City of Mages

Chapter 29: Alara

A few hours later, Alara precariously straddled the large branch that stretched under Lili's bedroom window. The forest was darkening, the weak light of dusk no longer breaking through the thick tree cover, leaving the woods in deep shadows.

Alara shivered and reached to tighten the poncho around her shoulders. She wore her bruya outfit, the thick material warmer and less likely to tear in the climb. Her magite clothes were tucked into the small bag that clung to her back, along with a few loaves of bread and some nuts Lili had snuck them earlier. With some reluctance, Alara had also tucked a small flint into the sleeve of her tunic, easily accessible in an emergency.

In the window, Quenti fussed with the heavy rope, quietly tying it to the thick branch. Alara looked down as the heavy rope fell through the branches with a soft rustle.

"I'm afraid of heights," Alara said to herself. "I'm definitely afraid of heights."

"That's what you get for growing up underground." Quenti smirked. "Just don't look down."

"Right. Don't look the way I'm climbing. Sounds great. Thanks for that." Alara took a deep breath, trying to squash the butterflies that had extended from her stomach to her extremities. Against Quenti's advice, she spared another glance into the dark abyss below.

Yeah, she was going to die.

At least she wouldn't give Zinita or Runeo the satisfaction of doing it themselves.

"When you reach the end of the rope," Quenti said, "give it three quick tugs and two slow ones. I'll untie it and drop it down so you can reuse it the rest of the way."

"And assume there's actually enough rope to reach the bottom the second time."

"That's the spirit," Quenti said, oblivious to Alara's sarcasm. "When you get to the ground, remember to move away from the village and then go left until you hit the valley."

"'Move away and go left?' What sort of instructions are those?"

"I'm not a cartographer, Alara!"

"Which way is left?"

Quenti stood up straight, awkwardly pivoting back and forth as she got her bearings. "It's north. Away is north. That should get you back to the river. Probably."

"I love the confidence."

"Oh! I almost forgot." She ducked away from the window. When she returned, she had the familiar bronze dagger grasped in her hands. "For you. Think of it as a good luck charm."

"Great. I'll think of it as you returning something that belongs to me, anyway." Alara forced a smile and Quenti smirked in response. Alara took the dagger and tucked it into her belt alongside another sharp blade—a gift from Lili.

Quenti leaned awkwardly out the window and gave her a hug. "Don't let anyone see you. And don't fall."

"Your advice is priceless," Alara said with as much sarcasm as her shaking voice could muster before she started climbing.

She wrapped her hand tight around the rope, using her feet to find footholds in the branches, though they were few and far between. She had barely made it a few yards before her hands began to burn. At this rate, she wasn't going to have any skin left when she reached the ground. Not for the first time, she wished she had a more useful power, like healing.

Whenever she found a thick branch, Alara loosened her grip on the rope, letting her weight rest on it as she caught her breath. Each time, she avoided looking down or thinking about how much farther she had—or about how one mistake could send her hurtling hundreds of feet onto the dirt floor below.