Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 22 - Leavi

He laughs, a harsh, mocking noise. "Any farther out, Riveirre? You realize we left the High Valleys over a week ago? You make it sound like we passed up the corner store."

"We didn't 'leave,' Sean. They"—I point at the group—"tricked us into coming here. We have to tell them to take us back, get us to Xela, like we agreed on in the first place."

"Simple as that?" His eyebrow creeps up.

"Yes, Sean, simple as that." I cross my arms. Suddenly unable to meet his gaze, I look off at the horizon.

He sighs. "They're not going to do that."

"They might! You're the magic-man, the guy who's going to abracadabra a curse on anyone who doesn't do what you say. Can't you use that?"

"Oh, come on, Riveirre. You know that's not how it works."

"And why not?" I demand.

He shakes his head and leans against the tree, hands tucked in his pockets. His gaze is fixed on the Traders as they pitch their tents. Close by, one group of children huddle near a fire, fighting off the damp chill the rain left behind.

"They were brave," he says, "or desperate enough to drag us out here in the first place. They only fear what I might do, but they knew what was going to happen if they stayed in the mountains. They're not going back any time soon."

I swallow, wrapping my arms around myself. "You said they'd drop us off at Xela."

"I thought they would. They were going south. Must have taken a different route, something quicker, so they could get out of the mountains faster."

"Then—" My hopes are crumbling faster than I thought possible. The air in my lungs trembles, and angry at myself, I close my eyes to recollect. "Then they can give us a map."

"Do they seem like studied cartographers to you, Riveirre?" He pushes off the tree. "They don't do maps. Why do you think I didn't ask for one before?" His head shakes. "And even if they did give us directions, what do you want to do? Die of starvation as we wander through the wilderness with our non-existent rations? We're a week away from the mountains, not from civilization—that's over a month away, back through all those valley passes and far up the cliffs."

Wind musses my hair, and I rake a hand through the mess, frustrated and desperate. "I just want to go home, Sean!"

"Well, that's nice." He steps forward, lank frame casting me in shadow. "But that's not the reality of the situation. We're here now. We're in the Outerlands. And we're not getting back home anytime soon." His eyes force me to meet their gaze, holding me in their harsh conviction.

My voice threatens to break. "How are you so ready to give up?"

His gaze softens. "I'm not giving up, Riveirre. I'm analyzing our circumstances as honestly as I can. They're running out of food, and they've yet to run into the 'plentiful game' their Ufir promised them. I don't know if you noticed, but more and more people are acting shifty around us. We're a drain on their resources, and they know it. I don't think it's going to be much longer before they say forget the curse and decide to kick us out. Our only chance to make it back to the High Valleys would be sticking out the winter with them, but I doubt we even make it that long. Part of me doubts they will make it that long."

The wind blows across the plain, rippling the grass like a clowder of snow cats creeping through the stalks. The air breaks cool against my skin, and I shiver. "Then what can we do?"

Half-turning, he follows my gaze. He's quiet for a long time. Finally, he answers, "We wait. We see what opportunity allows."

I swallow the mix of emotions threatening to close my throat. My eyes flick up to Sean's. He still stares at the never-ending stretch of land between us and the foreign horizon.