Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) (25 page)

Chapter Sixteen

                                                        Saskia

(Sarajane)

Once I’m on the horse I make my way towards the

mountains. Alana’s map is easy to follow. When I hit

the mountain, there’s a pass about three miles in that

will take me straight to Saskia. I kick the horse, pushing its

body faster and harder.

After a few hours of intense riding, the sun is starting to rise.

I know I don’t have much longer before they notice I’m gone.

I kick the horse again, willing it to reach the mountains in the

distance. The temperature drops the closer we get to them. I

can’t think about what I’m doing; it just terrifies me too much.

So I focus on Josh’s face. I think of his smile and kind words. A

sense of safety and peace washes through me.

“I miss you.” Thinking of him pushes me on and I finally

reach the mountains. We slow down, our pace almost at a

crawl, as the ground is uneven and rocky. Goose bumps pop up

all over my arms. I wrap my cloak tighter around me to shield

myself from the cold. The horse starts hesitating at every step

we take. At this rate it will take forever to reach Saskia.

I tug the reins. “Go faster.” He throws his head back and

sighs; a cloud of cold air leaves his nostrils. I kick his side. “I

said go.” He rears up, nearly throwing me off. I grip his neck to

keep myself on the saddle. My heart is pounding. Something is

spooking him. I look around me, but it is still dark in between

the mountain. The horse starts moving back slowly. I let him.

I’m not risking being thrown off again. I keep looking around

to see what is scaring him. Stones fall down the mountainside. I

squeal. The horse panics, moving back too quickly.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” I try to calm him, rubbing his neck, but he

is freaking out. He moves quicker, fumbling over his own legs. I

know he’s going to fall. I jump from his back at the last minute

and land awkwardly on the ground. I roll out of the way just as

the horse falls on his side. He would have crushed me if I hadn’t

moved. He is still kicking his legs wildly, his head thrown back,

showing eyes that are nearly all white, and as quick as he falls,

he gets up on his knees and then stands. He is facing the way

out and he races off.

“Hey, come back!” I roar after him, but he’s racing like his

life depends on it.

I stand on shaky legs and brush gravel off my clothes.

Looking around doesn’t help. I can’t see more than ten feet in

front of me. It looks like the shadows are moving all around

me. I move back slowly and hit the stone wall. How the hell do

I get myself into such stupid situations? Here I am alone, in the

dark, stranded. 

“Okay.” I let out a deep breath and wipe my hands on my

trousers.

I start walking. Light shines in different areas wherever

the mountainside has collapsed, allowing sunlight to escape

through. It is now morning. I try to walk in the light as much

as possible. I know I’m being followed, but I can’t stop. I reach

the next area of light and bend down, pretending to tie my lace.

I slip the dagger out of my boot with shaky hands and hold it

at my side. The movements are strong up ahead, but there is

nothing I can do, only stay calm until I reach that area and

then run. This is the best plan I can come up with. The distance

starts closing in, and whatever is just a few feet away doesn’t

move, but I can feel their hungry eyes watching me. Shivers run

all over me; the hairs on my arm and neck sand up.

They slither out of their hiding places and surround me.

“Breathe,” I remind myself. Oh God, this was a bad idea. I grip

the knife. If I can take out the two in front of me, I might have

a chance at running. They circle and hiss around me. I turn in a

full circle to watch them as best I can. Now is my chance. I run

at the one that’s in front of me, sticking my dagger in its neck.

The exile crumbles to the ground. The rest seem frozen and I

run with everything I have. I can hear their howls behind me as

they take chase.

“Don’t look back,” I tell myself and then I look over my

shoulder just as one of them leaps off the side of the mountain,

taking me tumbling to the ground. I try to stab him, but he

hits my knife away and it clatters to the ground. I crawl back

and kick him in the face. He growls and reaches out with long

talons, tearing my cloak, ripping some of it off. I crawl on my

knees to get away. Then I’m pushed down, scraping my cheek

as he leaps on my back and rolls me over. His breath smells like

rotten meat.

The other exiles were cheering, but now they’re all silent. A

giant of a man is standing behind the exile. My eyes widen at

the sheer size of him. He looks like a warrior from some jungle

movie. He is definitely over seven foot tall with jet-black straight

hair that hangs down his back. His chest is bare and I’ve never

seen such black eyes. He places his hands on the exile’s head and

twists, snapping his neck like a twig. He pulls the dead exile off

me and throws him against the side of the mountain. I can hear

his bones crunch as his lifeless body hits the wall. All the other

exiles hunch farther down to the ground, looking afraid.

The giant looks at me then and speaks. “My name is Carew

Warrior.” I just nod, afraid if I speak I’ll say something wrong

and end up like the exile. “No others will attack you. You have

my word.” This guy could kill me in seconds

“What about you? Do I have your word?” My voice shakes

uncontrollably.

