swam, and he let himself lean against the cliff. “There must be a Sherim somewhere nearby, and it’s nearly night.”
“Rel, I didn’t take us through a Sherim.”
“That’s impossible. You have to have done.” Frowning made the headache worse, but he couldn’t help it.
“I can’t remember much after I got to the Court, but I know I was in no fit shape to handle a Sherim.” She pushed herself to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder, “Besides, I think I know where we are.”
“Where?” Standing was getting easier, but Rel didn’t quite dare let go of the cliff wall. He blinked water out of his eyes and tried to see past the end of the gorge. It really was getting dark quickly.
“We’re out beyond Nursim. I went walking in these hills a few times when I went there for training.” She frowned, her eyes flicking down to her hands and back to his. “There’s no Sherim nearer here than ours.”
“Impossible.”
“I know. Come on, if we hurry we can make it into town in time to grab some food.”
Rel nodded. He let her take his hand - her skin was slick with water, but warm - and stumbled after her down the gorge.
***
About the author
R. J. Davnall has been telling stories all his life, and thus probably shouldn’t be trusted to write his own bio. He holds a PhD in philosophy and teaches at Liverpool University, while living what his mother insists on calling a 'Bohemian lifestyle'. When not writing, he can usually be found playing piano, guitar or World of Warcraft.
R. J. Davnall on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/eatthepen
On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RJDavnall
Blog: https://itsthefuture.blogspot.com/
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