Shattered Line

Chapter 25: The Mountain Peak

Day broke and early morning flooded the cave pinhole. Her tired eyes welcomed the sight. For she knew, with light her journey neared completion.

Isla gathered her items, their dampness absent. The mild warmth produced by Slate's enchanted item had proved useful. Now if only he could be as well. She sighed, quiet and short. Did last night's verbal spat still invade her mind? Granted he was incompetent, but grudges created mistakes. She knew better.

Still, forgetting would be impossible, even ill-advised. The memory of his actions and words were valuable. Though she exposed a temporary weakness, her heart settled. Next time would be different.

Grazing her leg, she pressed the skin beneath her torn pants. Firm and smooth, the wound had disappeared without a trace. Her gaze diverged, inspecting her removed boot. The leather backing was mangled and rugged. She frowned at the shape. What a pity.

Isla laced her boot and peered at Varnis. He rearranged the rocks to remove their concealment. She stood, hunching her back and pursued Varnis outside.

Breaching the hold, she stretched her arms and cracked her back. Isla ignored his passive glance and inhaled the morning air. Sleep had evaded her, but the magic fatigue lacing her muscles manifested a fraction less.

"Boss," Ham voiced from the cave entrance. Large bags darkened the underneath of his eyes.

Varnis cocked his head at the sound. "How's his condition?"

"The high fever has lessened. He should be fine with rest, but returning will help him recover for sure."

He scratched his chin, sending the hand up his face. "Alright. I'll take Princess to the stairway. Keep watch until I return."

"Roger." Ham inspected Isla, his mouth cracked. But he smothered the gap and returned to the cave.

Isla watched his retreating form. What had Ham meant to say? Were they words of wisdom or condescending remarks? Forget it, nothing said, nothing lost or gained.

"Ready?" Varnis stifled a yawn as he asked.

She nodded before falling into pace behind him, his back straight and relaxed. He advanced without his men, even his healthy mates. Did the third ring's strength thin? Or did Varnis glean newfound confidence from their failings? No, a leader never flipped sides without purpose. The leading thought prevailed with her initial impression and daylight.

Light sprinkled from above, their streams caught and scattered by the foliage. Bird-like chirps conducted a lighthearted tune, pleasant and delicate to the ears.

Small furballs sprinted past her, they paused, black eyes staring and wrinkling their tiny noses at the intruders. They continued on, scurrying up trees or rushing into bushes.

Their trek progressed to another lake enclosed by high cliffs. The water, a clear sparkling blue as they traversed the bend. Light gleamed off the surface and tiny ripples spread from the center.

She watched the ripples, mesmerized by their appearance. An odd sight, but understandable as they revealed the large body beneath the surface. With one swift motion, the creature reared from the depths. Water gushed and streamed to the lake's perimeter desperate to escape the upheaval.

The creature's head alone encompassed the entire lake. The grandiose diminished to a graceless speck as the top narrowed into a thin frame. With poor support, the head flopped with each shift. Though the sleek white filmed torso widened into a wide foundation, Isla's awe vanished at the clownish sight. She stopped, watching the head bob.

"Ignore it. The Albata won't harm us," Varnis said.

Isla's eyes flickered between the two. Who named this creature? The closeness to the Ancient language held her captive. Well, finding remnants of a dead tongue never shocked her. But here in Arcadia, the past had a larger presence.