Shock of Fate: A Young Adult Fantasy Adventure (Anchoress Series Book 1)

by D. L. Armillei

  A Tarc easily lifted Van onto one of the allocameli. She felt as if she were sitting on a moving building and became woozy. She thought of the Twin Gemstones, reassured that hers was still safely tucked in her pants pocket.

  The Tarcs secured Jorie, Brux, Elmot, and Paley onto other allocameli, each accompanied by a rider. The Tarcs left nothing they considered of value, including the team’s backpacks and tents.

  With surprising agility, Godreel lifted his massive body onto his allocamelus. The other Tarcs did the same. They traveled over freezing mountain terrain, in the opposite direction of the Caves of Wolfenden. Every step of the allocameli took Van and her team farther away from the Coin. They talked little and stopped only once to rest and eat.

  The sun dropped, and the Tarc Lord commanded his underlings to untie the prisoners’ hands. He ordered Van and the others to set up camp for the night, for the Tarcs and for themselves. After the site was made to the Tarc Lord’s satisfaction, Brux and Elmot put up two tents. The Tarcs shoved Van, Jorie, and Paley into one tent and Brux and Elmot into the other. The Tarcs searched their backpacks and then threw the packs into the tents after them, willy-nilly.

  “I’m surprised they gave us our stuff.” Van rummaged through Brux’s backpack, hoping to find some toothpaste.

  “And let us sleep in tents,” Paley added, grabbing a pack. “Not that I’m complaining.” The Tarcs had tossed Paley’s backpack into their tent.

  “The Tarcs are protecting their valuable human merchandise,” Jorie explained. She had her own backpack, too. “They think we need the items in our packs to keep healthy. They’re trying hard to create an impression among the Balish that they’re a civilized race.”

  Van snorted. “They have a long way to go.”

  A hulking mass sat guard outside Van, Paley, and Jorie’s tent. Every time they tried to talk, he would shush them. Finally, he burst his head into their tent and threatened to re-tie their hands and bind their mouths if they didn’t quiet down.

  Resigned, Jorie ordered Van and Paley to sleep, but not before saying a prayer to the Light that tomorrow would bring good fortune.

  Van wasn’t able to finish the prayer with Jorie. As soon as her head hit the padding of her sleeping bag, she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Days 15, 16, and 17: Living World

  Van awoke exhausted. The delicious smell of cooking meat made her stomach growl and gave her an incentive to get up.

  Paley stirred and stretched her arms. “Mmm, what’s that smell?”

  Jorie, who was already awake, said, “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I can’t place it.” The Tarc guarding the door grumbled something, then opened the tent flap and ordered them out, one at a time, so he could re-bind their hands.

  “Is this really necessary?” Van asked, rolling her eyes as she offered her pink wrists.

  The Tarc shoved Van, Jorie, and Paley near the campfire with Brux and Elmot.

  “They’re cooking buffalroo,” Brux said to Jorie. “What gives?”

  “They’re breaking a bunch of laws, far as I can tell,” Jorie said.

  “Do you think they’ll give us some?” Paley said. “I’m starving.”

  The Tarcs brought over portions for each of them. At first, Van felt disgusted at the thought of eating buffalroo—weird meat from a protected species she had never even heard of before coming here. But her rumbling stomach demanded that she take a tiny taste. Then she wolfed the whole thing down.

  After breakfast, they moved on.

  A silky grayness settled over the sky, and thick, clumpy flakes of snow draped the landscape. They kept up an unwavering pace, getting closer and closer to Kezef—and farther and farther from the Coin.

  By late afternoon, Van’s lower back and inner thighs ached from riding on the allocamelus for so long. The bindings on her wrists had turned them red, raw, and bloody. The grandfather clock Van had seen in Uxa’s office haunted her every thought, as it counted down the remaining time for her team. Every fleeting minute pounded like a sledgehammer in her head. Every cell in Van’s body screamed for her to turn back toward the Coin. Turn back. Find a way. Get the Coin. The Coin.

