Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Snap.
“No,” I whisper.
The rope is rubbing against a sharp edge of the gorge, the threads fraying one by one.
“I can’t reach!” I wail.
“Just try!” Algar sticks his hand down as far as he can while pressing his belly flat to the ground. But right as our fingertips brush, the rope sways left from a rush of wind. My body hits one of the rocky walls, and I slide down the rope several feet.
Another snap splits the air like the crack of a whip.
The water sounds louder, or perhaps it’s all in my head, or really, it’s the drumming of my heartbeat. The rope has now severed almost all the way through. It won’t hold me much longer.
“I refuse to let you die like this, woman!” Algar says. He shouts something over his shoulder. Seconds later, Zephra climbs down his arm with a thick, dark-green vine. Her eyes are desperate as she spits the vine out of her mouth and pushes it toward me. Algar grips the other end while I reach for it.
Two more snaps echo in the canyon.
The rope lurches downward. I can’t help but scream as I drop several feet, panic rising in my chest. I try to steady myself before I reach up to grab the vine with both hands and hold on tight. As soon as I do, the wood and rope crash into the rapids.
Dangling from the vine, I gulp for air, watching the rope I was just holding hit the raging water and get swept away.
“There we are!” Algar grunts as he pulls me up. I imagine how hard this is for him to do at this moment, considering he’s lost some of his strength.
I dig the tips of my boots into the slick crevices of the gorge, but I keep slipping. I can’t get proper footing. My foot slips once more, my hands skidding down, blood now coating the vine. I look up at Algar, who curses as the vine slips farther out of his hand. He loses his grip on it, and I sail downward.
I plummet and scream until I’m jerked to a stop. The abruptness causes my back to slam into the jagged edge of the gorge with enough impact to knock the breath out of me. Hands stinging and muscles trembling, I focus on trying to find a toehold in the rocky cliff.
I can hear Algar calling my name, demanding that I keep hanging on as he tugs on the vine. As he does, I can’t help wondering where Thane is. Is Rynthea okay? I hope Kelrean hasn’t been killed by the assassins. King Draedor would never forgive us. Well…if any of us even survive.
I need to keep going. I have to keep going.
Analla needs me.
But I’m so lightheaded. I blink several times and breathe deeply, trying to pull myself together.
It doesn’t work. If anything, I slip farther down the vine.
Just like the fraying threads of the rope before it snapped, my strength is failing. I blink back tears. This is it. I’m sorry, Analla.
As I continue slipping, something with dark, massive wings flies by. The sun is too bright to catch it, but it circles around again, revealing outstretched talons.
Great. Something else wants to kill me.
It hovers directly above me and, with a screech, clamps its talons around my body. To my surprise, it doesn’t pierce me with its sharp claws as it lifts me higher in the air. Its wings create their own wind as it squawks.
Breath fills my lungs again when I realize what’s happening.
I’m being saved.
Spreading its talons, my savior drops me on stable ground at the top of the gorge, and I land on my back with a grunt. Finally able to get a good look at the creature, I see it’s an oversize hawk with brown feathers and a sharp yellow beak. It circles above, cawing loudly, before landing near me.
It squawks again, only this time it sounds pained. Skin squelches and bones crunch like they’re being worked through a grinder. I can’t look away as the bird transforms, wings shifting into arms, beak diminishing to form a mouth and nose. It’s turning into a familiar man with a full head of hair and the eyes of a lion.
Naked, Kelrean writhes on the ground with roars that sound as deep and ferocious as the king of the beasts. He’s in pure agony, his claws digging into the dirt, bones cracking even more until, finally, the cries stop, and he settles on his stomach.
“Kelrean,” I whisper, crawling to him.
He struggles to open his eyes. “Zaira. My favorite mortal.”
A weak smile spreads across my lips as I reach for his hand. “You saved me.”
He smiles, too. “Don’t mention it.”
I help him stand up.
Algar hobbles toward us while pulling a robe out of his bag. “Good grief! Put that thing away!” He tosses the robe to Kelrean.