirsten’s core, but the illuminated sapphire necklace was forcing the poison away from Kirsten’s heart. The brighter the necklace became, the more the red streaks dissipated. Kirsten suddenly opened her mouth and inhaled sharply, her breathing returning to normal.
Thomas laughed, a desperate, uncontrollably exhausted laugh. Britt, Bo and Max smiled, knowing that for now at least, their friend was stable. They pulled her limp body up, Bo volunteering to be the first to carry her over his shoulder as they continued their escape.
Max led the group upslope and farther away from Grandwood; Britt followed. Bo carried Kirsten while Thomas walked closely behind, checking to see if Kirsten was still breathing every few minutes. They slogged their way up the steep slopes of the Grandwood Mountains, pausing only to switch off who was carrying Kirsten. Each time they switched, they would have to ensure that the necklace never hung away from her body. Placing the sapphire in a way that it sat between their shoulders and her body was uncomfortable as it dug deep into their muscles, but it was a small price to pay to keep their friend alive.
Sweaty after hiking for hours, and at the same time chilled to the bone from the changing season’s evening chill, the group distanced themselves from Grandwood, until they could no longer hear shouts from the traumatized city under siege.
Britt rotated to lead and broke trail through the increasingly dense forest. A break in the thick undergrowth appeared. She followed it, welcoming the easier path. Tired and not questioning what caused the break in vegetation, Britt led the group side-slope on the lightly worn path. Still in a haze of exhaustion, Britt thought she could smell camp cooking. Her mouth watered. Distracted, she tripped over a rock in their path, stumbling forward but catching herself from falling face first onto the ground. The jolt spurred her awake and she took a moment to examine their surroundings. They were following a trail. The lightly trampled vegetation had turned into a well-worn path. Without having noticed, Britt had led them out of the thick forest and into an evenly spread stand of old growth pines. Though the crescent moon hung low in the sky, she could see a good distance under the canopy of large trees.
Six horses and a donkey stood sleeping not more than twenty yards to her left. The others behind her had also all been walking under the same complacent spell, not paying attention to their surroundings. Max followed Britt and halted just before walking into her, suddenly realizing what Britt was staring at.
“Who goes there?” a low voice called out from behind the horses.
“What are we going to do?” Max whispered.
Britt looked at Kirsten slung over Thomas’ shoulder, the pain in his eyes brought her to a conclusion she wouldn’t usually take, but they were desperate. Britt stepped toward the horses, now stirring from the activity around them.
A shadow of a man emerged from the group of animals. “Show yourself,” he shouted.
“We’re unarmed,” Britt called in response. “We need help.”
The man jogged over to where they waited just off the trail. He comfortably brandished a broad sword, looking as though he’d used it before. Holding the sword at the ready, he examined the tired young group, Kirsten drooped over Thomas’ shoulder. After a moment of looking them over, he waved his sword, “Follow me.”
Britt and the others didn’t ask any questions; they simply followed the man as he led them past the hobbled horses to, a small camp overlooking the widely spaced trees. Three large tents arched in a half circle around a smoldering campfire. The man halted them at the fire and said, “Wait here.”
They did as he asked and huddled around the embers, soaking up their heat.
The man walked up to the middle tent and pulled open the door flap. Poking his head inside he said, “Rune. Wake up. We have some refugees here who need your help.”
End of Book Two
Fall of the Kings
Book Three
Chapter 45
Hope
Max cast a troubled glance at the others. Seeing similar lines of concern etched across their faces brought him little comfort. Thomas looked the worse for wear, his pale complexion a ghostly white against the dark night. His bright blue eyes dulled, and his normally smooth sandy blond hair was ragged and dirt-brown from the rough escape through the Grandwood Forest. Max felt for his companion, Thomas’ pain was nearly palpable as he knelt near the fire, holding Kirsten’s limp body in his fatigued state. Max’s gaze focused on the streaks in her arms, the red darkening in the light of the fire. He followed the streaks to their source, the palm-sized chunk of flesh missing from her left shoulder. If it weren’t for the injury, she would mirror her brother’s appearance. Kirsten’s bloody wound had been left exposed when they tore apart her sleeve. Despite how hard each of them tried, the blue-hued crystal’s mystical powers eluded them.
A groan from inside the tent brought Max’s attention back to the man who’d met them in the woods and was now speaking to someone in the nearby tent. Max pushed his grimy hand through his black hair, its length two months longer and his appearance more rugged than before. Traveling cross-continent and battling creatures he’d previously only heard rumor of had brought more muscle and definition to his slender form. Keeping his eyes fixed on the tent, he wondered if an ordinary man would know how to help them with something that clearly began with magic. Max heard fumbling and then cursing before a second man stumbled out into the night. Seeing that the middle-aged man was still half-asleep, Max hoped he could truly be of some use to their unique situation. He was pale-skinned and brown-haired like most Westlanders, but stood taller than his countrymen. His build was lean yet defined, letting Max know he didn’t sit idle for long.
Finding his footing, the man pulled up the collar on his wool coat and stepped closer into the light of the fire. Before Max or any of his group could offer an explanation of what had happened to them, the man snapped out of his drowsiness and moved quickly to kneel beside Thomas who continued to hold Kirsten in his arms. He watched as the man examined her overall appearance, muttering to himself.
“What do you make of it Rune?” his bearded companion asked in a gravelly voice. The burly lookout had spotted Max and the others as they passed below their camp.
“She’s been bitten,” Rune said in a soft voice, one that didn’t match his outward appearance. He passed the back of his hand over Kirsten’s face. “Still breathing,” he added as his hand continued down to her wrist, “weak and thready pulse.”
Max moved around to get a closer look at the man’s examination process. Standing behind Thomas, he watched as Rune reached into his right coat pocket, pulled out a pair of spectacles and slid them onto his narrow face. Taking Kirsten’s infected arm, Rune held it close, studying it intently. His gaze hovered over the bite as he mumbled under his breath.
Raising his hazel eyes from the wound, Rune found his companion and said, “Saaja, bring me my clean cloths and a bowl of water.” Rune turned his gaze back to Kirsten and asked, “How long ago was she bitten?”
Thomas was first to speak, “The goblin. She um… It was…” he said in a trembling voice, the words falling flat as he attempted to answer the simple question.
“It’s been at least four hours. Maybe six,” Britt said, her tone commanding authority and drawing Rune’s attention. He did a subtle double-take upon realizing there was a Rollo Islander among the small group. Her self-assuredness told him that she was a leader among her people. How she came to be traveling with these desperate Westlanders was another story, he was sure.
Turning back to Kirsten and placing the back of his hand on her forehead, Rune shook his head saying, “No. That’s not possible. This is a goblin bite and when a goblin chooses to release its venom,” he shrugged, “let’s just say we humans don’t last very long. Once the venom is injected, you have less than an hour to remove the affected area before it spreads.”
“She’s not lying,” Thomas said, finding his voice again.
“The bite happened earlier this evening just outside Grandwood. We’ve been walking for hours since then,” Max said, feeling the need to defend them.
