The Fragile Tower - Book 1 of the No.1 magical fantasy series

The Fragile Tower Chapter 14 - The Travelling

They left the hut an hour after sunrise. Now that they had some kind of plan, Grace had been adamant that they leave within the hour, and that she felt fine. Afi had told her, with folded arms, that she wasn't going anywhere until she could stand and walk without coming close to blacking out. After a heated argument, Afi had won the day by walking out of the hut with her coat and boots whilst she had been trying to get shakily to her feet.

Grace had sat back down, both angry and secretly relieved. Once Afi returned without her clothes, an irritating half-smile on his face, she'd grudgingly accepted two pieces of bread and what looked like a chicken leg that he drew out of the sack and handed to her. She was halfway through them in seconds, and the meat tasted wonderful.

"This is delicious," she had said, through a mouthful. "What is it?"

"Oh, just chimri leg," he told her, crouched to mix more tea.

Grace stopped eating, appalled. Afi turned to see her face and started laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. It's mattin leg."

Grace swallowed, scowling at him. "Let me guess. It's a cute little fluffy thing that looks like a puppy."

"It's a particularly dim-witted bird that runs towards any lights it sees," he said, still smiling. "Honestly, you feel like hunting them is doing them some sort of favour."

"OK," she said, and then added, "if you keep playing on my ignorance, I'm going to get mad. And you don't want to see me mad."

"I think I saw earlier," he said, "with the big guy and the kick to the groin." He shook his head. "I don't think I'll risk it."

Grace had tried to pretend that she wasn't quite pleased by this, and reached out to pick up the book. For the next three hours, she fought to stay awake while she read, mouthing the names of the creatures and spells and symbols it held in an attempt to remember them. The more she read, the more she felt a depressed admiration at the creativity of these cold mages. Evanescents, nightmares, dusk-walkers... They were impressively imaginative in the ways they found to terrify and to hurt.

When dawn eventually came, she felt drained and shivery, but she stood anyway, and proved to Afi that she could walk around quite competently. He responded with a grudging nod, and went to fetch her clothes from wherever he had stashed them.

The walk to the bridge took them half an hour when it should have taken no more than ten minutes. Grace was stiff, sore and still a little dizzy. She stumbled more than she should have done, and she was painfully aware of how often Afi had to stop and wait for her even when she was moving as fast as her legs could manage.

He said nothing until they made it to the bridge, and when he waited it was with none of the impatience she thought he should feel. But she saw his expression grow more and more concerned, and he called a halt for her to lean on the rail over the white waters.

Grace was breathing heavily, and she felt almost as wretched as she'd felt when she'd woken up the night before. She folded her arms over the railing and closed her eyes, seeing those grainy patterns again behind her eyelids. She was shocked to find that she was fighting to stay awake, and without the thundering of the water, she might have fallen asleep where she was.

"How far is it to the road?" she asked.

"Three miles," he said, and she didn't need to look at him to work out that he was worried about that. "We might find someone to carry us with them when we get there, but..."

The thought of having to walk the whole distance, some nine miles, made her want to lie down and give up right there.

Come on, Grace, she said to herself. He's alone, and afraid, and maybe losing his mind already. You just need to put one foot in front of the other.