Repairer of the Breach (Stones of Fire Book 4) by Sarah Ashwood (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

Then I checked the slice above his ankle. It still seeped dark blue blood, but not like before. I hoped that was a good sign.

The next order of business was to see what my visitor had left. I knew I couldn’t have hallucinated the entire thing. There was the stone he’d melted with the tip of his staff into an old-fashioned clay jug with a long neck and, next to it, a plain wooden chest. Also, in my ears rang his message that my help was in the hills; that I should lift my eyes to the hills for help.

“What hills?” I wondered aloud, my gaze sweeping the area.

Incredibly—or not so incredibly, if my strange visitor had something to do with it—the thick fog wreathing the forest had lifted. The distant shapes were recognizable now as trees and undergrowth. Beyond the forest, I could finally see what I hadn’t been able to see before. A hill, rising like a backdrop above the tree line, and on the crest of the gentle slope, a city. A city with stone walls. Peeking over the edge of the walls were the tops of the buildings. Architecture certainly wasn’t my specialty, but what I glimpsed resembled ancient Greece or Rome.

Atlantis?

My mind whirled, trying desperately to accept this twist.

Atlantis. Shapeshifters. Portals. Magic stones. Magical fire. How the crap did this happen?

I looked down at the inanimate bronze man beside me. I didn’t know if he could hear, but I spoke to him, anyway.

“Carter,” I said. “I have to go find you some help. The visitor—shifter—whatever it was—told me to find help in the city, so I have to go there. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll try to hurry. Please hang on till I get back. Please…”

My throat tightened, choking off words. The idea of Carter dying alone while I was gone was horrific. The idea of being in this strange place without him was terrible too.

“Just—just hang on till I get back,” I pleaded.

Bending, I pressed a kiss to his cold cheek before I got back on my feet. My gaze lighted on the jug, the box the visitor had left. What had he told me? That there was strength there for me? Cautiously, I picked up the jug, sniffed at it. I couldn’t discern any particular smell, but I could hear the liquid sloshing around. Did I dare?

I couldn’t see that I had a choice. I was hungry, chilled, and thirsty. I had no idea if the water framing the beach was drinkable. And if my visitor had wanted to hurt me, he could’ve killed me outright instead of leaving poisoned food.

That decided it. I tipped the jug back and drank. The fluid flowed down my throat like liquid velvet: smooth, warming, soft. It tasted like wine. It warmed me within and without, cleared my head, invigorated me. Since that had gone well I decided to check the contents of the box next. I lifted the lid. Inside was a loaf of bread. I tore off a piece and held it to my face, sniffed it and gingerly licked the edge to taste it before popping it in my mouth.

It was mild, sweet. Familiar. Like honey.

A growing awareness, an inkling of what was going on permeated my consciousness.

Many of these elements were vaguely familiar. Could it be my strange visitor hadn’t been a shifter at all? Could it have been…

No.

I shook my head.

It couldn’t have been.

But what if it was? my mind protested. What if—what if it was an angel? Is that even possible?

Honestly, that idea defied belief even more than shapeshifters, portals, and portals to ancient worlds. The notion that an angelic being had been sent to minister to me, to help me. That I’d truly had a supernatural visitor. Who was I? I wasn’t anybody. Why would I merit treatment like that?

It’s probably not you, I reasoned. It’s probably because you’re helping Carter and you’re the only help he has. The creature—angel—shifter—whatever it was—kept calling Carter the Repairer of the Breach and intimating that he had an important job to do. Maybe your job is to help him with his.

Whatever the case, special callings and manna and heavenly beings aside, I had to move and act. I couldn’t sit on the beach any longer waiting for further assistance. I’d been told my help was coming from the hills. On the hill was a city. I forced myself to walk away, leaving the box and jug beside the Talos’ hand, in case he awakened and needed it.

I was weaponless and basically defenseless as I fought my way through the forest again. Also, my feet, ankles, and calves were sliced and bleeding, but my heart felt lighter with hope. I had no clue what I was getting myself into; I had no clue what I would do when I actually reached the city, but I knew I would somehow find what Carter and I both needed.

When I finally broke through on the opposite side of the forest, I was gazing at the hillslope. A steep set of stairs crawled up one side, leading to a set of gates. On the other, a paved road switched backed and forth. Allowing, I supposed, for animals and wheeled vehicles, whereas the stone steps must have been intended for foot traffic. Since the steps would get me there faster I took them and started climbing.

As I climbed, so did my anxiety, replacing the hope. I knew help was supposed to be here, but what if danger was, as well? Danger like more shapeshifters? Or people who would wield magic, throw it around in sizzling balls that burst on impact like in movies? Really, what was I going to do if the people—or creatures—here weren’t friendly? I didn’t have a gun. I wasn’t exactly trained in hand-to-hand combat. I didn’t even have a knife.

It’ll be okay, I reassured myself, my breath shortening with the steepness and length of the climb. It’s going to be