Slowly, Yu sat back up.
Did the Shaira not capture wizards? Was all of this an elaborate scam? Perhaps the party profited doubly — cashing in twice by offering safe escort along the Snowtrail while secretly delivering travellers to the witches. And even if they were confronted, could anyone fault them for claiming their charge had been taken by an “unexpected” Shaira attack?
“I mean …,” Yu fumbled for words, “You wouldn’t have told me, would you? If it were a secret.” If it were a secret plan.
“Hrrrn,” Harrow flashed a sharp grin, her teeth glinting in the firelight. “Yesss.”
Very much not reassured, Yu watched as Harrow stood, discarded the remnants of the firelight’s glow, and threw over her coat before striding over to Bawal, the other brannok besides Jerakill who had taken the watch after her. She moved with an ease that unsettled him, as though the cold and the strain of the journey had no weight on her at all.
For his own peace of mind, Yu forced himself to believe. He had no other choice. If he wanted to survive this curse-blessed journey – regardless of where it ended – he had to sleep. Exhaustion pulled at him like an undertow, dragging him closer to collapse. What other options did he have? Flee the party and attempt the long, unsecured trek back to Undertellems alone? He would either starve, freeze to death or fall to one of the beasts that roamed these wilds. And even if by some miracle he made it back, his shirka would only send him right out again.
Despite all of the mess and commotion in his head, there was a part of him that truly wanted to believe Harrow. Who was he to judge someone whose life had been warped by magic? If anyone understood the shitshow that came with apparent magical blessings that ruined your life, it was him.
Pages:
Pages:
Pages: