Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Merc captures the reins of both horses and nods at me to follow their example. Lowering myself down, I wash my hands first to get the red dirt off, and then I rinse off my hot face. The water tastes different than what was in the stream that led into the Outpost. It has a bite to it, no doubt due to the mineral deposits it’s flowed through to get here—
“Sorrel.”
Anxiety prickles and I glance around frantically. “Yes?”
Merc’s scanning the trees behind me, his sword at the ready—and I realize I’ll never get tired of staring at him. There’s always something else to notice, whether it’s the gleaming waves of his hair, or the strength of his hand on that hilt, or the way his thighs bunch up … he’s a vista all to himself.
“Don’t lose that compass.”
It takes me a moment to decipher his words, even though they’re well and clearly spoken. And then I have to look down and resume drinking, my eyes stinging.
There’s a lot I don’t want to lose.
“Never,” I say roughly.
Seventy
Whereupon It Is All My Fault.
“Stop here. While we’re still in the trees.”
As Merc mutters the words, we both pull up our horses. It’s about an hour after we all had our fill by the stream, and though our trajectory has remained south, we’ve piloted a course through the forest with an easterly angle in an attempt to stay away from the stream—and whatever’s taking meals at its shores. Overhead, the sun has begun its tilt into the horizon, and because of the density of trees, it’s remained cool.
“What’s wrong?” I say softly.
“There’s something up ahead.”
“Like what—”
“The trees end in about seven lengths. But I don’t hear the ocean. I don’t know what we’re going into.”
And that’s when I see it as well. Up ahead, there’s just sky through the trunks and branches … almost as if we’ve reached the end of this part of Anathos. But that can’t be. Unless the Kingdom of the South has broken off the continent and been swallowed by the sea.
“Again, I don’t hear waves,” he mutters. “So it’s not the ocean.”
When we restart, I notice that the wind increases as we press forward, and the closer we get to the forest edge, the more my instincts prickle. Something is very different, and all I can see is the horizon—
We break through the trees all at once, and I gasp.
As Merc’s horse throws its front hooves into a stop, and even Lavante shies back, I can’t take my eyes off the vista that unfolds below.
We’re on the lip of a steep slope that drops down to the ancient ruins of a city made of marble. Set within a crumbled wall of the creamy stone, there are the bare bones of columned temples and buildings, and statuary set on plinths that are missing pieces, and obelisks that are laying on the ground, not standing upright in the air. The layout of streets is set at right angles, and everything appears oriented around a tremendous center statue of some kind of goddess. It seems a miracle she’s still vertical on her massive base, as there’s debris everywhere, blocking off whole sections of the—
Abruptly, the aches and pains that have been plaguing me since I fell off Lavante coalesce in between my temples.
“There’s no way around so we must go down there,” Merc says.
I force my tired eyes to focus again. On the far side of the metropolis, there’s another rise, just like the one we’re on the precipice of, but a fog—or maybe it’s low-lying clouds—prevents me from seeing what might be on it.
At least the view to the east is clear, and it takes my breath away—
“Fates,” I breathe. “I’ve never … seen the ocean before.”
It’s the most beautiful thing I ever have set my eyes upon. The vastness, the slight arc where the water meets the sky, the tremendous waves that crest and fall against the shore—so big they’re obvious even from this distance. I can imagine the sun rising, pink and peach rays stretching out overhead and coloring the blue-green expanse with flashes of precious gems.
As I trace back to the ancient city’s grand, decayed entry, my eyes scan a vast plain of vegetation. It’s not hard to envision grazing fields and herding pastures linking the ocean to its walls, and I can almost hear the chatter, the music, the lives being lived in what once was surely a peaceable kingdom.
“We don’t have much light left,” Merc remarks.
He’s right. The jagged peaks of the western mountains are already cutting off the sunshine, and as I measure the claw-like shadows that are thrown across the ruins, I feel like I’m witnessing a death that transpired long, long ago.
“What happened here,” I murmur. “And I suppose it’s been forgotten, cut off by the Crystal Gate and the mountains—”