  She no longer felt the freezing cold or her aching body. The beautiful snowy landscape had turned gray. She felt weak and sleepy. Did she still have her Gemstone? She couldn’t remember. She needed sleep. She felt herself slip, in slow motion, as the allocamelus plodded on, oblivious to the peril of its rider. Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

  Van didn’t open her eyes again until the next day. Her hands were untied. Her head rested on Brux’s lap. Again. She groaned.

  The Tarcs had untied all of their hands, and now they huddled together in a clearing. The Tarcs roamed around them with no fear the puny humans would risk attempting an escape.

  “You were draped over an allocamelus like a sack of potatoes for the rest of yesterday’s ride,” Paley informed Van.

  “It’s the Gemstones,” Brux said, straining to keep his angry tone in check. “You’re using them correctly, but Paley still saps your energy. She has been the whole time. That’s how they work.”

  “Sorry,” Paley said, sulking.

  “Or, you might just be sickly by nature,” Jorie stated.

  “Gee, thanks,” mumbled Van. She wasn’t in the mood for Jorie and her warrior crap.

  Brux helped Van to a sitting position. “The good news is the Tarcs will probably throw you back,” he said, trying to cheer her up. “Too weak for breeding or for doing housework.” He grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Doesn’t that leave me to be a Tarc prostitute?” Van forced a chuckle, causing a dull ache in her ribs. She knew the joke wasn’t funny. She was trying to conceal the sinking feeling that her time in the Living World had almost run out.

  The thundering of horses’ hooves stampeding toward the camp stopped their conversation cold. The Tarcs leaped to attention, drawing their weapons.

  Sleek black horses broke from the trees, with riders dressed in black. They wore the royal crest.

  “Daisy,” murmured Brux.

  My father! Van thought, for the same reason Brux hoped his sister might be there. If a royal squadron had ventured into this area, it was probably Solana’s crew after the Coin. Which would include both Van’s father and possibly Daisy—if her father had kept Daisy with him, despite her not being the Anchoress heir.

  The black riders drew their swords.

  The Tarcs fought back.

  Van didn’t know which were the better fighters, and because of the balaclavas, she couldn’t tell which was her father, if any.

  Brux dashed through the fight, heading toward the woods that the soldiers had come from. He hoped to find his sister, perhaps hidden nearby.

  Paley and Elmot already had grabbed some backpacks and sprinted away.

  “Being caught won’t help anyone—c’mon!” Jorie cried, as she heaved her backpack. She turned to follow Elmot and Paley.

  Instinctively, Van wanted to run while they had the chance. Yet instead she darted the other way, after Brux.

  Jorie stopped running and called ahead, “Elmot! Paley! Keep going.” She turned and glanced at Van and Brux. “Dammit!” She changed direction and headed after them.

  Brux had dodged a sword wielded by one of the black riders. “Where’s my sister? Where’s Daisy?” Brux grabbed at the leg of the rider, who kicked out, sending Brux sprawling.

  “Brux!” Van screamed, still too far away to help him.

  The black rider couldn’t use his sword to reach Brux on the ground, so he slid a dagger from his belt and raised his arm, poised to hurl a fatal blow at Brux.

  Van halted before the black rider and asked, “D-Dad?”

  He paused, startled.

  With a swoosh, Zachery landed squarely in the black rider’s chest. He screeched and fell from his horse.

  “Thanks!” Brux, said, as he scrambled to stand.

  Jorie bent over the body, pulled Zache
ry from the dead man’s chest, and then lifted his balaclava. “It’s not your father, Van.”

  “I know that! He’s much too small,” snapped Van. “I said it to distract him from killing Brux!”

  “Nice work,” Jorie grunted.

  Brux smiled proudly at Van, then asked Jorie, “Where’d you find Zachery?”

  “On the ground,” Jorie answered. “Next to a dead Tarc.”

  “I’ve got to find Daisy,” Brux said. He twisted away from them, about to run into the woods in the same direction where the squadron had emerged.

  Jorie grabbed his sleeve. “Brux, you’re gonna get us all killed,” she warned.

  Two Balish soldiers caught sight of the trio. They pulled the reins on their horses and headed straight for them.

  “Move it!” Jorie growled.

  Van knew they couldn’t outrun soldiers on horseback. They were as good as dead. But they ran like hell trying to escape anyway.

