Chapter 25:
Return to the Ridge
Glory of Ash
They reached the ridge at dusk. The camp was where they'd left it. The fire was dead. The fog was thin. Jorund sat on a stone, his back to the trees, the stalks in his belt. He hadn't moved since they stopped. Varra stood at the edge of the camp. Her hand was on her blade. She watched them approach. "You're alive." "Barely," Harkin said. Silla was with Bren. His head in her lap. His lips were blue. "He's worse." "The herb—" "The herb isn't for him." No one answered. --- Luke sat apart. His back against a rock. His knees drawn to his chest. His hands were shaking. The taste of blood was still in his mouth. Leon sat beside him. "You're quiet." "I'm tired." "You've been tired for days." Luke didn't answer. Leon looked at the camp. At Jorund, staring at the stalks. At Varra, watching the treeline. At Silla, holding Bren. "We should have left him." "Who?" "Bren. Back there." Luke turned. "He was slowing us down. The roots were closing." "We made it." "Barely." Luke was quiet. "You thought about leaving him." "I thought about it." "That's not the same thing." Leon didn't answer. --- Jorund stood. He walked to the edge of the camp. The stalks were in his hand. The broken one was black at the tip. "We need to talk." "About what?" Harkin asked. "About what happened back there." "We found the door." "We found a door." "It leads to answers." "It leads to more questions." Harkin stood. His hand was on the lantern. The light was dim. "You wanted the herb. We got the herb." "I wanted to save people." "So did I." "Then why are we still here?" Harkin didn't answer. --- Varra stepped between them. "Both of you. Shut up." She looked at Jorund. "You have the herb. Take it back." She looked at Harkin. "You have your answers. Write them down." She looked at the rest of them. "The rest of us are going to sit here and try not to die before morning." She walked back to the edge of the camp. Dorn didn't move. His voice was low. "She's not in charge." "Neither are you," Varra said without turning. "She's not wrong." No one spoke. --- Luke pressed his palms to the ground. The warmth was still there. The vibrations. The roots moving beneath the soil. He could feel them shifting, slow and deep, like something turning over in its sleep. He pulled his hands back. His fingers were dark. Not dirty. Stained. He rubbed them on his trousers. The stain didn't fade. --- Silla looked up. Her voice was quiet. "Bren's talking." Everyone turned. Bren's lips were moving. No sound came out. His eyes were open, but they weren't seeing. "What's he saying?" "I don't know." Luke stood. Walked to Bren. Knelt beside him. He could feel the vibrations coming off Bren's body. Wrong. Irregular. Like his heart was trying to beat in a different rhythm. "Bren." No response. "Bren." His mouth stopped moving. His eyes focused. "It's still in me," he said. "What?" "The door. The thing behind it." He looked at Luke. "It's not closed. It followed." --- The camp went still. Varra's hand tightened on her blade. Dorn stood up. Harkin looked at the lantern. The light was steady. Blue. "It's not here," Harkin said. "It's here," Bren said. "Where?" Bren pointed at the ground. "Under us." --- Luke felt it before anyone moved. The vibration changed. Faster. Shallower. Not roots. Something closer to the surface. "Everyone step back," he said. No one moved. "Step back." They stepped back. The ground where Bren had been lying shifted. The soil darkened. A root emerged—thin, pale, pulsing. It reached toward where his hand had been. Then it stopped. Then it retreated. The soil settled. --- Bren was breathing. Fast. Shallow. "It knows where I am," he said. "It knows where all of us are," Luke said. No one asked how he knew. --- The night was long. No one slept. Dorn held the lantern. Harkin sat with his back against a rock, his hands empty, his eyes on the dark. Luke sat apart. His hands were pressed flat against the ground. He couldn't stop feeling the roots. The way they moved. The way they waited. Leon sat beside him. "You're doing it again." "Doing what?" "Staring at nothing." Luke looked at his hands. They were dark. Stained. "I'm fine." "You're not fine." Leon was quiet for a moment. "What did you see? In there. When the lights went out." Luke didn't answer. "You were screaming. Silla heard you. I heard you." Luke looked at the dark. "I saw them." "Them?" "The ones who didn't come out." --- Silla was still with Bren. His head in her lap. Her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. "He needs a medic," she said. "We don't have a medic." "Then we need to get him back." "We're not going back." She looked up at Harkin. "Then what are we going to do?" No one answered. --- Jorund was alone. The stalks were in his lap. The broken one was black. The others were still pulsing. He thought about his mother. About her hands turning to stone. About the way she'd looked at him at the end. He thought about the herb. About whether it would work. About whether it mattered. He didn't know why he was still trying. He wrapped the stalks. Tucked them into his belt. He didn't sleep. --- Dawn came slow. The fog was thin. The ground was still. Jorund stood. "We need to move." "Where?" Varra asked. "Back. To the gate." "The door—" "The door will still be there." Harkin stared at him. "You're not coming back." "I don't know if any of us are." --- They walked. The forest was quiet. The ground was hard. Luke walked at the rear. His hands were stained dark. The taste of blood was still in his mouth. He could feel the roots beneath him. Moving. Waiting. He kept walking. He didn't look back. The ridge was behind them. The gate was ahead. One day. Maybe less. The ground shifted. Just slightly. Just enough to feel. Luke kept walking. He didn't tell anyone.
Please sign in to leave a comment.