Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Arranging the torch under my leg, I mutter, “You need to stay still or that mane of yours is going to be the hair equivalent of kindling.”
Shucking off my pack, the compass finds my hand as if it’s ready to go to work, and I picture the ruins as clearly as I can recall them, with the megalithic sculpture in the center—
The top pops open, the map appears, and the spinning starts. My heartbeat redoubles as I try to imagine making this foolhardy attempt without the instrument—and I think of what Mr. Lewis said so very, very long ago.
“One makes it possible, the other is the reason for it,” I whisper under my breath.
I think of the crown of black crystals and resolve that somehow I’m going to get that ruby, and then I’m going to force the Queen to accept her destiny.
I had to accept mine even though I didn’t want to. And now here I am.
Her Royal-damn-Highness can do the same.
In the flicker of the torch, the directional notes on the compass face continue to go round and round, and the red arrow works in counter to that. As with before, it takes longer, as if the mist is a disorientator, but then the arrow settles and points behind us.
So I was right, we would have gone the wrong way.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I return the compass to its satchel and the satchel to its place in the pack on my back.
Lavante is agreeable to the about-turn and off we go, trudging our way along until the ground becomes solid. It’s right about this time that the mist thins out—at least on the ground. There’s still heavy cover overhead, and I try to tell myself that’s somehow an advantage. I don’t know how, though, except for keeping dragons at bay?
But sometimes, we need to create our own optimism.
The ruins come up to us, it feels like, as opposed to my stallion and me approaching them, and I pull up on the reins while we’re still a couple of lengths outside the walling. Though the diffused afternoon illumination remains choked by the fog, I remember enough about the layout to know where to enter between the crumbling statues and how we’re going to have to go. I also see in my mind the web strands and cocoons that dot the lanes and pepper the collapsing buildings.
Like I’m ever going to forget being captured like that or the red eyes of those spiders.
Glancing at the torch, I know that the flame is going to have to do all of the work, and I can only pray that my foolhardy plan works. At least I didn’t plan on using the red wash and their supplication to my advantage. With this fog? There’s no sun to create the visual effect, no matter the hour.
“Faster than you’ve ever run.” I look down and think of the pavers we’re going to encounter. If there’s too much condensation on them, Lavante’s shod hooves will slip. “And fates, may you stay on your feet—”
With a shout and a strike of both heels, I command him to run.
Lavante is more than ready. The stallion tears off, making lightning speed over the grass. As soon as we get to the gates, his hooves hit the stone lane, and the sound is a blaring drumroll. With the wind ripping at me, I focus my attention on the torch, willing the flames to burn hotter and brighter—and just as the red fires that burst out of the red earth listened to my commands, so too does what tops the bundle of oil-soaked reeds.
If my flames go out, I’m dead.
If a lot of things happen … I’m dead.
Columns and broken statues fly by on both sides, and the salt in the air stings my eyes and coats my throat. I know that the spiders will come for us, I just pray that we are far enough along—
The first of them appears off to the left, eight-legging it out of whatever lairs they have. My instinct is to charter our course to avoid them, but I can’t lose my concentration on the torch. All I can do is hold on with my knees, focus on keeping the flames going, and trust Lavante to carry me down the lane to the statue.
Just as with the entry to the city, the center statue jumps out of the mist ahead of us. By this time, we’re leading a parade of spiders, so there’s no time for an orderly dismount. I pull back on the reins, and Lavante fights me for his head, as if he knows that speed is our friend if we want to escape. But that’s not what I need from him.
His velocity barely slows, however, and in the end, I just have to leap off. As I leave the saddle, I slap his rump so he carries on. Not that he wouldn’t keep going without me, his survival instinct being what it is.