  As the two soldiers closed in on them, a poleax flew through the air and almost severed the shoulder of one rider. Several Tarcs on allocameli rushed to attack the soldiers, who stopped their pursuit of Van, Jorie, and Brux to face battle with the oncoming Tarcs.

  The trio raced off, as the black riders continued their clash with the Tarcs.

  When they caught up to Elmot and Paley, Elmot said, “I guess that’s what the Tarcs get for breaking the rules by eating buffalroo.”

  “I don’t think that’s what’s going on, Elmot,” Jorie said dismissively. “There’s some kind of military play by Solana going on here. Tarcs and Balish are supposed to be allies.”

  Once they had successfully escaped the Tarcs and the Balish soldiers, they slowed their pace.

  “My holographic map is gone!” Elmot moaned, as he rummaged through his backpack.

  “We left ours behind,” Van said to Brux.

  “It’s okay,” Brux replied. “Better to have escaped with our lives than our backpacks.”

  “I brought yours,” Paley said, pulling Van’s backpack from underneath her own.

  In the rush, Van hadn’t noticed Paley carrying two packs. “Thanks!” Van said, beaming, as she took her backpack from Paley. “That was really cool of you.”

  “The Tarcs didn’t confiscate the map Van gave me, the one of the north!” Elmot exclaimed, pulling out a folded parchment. “That, along with my keen ability to use the constellations for navigation, will get us to the Caves. Thank the Light.”

  As Elmot consulted his map, Jorie made a figure eight over her chest and mumbled, “Thank-the Light-and-all-that-is-good.” He directed them back toward the Caves of Wolfenden.

  Van was drained from the draw of the Gemstones, more than ever. She felt relieved when dusk set in and Jorie ordered them to make camp.

  Now without tents, they slept out in the open on the snowy ground. Van lay in her sleeping bag, staring at the three-quarter moon and the twinkling dots in the sky. The stars reminded her of Wiglaf’s tiny paws flashing in the dark as he walked in a circle on her backpack back in her quarters at Uxa’s house, and her heart wrenched. She was so fatigued, her body ached all over. She hoped Wiglaf would appear during the night and make her feel better. She wanted to care where Brux was sleeping but felt too exhausted. Her eyelids grew heavy and closed out the starry night.

  The next morning dragged on, with the grandfather clock ticking in Van’s head, as the team continued the long journey to the Caves of Wolfenden.

  By late afternoon, Elmot announced that the Caves were only a couple of hours ahead. Though glad they’d finally almost reached their destination, Van tensed in anticipation of what lay ahead there.

  She silently reviewed what she had learned about how to get the Coin. It was guarded by the Elemental Loka, who had laid traps throughout a labyrinth of tunnels. There, a terrible monster roamed, ready to kill anyone who trespassed. Van didn’t feel overly worried about the Elemental and the traps. However, the monster concerned her. She didn’t know what kind of terrifying creature lay in wait for them, but if it was worse than the trolls and the Tarcs, she didn’t feel confident they could defeat it.

  Their trail abruptly ended at the edge of an enormous canyon. A flimsy bridge stretched before them. The aged, weathered wooden slat walkway had thick rope handles. The drop below made Van queasy.

  “Uh . . . you go first,” Paley said to anyone.

  “We’re lucky the bridge is here,” Elmot stated. “Otherwise, it would take us three more days of travel.”

  Van felt grateful and terrified at the same time.

  Brux glanced at Van. “Are you going to faint again?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  “Don’t look down,” Brux said. “No worries, okay?”

  His advice didn’t help. Van remained petrified.

  Paley clutched onto Brux’s elbow. “Let’s cross together, Brux. You’ll keep me safe.”

  Van replaced her fear with resentment. How could Paley continue to flirt with Brux, knowing that Van had feelings for him? They weren’t officially together, but still, there was something going on between them.

  “Can’t,” Jorie said. She took several cautious steps onto the planks. “It’s not strong enough to support both of you at the same time.”

  “We can’t risk it,” Brux said, detaching Paley from his arm. “Sorry, Paley.”

  Jorie went first. “Don’t follow until I’m halfway across,” she said, bravely inching her way onto the rickety bridge.

