Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
I climb back up and run to Thane, lowering to my knees and pressing a hand to his forehead. His skin looks a little gray, and he’s hardly moving. But he’s breathing. That’s what matters.
The woman who controlled the ledge stands a short distance away. She drops her arms, and her deep brown eyes connect with mine. Her gown is beige and billowy, her face utterly flawless. A silver crown with golden flora sits atop her head.
The man who manipulated the water joins her, and both approach as the tribe members wearing brown masks with hollow mouth holes close in on us. Spears are in their hands, and every single tip is pointed at us.
I’m hoping Kelrean can aid us, but he, too, has a hand in the air. The other is pressed to his ribs. His eyes are closed, and his face looks contorted in pain.
“Speak,” the woman with the crown orders with her eyes still trained on me. She has warm, wheat-like skin and hooded eyes. Her lips are plump, and pale-yellow lines are painted on half of her face. The loose waves of her hair are the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” I say, holding my hands in the air. She studies my hand, tilting her head a bit. The tribe thrusts their spears forward, bringing them dangerously close to my head.
“Do you possess magic?” she asks, shoulders squaring.
“No—no! I’m just a mortal.” I pull my hands down. “I have no powers.”
She scans me before cutting her gaze to Algar and Kelrean. She pauses on Kelrean, studying his robe—mostly the engraved emblem on the chest. He’s breathing much harder now.
“A royal,” she says.
“That I am,” he wheezes. “I apologize for my…my lack of introduction. I’m Prince Kelrean Shattore of Bernwood, and it is possible that I will bleed to death without your help.” Kelrean lifts his hand, revealing a fresh bloody patch on the robe near his ribs. It’s seeped right through.
“Kelrean, oh my goodness,” I gasp. Algar and I rush to his side, catching him before he buckles.
“You are very close to Immalon borders,” the woman says, like she couldn’t give a damn that he’s bleeding. “We nearly killed you.”
“Well, I’m thankful you didn’t.” I cling to patience. “Can you please help us?”
She looks from me, to Thane, and then Rynthea. “They are with you?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“One is a sorcerer with exceptional combat skills,” she remarks, raising a brow. “A severe threat to my people.”
“I guarantee he won’t hurt you or your people. I can explain everything if given the chance, but please help us.”
Thane is still unconscious on the rock. I really hope he’s not drowning from fluid in his lungs. Rynthea is stirring, so I assume her lungs are fine.
The woman sighs, glancing at the muscled man to her left. She speaks in the native Thelasian language, causing the man to straighten his posture. Then she shouts an order to her tribe, and they lower their weapons.
Two of them peel Kelrean away from us, while a few others lift Thane off the rocky ledge and assist a stumbling Rynthea.
“Follow,” the woman commands with her back to us, sauntering away.
I glance at Algar, who gives me a what the fuck? expression.
I have a good guess which tribe this is… I just didn’t know they still existed. But if this is the tribe my mother told me stories about, then I know we’re in good hands. They exist to nurture and protect, especially when it comes to their own.
I use that as my sliver of hope and follow the elementalists into the forest.
Chapter 33
My mother used to tell me stories about the ancient tribes of Thelanor.
We’d sit around a bonfire and listen to her exciting storytelling about how many of them possessed unique powers. Of course, there were those who carried magic like the sorcerers, but there were unique tribes who referred to themselves as elementalists.
I was told the elementalists divided themselves into distinct communities by their designated elements. They would often join together as allies when it came to external threats. As we follow them, I realize being separated by elements is no longer the case because this tribe has a mixture of all.
The tribe’s queen takes us along a hidden path, where one of the elementalists waves a hand and causes a thick set of interwoven branches shaped like hidden doors to spread apart. We pass through three of them before ducking under the thick trunk of a fallen tree and walking through gates made of silver. This leads to a winding stone footpath, arched by greenery that’s tangled in sweet-smelling flora. We don’t slow down until we reach the hidden world of Immalon.
The first thing I notice are the steep mountaintops in the distance with peaks jutting toward the sky. Huts made of brick and wood with straw roofs are spread throughout the village. A dirt footpath connects them. No matter which path you take, all lead to a crystal-blue lagoon reflecting a blue sky, mountaintops, and fleecy clouds.