Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“This isn’t working,” Nylian continued.
“No shit, Sherlock!” I screamed. My lungs were burning, and the chill that had been pricking my skin minutes ago was long gone as sweat trickled along the side of my face and spine.
“Who?”
Fuck. “Never mind. I’m open to suggestions.”
Anything was going to sound good right about now. I was running out of steam. This body might be in better shape than my original one, but its energy wasn’t limitless. Not after the long day I’d put in.
But Nylian didn’t answer. Most of the ogres had tired of chasing me. Only two remained to corral me, since they’d likely figured out I wasn’t leaving Nylian behind. The other four were now closing in on Nylian, and that wasn’t working for me.
With a snarl through clenched teeth, I darted for the campfire and snagged a log that was partially burning. Fire grazed my hand, and I swore under my breath as I chucked the log at an ogre’s head. It hit him square in the back and exploded in a shower of bright-orange embers like a firework bursting in the middle of our camp.
Naturally, the hot ash went straight for my eyes. I stumbled blindly, trying to keep moving as I wiped at my face to clear my vision. The acrid scent of smoke filled my nose. I didn’t know if an ogre had hit me or if I’d walked into another tree. Either way, pain exploded across my head and the world went dark…again.
“Lockhart? Lockhart? I swear to the gods, if you’re dead, I will reach into the underworld and kill you a second time.”
That was how I returned to consciousness—Nylian hissing in my ear, threatening my life while my head throbbed as though it were splitting in half.
Well, it answered one question: did I get zapped home?
Nope. Still in this fictional world with fictional creatures trying to kill me.
“What happened?” I half whispered and half moaned.
“You knocked yourself out again,” Nylian muttered, though I believed there was a slight note of relief in his voice too. Of course, I could have been lying to myself as well.
“I did not!” I hissed.
“You did. I saw it. You got ash in your eyes, blindly dodged two ogres grabbing for you, tripped over a rock, and hit a tree with your forehead.”
Which would explain why the middle of my head hurt so fucking bad.
“After that, I threw up my hands and surrendered,” Nylian said.
I opened my mouth to point out that he could have escaped on his own, but for reasons I couldn’t understand, he’d stuck with me.
I squeezed my eyes shut as guilt swamped me. “Sorry.”
It wasn’t just my life I was constantly fucking up but Nylian’s as well. The elf had enough on his plate. He didn’t need my help to find more danger.
A long, weary sigh slipped out of Nylian. There was a soft shifting in the dirt, as if he were changing his position. “Don’t. We were fucked from the start. I should have heard them coming far earlier than I did. I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.”
“Mn,” I grunted. “Singing and playing the piano wouldn’t have worked for a distraction, either.”
The elf snorted what could have been a laugh. “Probably not. Ogres aren’t known for their taste in entertainment.”
I tried sitting up so I could better see Nylian, but I quickly discovered that our captors had tied my legs together and bound my wrists behind my back. Using the toes of my boots, I rolled a bit onto my side to find that we weren’t in our camp any longer but possibly near the mouth of a cave. Gone was the soft grass. Now we were lying on dirt and rocks while the scent of rotting carcasses wafted on the breeze.
“Where are we?”
“Not entirely sure. They knocked me out as well. My guess is that they’ve taken us deeper into the forest. Ogres aren’t fond of daylight, so the cave is likely their home.”
I twisted as best I could to check out my surroundings while ignoring the way small rocks dug into various parts of my body. Nylian was sitting up next to me, also bound, as he leaned on a large boulder. His golden hair was still perfect, and there was a tiny smudge of dirt across one pale cheek.
Meanwhile, I was pretty sure my hair was a twisted rat’s nest and the rest of me was a ball of dirt and sweat. Nylian’s general perfection was either an elf thing or a Nylian thing. I was still figuring out which it was. Either way, I kind of hated him.
Maybe it was that “hero halo” that I’d heard about in some books, where the hero was untouchable and when things went wrong for him, it resulted in things going even more right for him later.