A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria 1)

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” was all he said before ignoring all my other questions.

After a little while of silence, he finally acknowledged my presence. “We have a tail.”

An image of the inhuman rider popped into my mind, and I shivered. I never saw Weston look behind him, so how he knew someone was following was beyond me. I looked behind me but quickly turned back around. Wasn’t it a rule not to look behind you? Some kind of assassin rule?

In my quick glance, I hadn’t seen anyone there, at least not taking this trail. Every caravan rolling out of the city was taking a different path.

“Let’s lose them, shall we?” he asked. “You see the rocky terrain over that hill?” He pointed to the beginning of an immense mountain range, and I nodded with some hesitation. Why we were the only ones traveling this trail had apprehension clouding my thoughts. “There’s a pass in the rocks. Large enough for two horses.”

“What’s going to keep them from following us?”

He glanced at me. “They don’t have enough water.”

“Oh,” I replied as if that made sense.

An alarm rang in my head when I thought of the one canteen I had filled, but before I could say anything about it, he dashed off. I hurried to catch up, and we raced up the hill. Gallant gave Weston’s black steed a good chase. The wind blew my hood off, and the race was exhilarating. I couldn’t even seem to care that we supposedly had men following us. My only thoughts were of the warm sun on my skin and the fresh breeze against my face. There were flowers in bloom, covering the field like an orange and yellow blanket.

When we reached the top of the hill, I saw the entrance to the mountain range. It was like light and dark compared to the field. Fog covered it like a cloak, and as we got closer, I felt a cold breeze coming from within. I imagined it was the breath of an ice dragon from stories Grandmother had told me as a child.

Cold was one of the most uncomfortable things I’d ever felt, but as we reached the tight entrance of the mountain range, my thoughts on the cold were pushed aside when I felt the urgent need to take a drink. My throat felt so dry that it burned, and I had trouble swallowing. I reached into my saddlebag to get my canteen, but Weston grabbed my wrist. The tight entrance had our horses almost touching.

“You need to save the water,” he told me before dropping my wrist as if I would obey him from just those words. Get real. I tried to grab it again, but he wrapped my wrist in a vise grip.

“I really need a drink,” I said, trying to pull my wrist out of his grasp.

“No,” he said coolly.

Who the hell did he think he was? My throat was on fire. I tried to swallow, couldn’t, and felt as if I were losing my air supply. “You don’t understand. I need a drink!”

“I understand. But you need to save it.”

“Why?”

“Because the further we go into the mountains, the thirstier you will get. We need to save the water we have,” he said.

“I need a drink. Just a small one,” I begged, not being able to think about anything but water. Drinking it. Pouring it all over me.

“The land is cursed. Once we are out of the mountains, it will go away.” He let my wrist go, reached into my saddlebag, stole my canteen, and dropped it into his bag.

“I think I can regulate my own water,” I retorted.

“I very much doubt that,” he said dryly.

He was probably right. But you didn’t go around admitting your weaknesses.

“Why is it cursed?” I asked, the sensation of a scratchy throat hard to talk over.

He sighed like it was a grievous chore answering my questions. “A long time ago, a Mage came through here. He got lost in the maze-like mountain paths and died of thirst. Before he passed, he cursed the mountains. Any man entering would feel the intense thirst he did.”

My brows knitted. “Why would you take me this way?” The thirst was tenacious. I didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like deeper in the mountains.

“It was the least messy way to get rid of the tail, and it’s faster. It would take days to go around the mountains.”

After my body had gotten used to the thirst, and it became more of a severe annoyance than all-consuming, I finally felt how cold the air was on my skin.

“It’s so cold in here,” I said, shivering.

Weston grabbed something out of his saddlebag and handed it to me. A thick fur-lined cloak. I shrugged out of my own cloak; my shirt sleeves were pushed up, and I noticed him analyzing my cuffs. I tensed a little but didn’t try to hide them. I figured I wouldn’t be able to keep them hidden from him, being side-by-side for so long. Might as well get it over with. I slipped the cloak on, and the warm feel of the fur was inviting.