Shattered Line

Chapter 21: Into The Forest

The sun grazed the horizon, cascading fleeting rays onto Arcadia's soil. Dew glistened on potted plants and grass squares, spotlighting the blue leaves. A mist infiltrated the air, clinging and damping earlier morning travelers.

Isla tugged her hood lower, sweeping her locks beneath the cover. She passed a crippled old man testing his pathway with a cane. The rest steered clear, but their heads swiveled her way.

She looked forward towards the meetup point—the city's exit. Today, they left for the ritual site on Mount Avia. Varnis required two days to ready his men, now he would deliver his services.

While drawing her cloak closer, her sisters came into view. Layla had declared she would drag her younger twin to her departure. The declaration was inferior to the why. A foolish desire. Yet, she succeeded. At least with age, she corrected the inability to keep baseless promises. Isla snorted at her own prattle. Not a chance.

The leather satchel across her shoulder smacked her leg with each step. She shoved the sack behind. Her sister whined and complained about Isla having the proper necessities. And she gave in.

Isla had stubbornness, she knew herself well. But contending with a nagging, unending annoyance, her solid front lost stature. For argument's sake, how did she escape her without leaving these lands? The scourge chased her.

The blurred image of her sisters focused. Layla paced back and forth while Linda sat prim and organized, inspecting her nails. Beyond them gathered four men, their shapes and sizes a striking difference.

"Isla, there you are!" Layla shouted, dashing towards Isla. Her dress floundered and eased as she halted. She lunged forward, dividing Isla's cloak. "Why aren't you wearing the clothes I picked out?"

Isla slapped her hands and stepped back. "Hands off," she growled.

"Layla, why bother?" Linda added. "You're wasting your time."

Layla pouted, her lips curved down. "Fine, fine. But I'm not giving up."

She rolled her eyes and diverted her attention to Varnis. Their gazes locked, his bored and aloof, hers reserved. They played a similar game, each waiting and observing their opponent. One flinch would steer the course and atmosphere of her quest.

He moved, his lean body towering two heads over her. He carried his silver-coated lance across his shoulders, one arm balancing the weight. Magic symbols highlighted the tip, the minimal etchings amplifying the strength and durability of the weapon.

"Let's go," Varnis voiced as he scrutinized her next move.

She nodded, passing her sisters and joining his pace one step behind.

"Blessings be with you, Isla," Layla said.

She neither flinched nor reacted. Rather, inside her stomach clenched and revolted. Couldn't she be left alone? When would she understand? Nothing could exist between them, at least not anymore. Isla trailed Varnis, transferring her focus to the forest.

"Boss, you sure about this?" scoffed a man Isla's height. He strutted before her with his unruly midnight hair curling at his ears. "Why the hell are we helping a God again? Sure, the Queen ordered it last time, but this time?"

Varnis glanced backward. "Shut up Slate. Money is money. We finish the job and move on."

"I ain't okay with a God as the next ruler, don't tell me you are?" he retorted before spitting the ground. "Aren't you two the same?" His words targeted his comrades marching ahead.

One sustained a considerable weight, the seams of his clothes threatened to buckle. His ear ridges reddened, matching his short red hair spiked with sweat. He lacked the cloaks and coats worn by his comrades. Yet, the omitted cloth exposed the leather breastplate, a light brown against a pale blue undershirt.