Even if it meant walking to my death.įollowing the small, trickling stream, I scanned the perimeter of the stone wall through the thick, black trees. I was terrified but I would do anything for my family. My breath hitched and the tears began to slither down my cheeks. I eyed the steel of their blades glinting in the moonlight, swallowed hard, and then retreated deeper into the shadow of the forest.Ĭoward, my mind whispered. From the safety of the forest’s edge, which bracketed the wide road leading to the gate, I counted four guards, dressed in Dakkari armor of plated gold. The entrance gate was a short distance away. Now, I was only one of those things…but I wasn’t certain if I would’ve rather been the other two. If I had emerged from the Dead Mountain a few weeks earlier, I would’ve been dead already, frozen and blue and alone. I reminded myself that at least the frost had passed, or else I would’ve died from exposure by now. The pleasant, cool night air did nothing to soothe my fear but I forced myself to remember something good. My chest and throat felt tight, suffocating. They had lasted me on my journey from the Dead Mountain, but now made crackling sounds that made my belly churn with revulsion as I stepped towards the walled, glittering city. My aching feet felt like boulders encased in thin slippers, which were crafted from molted Ghertun skin. I was gasping, wanting to vomit from what I was about to do. I shivered, however, thinking that for all the city’s beauty, it resembled a weapon from a distance, with its spiked towers and glowing, welcoming light.
And the city had many, many turrets, some taller than the others, some wider, and some so narrow they seemed to disappear in the night. I had never seen anything quite so beautiful. The windows of the towering turrets looked like golden jewels, shining and glittering and beckoning me in the dark.
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