Awakened Runes by Lance VanGundy

Author:Lance VanGundy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal fantasy, sword and sorcery fantasy, coming of age fantasy, fantasy adventure fiction, epic fantasy, teen and young adult epic fantasy, military fantasy, historical fantasy fiction, dragons and mythical creatures, action and adventure fantasy
Publisher: Lance VanGundy
Published: 2020-07-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen: Laryn on the Hunt

Laryn clambered along a steep hillside of shale. The thinning mists made her descent down the Korjinth a tedious struggle. By the time she stumbled through the darkness to the tree line, she felt defeated. Instead of looking for another bank of clouds to travel, she pitched a lean-to, stripped off most of her heavier clothing, then climbed inside a bedroll and collapsed.

She awoke the next morning to a chorus of birdsong. She lay awkwardly on her belly, and everything ached, from the small muscles in her feet to the muscles at the back of her neck. That’s what I get for being a side sleeper.

She rolled to her side, slow and cautious, surprised to discover that her breathing felt unlabored. The tingling in her fingers had diminished from the day before.

She shifted her weight and grunted as more muscles revealed their deep aches. With a significant effort, she shrugged out of her bedroll, then stared through a canopy of dense trees. To her surprise, hanging directly over her meager camp, a kevash tree drooped with branches laden with unpicked fruit. How far down did I come?

She grounded herself in the moment, in her breathing, and in her surroundings. After allowing her senses to awaken further, she began gentle stretches and worked out the major areas of pain. The reward of the fresh kevash motivated her to stand. She plucked a ripe fruit, then wandered out to a clearing. The valley loomed well below her. The village, or where she thought it should be, seemed insignificant from her vantage point. Good, not all the way back.

By the sun’s position in the sky, it neared late morning. She emptied her pack of all but a knife and some twine, then plucked a few more pieces of fruit. After dressing in her cumbersome outer layers, she scouted the area. Surveillance of the mountainside revealed that she could likely find this camp again. A rockslide scarred the adjacent area directly down from where she stood. The rest of the valley remained uniformly covered in a dense canopy of green.

The trees thinned as she climbed up the mountainside. Just as she walked out of the tree line, she stumbled upon a cluster of small plants clinging to a rocky outcropping. Closer inspection showed that the plants lacked the fuzzy plume or the thick roots of Broga’s beard. So she continued.

A dense, clouded mist rolled in from the west, and she allowed herself to fold into it. Familiar cold vapors pressed against her, leaving a kiss of moisture on her cheek. The ethereal swells carried her, weightless, and deposited her near the ridge.

In the daylight, she had no awareness of the clashing currents of zenith and nadir. At least I can’t hear the death sighs.

She decided to check her snares and managed the walk along the ridge with greater ease this time. While her breathing pulled in deep, rapid breaths, she didn’t suffer the exhaustion like the day before. She found all three snares, each undisturbed.

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