Sundered #01 - Into the Dark Lands by Michelle Sagara West

Author:Michelle Sagara West [West, Michelle Sagara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9781932100587
Publisher: ReadHowYouWant
Published: 1991-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

chapter ten

I’m very tired. Numbly Erin tried to move her fingers; they trembled in response, but refused more. She could hear, as if from a great distance, the sound of cloth shuffling. Rest would come soon, and sleep. It was cool and dry, and the sounds of the dying were mercifully absent for the first time in hours.

Sleep? Erin, there’s a Servant here. What are you thinking? Hysterical laughter welled up but she hadn’t the strength to release it. She could feel the trickle of tears along the side of her face and wondered absently who they were for. Her eyes closed over them, forcing the last few out, and the shadows that flickered at the edge of her mind dimmed. At least I’m still alive.

The thought brought her no peace.

Sleep curled tentatively around her and she let it pull her further away from awareness. Floating, she felt the lull of its eddies as they carried her away . . .

A scream dragged her back abruptly. It was high, almost mindless in its intensity. Although it was cut short, the shock of it lingered like echoes.

Instinct shored her up. Instinct gave her the strength to stumble out of bed—bed?—in the direction the cry had come from. Almost immediately she collapsed. The rough touch of canvas slapped her skin as she dragged her head up.

I can’t see you I can’t get out from under these—

No, Erin. You are in a dark tent.

The scream came again, weaker in volume, stronger in intensity. Taking a deep breath, she crawled; the pain that called her would not let her rest. Her hands reached out toward a patch of something that seemed darker than the rest of the tent. She felt cloth beneath her fingers and weakly pulled at it. It moved; it gave a sharp intake of breath as if it were alive. A whisper of a sigh came from her mouth; this was not what called her. She moved beyond it and felt a hand at her back, pushing her down.

“Where are you going, Sarillorn?”

The words made no sense to her. She hadn’t the energy to shake her head, but her sense of frustration grew. Her knees moved, but she could go no farther, the hand still held her down. Almost inarticulately she mouthed two words: “It hurts.” It was the only explanation she had the strength to offer, but it seemed to appease the darkness; the hand lifted and her knees began to inch her forward.

Her arms were already stretched out to their full length along the floor. She lifted them and stretched her fingers out.

Contact. This was it.

Something shuddered at the touch, writhing as if to avoid it. Surprised, she pulled her fingers away, but they were called back, to rest against warmth and pain. The struggle against her grew feeble; Erin felt an unfamiliar barrier touch her hand—an unpleasant sensation that reminded her of the color red. She withdrew her hand once more, and again it returned, called to the pain.

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