Chapter 27

"Put me down."

He doesn't listen.

"Put. Me. Down."

I'm hanging over Acker's shoulder like a child. This gets added to my list of least favorite ways to wake up.

I don't want to tell him, but…

"You have vomit on your shirt."

"I'm more than aware," he says, stepping over an uprooted tree.

The ground tunnels in and out of focus with the movement, and I'm grateful there's nothing else left in my stomach. I lift the material, inspecting the knife wound on his side. No longer open and discolored, the area appears healed, but the skin is mangled.

He shudders from the touch. "Stop it."

I drop the material. "It's your fault for forcing me to eat the plant of nightmares."

The dream lingers in the back of my mind. I was being chased by a giant bear with glowing red eyes and claws the length of my arms dragging the ground, which continued to shift and move like the ocean. If it's a memory from my past, it's not one I'm eager to get back.

"You can't hold me against my will," I say, putting as much conviction into my voice I can muster.

I can feel more than hear his huff of annoyance before he shifts my weight off his shoulder and I'm flipped upright. My legs give out from under me, and Acker lifts me up from under my arms to steady me.

He gives me a look. "That's what I thought." This time he cradles me against his chest when he picks me back up.

"It's been three days," I say, head bobbing against his chest as he walks. "You said the awakening would have passed by now."

"Four days," he corrects me. "It's been four days."

"Four?"

"You've been in and out. At first I thought it was the saigon root, like you'd had an adverse reaction of some sort, but you shouldn't still be in this much pain."

He looks down at me in his arms, worry etched around the lines of his eyes. He doesn't need to say it for me to know something isn't right. I feel it, inside me where the magic lives. It's made itself small, like it's hiding. From what, I'm not sure. It's almost as if it's…

Scared.

"A band of rebels have picked up our trail. Blue has kept an eye on their movements, but it's sporadic. I've been trying to shake them off the past two days without much luck. Every time I lose them, they backtrack to pick up our scent again."

"How many men?"

"The last Blue reported was twelve, but that's assuming we can trust a bird's ability to count."

Despite my extra weight, Acker stalks through the woods on sure footing, quiet but strategic as he avoids twigs and wet ground. He's been doing this for days with no sleep, and it hasn't deterred him in the slightest. It magnifies how useless I am, literal dead weight in his arms .

And I threw up on him.

We're on a slight decline as Acker marches downhill. The forest floor is littered with a carpet of dead leaves, but tufts of vibrant green peek through the layers, moss and fawns and leafy bushes.

We were taught about the land in Alaha—what each part of the continent's ecosystem consists of and where the native plants and animals live and thrive, which are poisonous and which are edible—but seeing the illustrations in a book is nothing in comparison to real life. The sounds and smells and sensations, birds and fresh blooms and humidity. There's a desperate sort of urge to fall to the ground and dig my fingers into the soil and feel the very essence of the earth in my hands.

Acker comes to a halt.

"Wha—"

He shushes me.

Head cocked to the side, he's…sensing something, I realize. Then he begins walking in a new direction. I can't tell if we're going toward or away from something until there's a break in the trees up ahead and I hear it—running water.

We emerge onto an embankment of rock with a rushing stream flowing before us. We're in a gorge, snowcapped mountains visible between the treetops in the distance, so far away they're hazy around the edges. There's a bend in the stream going the opposite direction.

I gauge the safety of crossing the rushing water. It's white and foaming, angry looking. I have no reference for how dangerous the current is, but it may be the only chance we have of shaking the people off our tails.

Flying in from above, Blue comes into view, black and rainbow feathers reflecting in the sun as he lands on a rock beside us.

"Any change in their movements?" Acker asks. He speaks as if the bird understands every word out of his mouth.

Blue shakes his head, feathers puffing out before settling again.

"How many?"

He clicks his beak…ten times.

"Down by two now," I say, getting the gist of their communication.

"They could have split to follow a false trail I planted."

We turn to look at the foamy water. I don't have the strength to make it, and I don't think Acker can carry me without the water taking us under. He twists the hand I have my legs draped over, fingers pointing toward the opposite bank, eyes searching for something.

No , feeling for something.

I'm not sure what until I see the specks of tiny rocks ascending from the river. Acker points his fingers down the embankment, rattling a few as he passes over them with his magic. He's searching for any rock laden with heavy metals.

He looks at me. "Can you hold on to me if I put you on my back?"

I nod. Even if I can't, I will. There's no other option.

I wrap my arms and legs around him, and he grabs me under each of my knees and shifts me higher on his back. Then, widening his stance, he stretches out his hands toward the river.

Palms upright, he pulls, fingers curling in. It takes a moment, but then I see them. My breath catches at the sight of shards of rock and raw metals arising from the water. Some as small as a pebble and some as large as a coconut, they glint in the afternoon sun.

Veins bulge up Acker's arms as he concentrates. As if pulled by an invisible hand, the sediment converges into a floating bridge before us. Acker keeps one hand before him to maintain the structure, the other under my knee, and places his first foot onto the bridge. Freezing cold water splashes at his feet, the bridge dipping slightly under his weight, but Acker doesn't stop. One foot in front of the other, we cross the angry rapids until we reach the opposite embankment.

Acker drops his hand and the bridge falls, causing a rain of rocks to disappear under the white rapids, leaving not a trace of our path behind.

Acker's chest rises and falls, concentrated effort releasing along with the tension in his muscles. "Are you okay?"

I'm shaking from the energy it takes to maintain a hold around him, sweat coating my skin. "Yes," I reply, in awe.

"Good." He returns his grip to the back of my legs and holds me against him. "We need to put distance between us and here, so I'm going to move quickly."

It's the only warning I get before he takes off in a jog through the trees. He runs until the sunlight begins to fade, and I lose my fight for consciousness not long after.