Ninthborn (The Ninthborn Chronicle Book 1) by J.E. Holmes

Author:J.E. Holmes [Holmes, J.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2021-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

Part Two

— The Princess —

— Chapter 15 —

“If I am to live, I live by my own strength; if I am to die, I die in my own body.”

—a Ruiner axiom

Southeast from Tithelk was a steady slip downhill into sodden marshland. Between shallow streams and thick mangroves, dense mist hung at all hours in the unmoving air. There were other bridgetowns, on higher ground, but Ediline avoided these. She avoided the Rodiv, the river that had twice deigned not to kill her. Birds and incessant insects were the only wildlife she encountered, and she stayed far from any sign of people. Her pursuers had yet to appear.

Days in, Ediline was blood-stained, every inch muddy, every minute sore and tired, and still carrying a mystical ancient weapon that she hated with her whole heart. She was stricken with grief and despair at her failure, at her flight, at everything she had left behind. It was difficult to keep moving, to keep from lying down in the river and letting it carry her until she was apprehended or drowned. But she kept on.

More than the despair and grief at the loss of the only relationships that mattered to her, she was plagued by guilt, because she had been forced to leave Marv behind, the poor little animal. Her best friend. Who would bother to take care of him? Who would know to look?

She was lucky to be alive. Her wounds at the mercy of the river were mostly superficial bruises. No broken bones. Her wounds from Wien and her taibuo was also shallow, and healed well. For once, good fortune had shined on Ediline the Accident.

It rained only intermittently, and that was a relief. She was beyond any territory that was familiar to her, but she kept moving south and east. That would take her away from Tithelk, also away from the mountains, and hopefully she wouldn’t inadvertently veer toward the sea. The last thing she wanted was to stumble upon a bridgetown, but it was also the only thing she wanted. No one would recognize Ediline, but she wouldn’t be able to hide the bloodsword. Even if she had a sheath for it, carrying a sword was enough to stand out.

The air was hot and humid, and she was hungry. She had collected some fruit and nuts and edible leaves but ate sparingly because she didn’t know when it would run out. Wulfgar’s knife proved an invaluable tool, cutting carving and shaving with deft accuracy that the bloodsword couldn’t hope for. Water was abundant, in tiny streams and pools and calm shallows. And several emblems were hers thanks to her careful scouring: nearly twenty deadfish reeds, two fistfuls of windsurge moss, a pocketful of sageleaf, and—best of all—a full clove of obscurant. If she burned it, she could seem to disappear from sight and sound from someone who discovered her. It was a rare, incredibly valuable emblem. Any sources near towns were coveted and protected.

The eighth night after the disaster, heavy clouds shrouded the stars.

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