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Chapter Sixteen

Esme

I spin, expecting to see one of the afflicted. Maybe not closing in just yet, but spying from the fields or trees. The farmland is triangular here, only extending about two dragon-lengths on each side, and dense woods envelop the road a little farther down, where branches form a thick canopy.

Nothing.

Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, telling me someone’s watching.

The stunted, sparse crops make hiding a challenge. Agnar has also turned to scan the tree line behind the fields. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, and his other grips his dagger.

Why does he focus on mundane weapons when his gods-given magic is so strong? He’s clearly capable of using it to fight, so why doesn’t he rely on that? If I had magic like him…

I wouldn’t be such an embarrassment to my family.

Maybe it’s because of what he encountered before. The hungry earth. That might mean it’s more difficult for him to control.

“What did you sense?” He pitches his voice low, but I still jump.

Clearing my throat, I try to act like I didn’t just freak out. “I don’t⁠—”

To the north, branches high in the trees sway, jerk, then snap, echoing across the gray fields loudly enough that I don’t need to point it out to Agnar.

Dragon?

What else could be that big? Branches seven feet apart shake as a heavy force hits them. Even the largest raptors aren’t that big. The broad leaves of the trees obscure whatever skitters along their limbs.

The wrongness intensifies until goosebumps pebble my skin. Every Warden sense I have screams at me to flee. If only my feet would cooperate.

Agnar’s command penetrates my temporary paralysis. “Move.” He slides his sword into the sheath before grasping my arm. “Run.”

His touch shakes me loose.

We sprint eastward. The trees overlap the road, but it’s better than racing back to that town.

With his attention fixated on the branches, Agnar clutches his sheathed sword while racing on the balls of his feet to minimize his contact with the ground.

He’s trying to keep quiet.

At first, confusion grips me. Then I realize.

If we can’t see whatever lurks in the tree branches, it might not be able to see us either. In that case, remaining silent is the best strategy for escaping safely.

Light Walking, that effortless glide I’ve trained for years to perfect, kicks in like second nature. Now, only the soft patter of Agnar’s feet disturbs the quiet.

Fear eats at my heart as the branches sway closer to the road behind us.

Silence reigns for several tense moments before our unseen pursuer crashes against the boughs ahead of us.

How did it get in front of us? Should we retreat or run faster?

As my mentor always warned me, high emotions interfere with my concentration. My Light Walking fails as my foot comes down on a rock, and I stumble.

Agnar yanks me upright, eliciting a startled yelp.

The trees ahead of us fall still.

Hells.