He inclines his head. “Of course, princess.” He reaches out

his hand and pulls me off the ground. He is handsome in a

manly animal way. I look around at the exiles. They are still

bowing low to the ground.

“Why are they following me?” I ask.

He turns, fixing the creatures with a fierce look. “You have

encountered them before?” The creatures look afraid. Good.

“Yes, one attacked me a few days ago.”

He shakes his head. “Our king will be very unhappy to hear

that. He will punish the one who attacked you, severely.” A grin

spreads across his face, making me squirm.

“It is dead.” The image of him throwing himself on Tristan’s

sword springs to mind.

Carew looks surprised. “You killed it yourself?”

“No, my protector did.” That sounds impressive.

He looks around, standing on alert. “And where is your

protector? I did not smell him.”

“Smell him?”

He looks at me angrily. “I asked you a question, princess. I

expect an answer.”

“Sorry, I’m on my own.” My voice is stuttery. His name is

niggling at me. I’ve heard it before. Then I remember Musa

saying his name. But I don’t mention it. I look at the exiles and

back at Carew. “Are you their master?” I ask. “Yes. Enough

questions, princess. You may pass.”

I gather my scattered cloak around me and walk past Carew,

and the exiles part for me. I turn around. “Thank you.”

His face falls a little as if no one has ever thanked him before.

Then it fills with hate. “Go before I change my mind.”

I run. I don’t stop until my lungs are burning, and then the

settlement comes into view, with a large castle sitting right in

the middle. That’s where my sister will be. I take off my tattered

cloak and sit a rock on top of it. I will come back this way

and can get it then. I forgot my dagger, but it doesn’t matter.

Tristan’s dagger is in my other boot.

Seeing Saskia from this point is amazing. The kingdom is

huge, stretching for miles, but I don’t have time for sightseeing.

I still have to get into the castle.

I move down the hill towards the settlement. When I reach

the village/city, everyone has taken to the cobbled streets,

bartering with goods. It feels for the first time that I have been

transported back in time. The smell of home baking tantalizes

my senses, but there’s still an undercurrent of sewerage seeping

through.

I move through the village with my head down, but I can’t

see the castle from ground level. I just know to keep moving

straight. Once I find the main square, I find the castle. There

are no walls surrounding it. It just stands huge and daunting

before me. There are a lot of people moving towards the castle

so I join in with the crowd. As we get closer, I can see guards are

scattered everywhere. Four of them block the main entrance.

This could be a harder task than I first thought. The crowd

makes its way to the left of the castle. I follow until a huge wall

comes into view. Everyone seems to be moving that way. I break

off and move down the wall that is facing the castle. A side door

is slightly open. I can hear the hustle of a busy kitchen coming

from behind the door. Steam pours out into the street. I keep

my back to the wall, trying to slow down my racing heart. A

stout man with a washcloth slung across his shoulder comes out

the door with a large pot. He sloshes it down an open gully. No

wonder the place smells of rotten food and sewerage.

When he turns to go back in, he stops at the sight of me. “You

new?” he grumbles. I nod my head. “Get to work, then. The

pots won’t wash themselves.” He pushes me roughly through

the door while mumbling about how useless his staff is. I move

through the hectic kitchen, keeping my head down. I can see a

door just up ahead.

“You.” I stop as the man comes after me. “The pots are over

there,” he says through gritted teeth while pointing. I go to walk

away and he hits me with a wet cloth across the arm. It stings

like hell. I want to grab the cloth and hit him back, but I have to

act afraid, which isn’t too hard. “Don’t wear clothes like that in

my kitchen ever again.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.” I race to the pots and start scrubbing them.

They are stacked in rows on top of each other, all caked in

different foods. Hopefully he will leave or take a break soon;

then I’ll have my chance to escape. I wash the pots while trying

to keep an eye out. Steam rises from large pots on the stove and

flames jump from pans; the heat is hard to tolerate. Then I see

the man going out the door again with another pot. It’s now or

never. I make a beeline for the door.

Just before I reach it, a woman grabs my shoulder, spinning

me around “Are you dumb? Boss said to wash the pots so wash

them.” This woman is a bully. I can see she is enjoying this. She

grabs my arm when I don’t move.

“Don’t touch me.” She’s wasting my time. I push her away

and try to leave again, but she grabs my wrist roughly. The

kitchen staff has gone silent. My anger flares. I grab her arm.

“Get off me,” I say.

She starts to scream, startling me. I wasn’t hurting her. Then

the smell of burnt flesh makes its way through the cooking

aroma to my nose. I pull my hand off her arm; a handprint is