Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Even though I’m on my butt, at times I can see into the massive courtyard. There are people in black military-like uniforms down there, looking like ants on the ground. This adds another layer of fun to my icy excursion. And by fun, I mean stress.
My stomach gurgles. Is it still morning? I should’ve searched for a kitchen to grab some meal bars. My arms are growing weak.
This was so much easier in the dream. I had that strange floaty quality, like I could fly. And the way down was so smooth. Warmer, and the dragon was waiting for me in the cave.
The wind has surged. Now I’m buffeted on all sides. Snowflakes swirl around me, frosting my face. My muscles are stiff. I want to rest, but if I don’t keep moving, I’m going to freeze to the stone.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
I pull myself along, inch by inch. The metal cuffs I’m wearing clink against the stone. I can't get them off, dammit. I tried clawing them off, but they’re seamlessly welded together around my wrists.
If I can get out of here, I can find someone to get them off.
I need to keep going.
I’m trying to catch my breath when a gust tries to pull me over the side. My shout is swallowed by the whistling wind.
I give in, and I lie down fully, army crawling across the icy stone. Another blast like that could push me off this ledge. If it blew to the left, I’d fall into the courtyard, shattering every bone I have. To the right, and I’ll fall not just several stories down a castle wall but another several thousand feet down a rocky cliff.
After what feels like ten hours later and a few fearful slips that take years off my life, the mists part ahead of me to reveal the end of the ledge and castle wall. In my dream I somehow danced down the rampart all the way to the ground. I peek over the low wall. The ground is so far down, clouds drift between me and the snowy ground. Not going down that way.
In despair, I crawl forward a little more and come to an open hole. Flecks of snow are falling into the opening, onto the stairs. A stairwell!
I'm in some sort of outer keep that's no longer attached to the main, more modernized part of the castle.
I scramble to lower myself down. This wasn't in the dream, but this makes it easy doesn't it?
Voices echo nearby. I freeze, but my foot hits a step, and the stone crumbles underneath.
Maybe not so easy after all.
It takes a year for the voices to move away. Another century for me to peel my aching, freezing, filthy self off one ancient step and lower myself to the next. The only sound is my stifled breathing and the clink of my gold cuffs against the stone. My hands are stiff with the cold.
A cold light leads me to an open door frame. A pristine plume of snow has blown in a few feet. I cup some in my hands and give myself a freezing drink. Keeping out of the wind, I creep to the stone-framed opening and look out.
I did it. I’ve reached the ground. I’m at the base of the castle. But there’s no cave of wonders nor dragon waiting for me outside. Of course, there isn’t. It was just a vision. Some kind of metaphor. There’s nothing but a huge snow-covered rock where the mouth of the cave was in my dreams, with smaller piles of rocks and snowdrifts around it. A couple hundred feet of boulders and the ground slopes, becoming the sheer face of the mountain. If I'm going to escape, I’m going to have to find a path down the mountain.
I could just sit here and hope a rescue comes, but it’s pretty unlikely. My friends won’t know I’m missing until they can’t get a hold of me for weeks. Meanwhile, Gabriel is video monitoring their home and every move.
I have to escape. To get free and to warn them.
Behind me, a man calls to another, their voices muffled by the wind and stone.
I duck out of the doorway, and the cuffs around my wrists start beeping.
Shit!
I scramble over the boulders. I have to get away or someone’s going to hear and start looking for me.
I clamber over the boulders as quickly as I can. Once I’m out of sight of the doorway, I drop down and hug an icy rock. My wrist cuffs have stopped beeping, and no one’s shouting as they come after me, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come.
I try to shift my weight and inch backward. One boulder foothold at a time.
The snow’s stopped, and the clouds have cleared, leaving a hazy sun filling the day with anemic light. I can’t feel my hands. My pants are heavy with filthy ice. My legs and arms are shaking. Cold sweat plasters all my layers to my clammy skin. The coat and the layers I’m bundled in keep me warm, but the tips of my ears are freezing.