  Van crossed her fingers and envisioned Trey’s spirit watching over them, helping them safely cross. It made her feel better.

  Elmot went next, followed by Brux.

  “I’m going next,” Paley said to Van, cutting in front of her.

  Van felt her stomach lurch when Paley’s sudden move pushed her close to the cliff’s drop‑off. Doesn’t Paley care if I fall over the side? Paley’s actions—cutting her off, flirting with Brux—proved that she didn’t value their friendship. Even after everything Van had done for her over the years. I took Paley into my life as if she were family, and she pays me back by not caring whether I live or die?

  Fueled by fury, Van stomped onto the bridge before Paley was halfway across.

  “You’re too close,” Jorie hollered. “Go back!”

  “Van, the bridge is rotted,” Brux cried. “It can’t support the weight of both of you!”

  Van ignored them, assuming they were overreacting. The bridge seemed sturdy enough to support both of their light bodies, and she needed to have words with Paley. The planks wobbled under her feet. She desperately grasped the rope railing. If Paley could do it, so could she.

  “Don’t look down. Don’t look down,” Van chanted under her breath, as she regained her balance.

  Paley turned, facing Van’s direction. “Van, you idiot! Go back!”

  How dare Paley call me an idiot! Van thought. Who does she think she is? “No! You go back!” Van yelled, knowing her statement made no sense. “You’re pathetic, chasing after Brux like a fool!”

  Paley edged her way back toward Van. “No! You’re the pathetic one, always taking, never giving back! You don’t appreciate anything!”

  The others screamed, “Spread out!”

  “Shut up!” Paley yelled back to the others on the landing. “Together, we don’t even weigh as much as one of you!”

  The bridge swayed, and Van’s head spun. She clutched the handrails in a death grip. A terrifying crack filled the cavern, as a rotted slat collapsed beneath her foot.

  As the planks supporting Van’s weight gave way, Paley blanched and quickly dashed back toward her teammates.

  Van screamed, as her body dropped, then jerked. Her backpack had caught on the edge of a broken plank, stopping her descent.

  She swayed, dangling precariously, frantically grasping for a secure slat that was less than an inch out of reach.

  “Van!” Brux screamed. He brushed past Paley, as she made her way to safety, and stumbled along the bridge as it swayed and
creaked.

  “Brux, no!” Jorie yelled. She knelt on the ground at the end of the bridge and hastily rummaged through her backpack for a coil of rope. “First rule in an emergency is keep yourself safe! Let me tie you to the rope!”

  He paid no attention and continued working his way toward Van.

  Crrrrrack!

  One of the planks gave out under Brux’s foot.

  Van’s stomach knotted, as she watched him regain his balance. The planks supporting her creaked. She slipped lower.

  “Help!” she cried hysterically. Her legs thrashed about in her futile attempt to gain footing.

  Jorie moved tentatively onto the bridge, grasping the rope, as Elmot and Paley watched, wide-eyed, gripping each other for support.

  “Hurry,” Van whimpered. The plank wouldn’t hold her much longer.

  Brux was only feet away when a strained creak came from the ropes suspending the bridge.

  It sent chills down Van’s spine.

  Jorie stopped a quarter of the way onto the bridge and shrieked, “Brux! There’s too much weight! Came back and grab the rope!”

  “Brux,” Van said calmly, resigned to her imminent death. “Go back. The bridge, it’s going to collapse.”

  “Not a chance!” He inched closer to Van, knelt down, and grabbed the shoulder of her jacket. “I got you.”

  As Brux lifted Van onto the slats, the bridge groaned.

  A deafening screech reverberated throughout the chasm. The bridge shuddered. The rope handrails untwined around them, unable to bear their weight.

  Van gripped a plank to save herself, as the support ropes let go, and the bridge split in two.

  They plummeted.

  Van hung tightly to the planks, as she swung in a wide arc toward the stone cavern wall.

  Brux didn’t have time to grab hold and tumbled past her.

  Van smacked the side of the cavern several times, knocking her breath away, and nearly lost her grip. All she could think of was Brux. Through her peripheral vision, she saw a bulky object whizz by and feared it might be Jorie—but it was only Jorie’s backpack, which she’d left too close to the edge of the bridge.