A Traveler's Fate (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 3) by BC Powell

Author:BC Powell [Powell, BC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BC Powell
Published: 2020-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

I regain consciousness with jackhammers pounding inside my head. Lying face down on the ground, I reach a hand to the side of my skull. A big lump has risen from my scalp, and the hair around it is sticky with blood.

“Hell hath no fury,” I mumble. “Even in this fucked-up world.”

With a hand pressed to the side of my head, I roll over and sit up. Darkness must have ended because the waterfall has diminished in strength. The spear and flasks are gone, but one canister is still lying on the ground. Tela is nowhere in sight.

“Tela!” I shout.

The only response is my own voice careening off the cavern walls. I pick up the canister and feel somewhat appeased because she left me the one that’s full. After rubbing a handful of the red liquid on my head, I drink about half of what’s left inside.

Wobbling as I stand to my feet, I steady myself against the wall. As the sap gradually kicks in, the beating in my head recedes enough that I can walk. I hang the canister over my shoulder and step into the tunnel.

“Dark,” I say, putting an end to the dreary purple aura.

I skulk through the passage and slide my body through the crevice at the end. Static clouds hang over the terrain. The ferocious flow of water that was in the gully earlier is now nothing but a feeble stream. Once I’m out in the basin, I look up and down the ravine.

“Tela!” I angrily yell.

Turning in a circle, I wait for her to show her face. When she doesn’t appear, I surmise that she’s already on her way back to the Delta. I wrestle with the idea of returning to the transport for more sap, but I’m so incensed at how Tela blindsided me that all I want to do is catch up to her and give her a piece of my mind. I run up the ravine and splinter into the light.

Consumed by smoldering fury, I have difficulty thinking clearly and focusing on the beams. Tela’s idea about going far to the north and coming back down to the bridge by the Delta never enters my mind. I blaze a path straight to the northeast, aiming in a direction that should bring me to the river right around the Delta.

After several hours are behind me, I pause for a brief rest on top of a hill. While draining the rest of the canister, I scour the landscape in every direction. Any clarity that I felt after Tela and I kissed is now long gone, replaced by outrage at how she stabbed me in the back. I gulp down the last of the sap, rear my arm back, and heave the canister as far as I can. As the steel bounces across the rocky ground, two murky shapes flash over a hilltop a few miles to the south of me.

The first thought that enters my mind is that I’d like to ram my spear down the ugly fucking Murkovin’s throats.

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