Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(19)
“Where is that perfume coming from?” Jasminda asked, glancing around.
“Sweet Sovereign’s slumber,” he said under his breath. “Cover your nose and mouth! Quick!”
Jasminda’s brow furrowed, but his frantic words had the desired effect. She wrapped a scarf over the lower half of her face as Jack pulled a rag down from a peg and did the same. The rag smelled strongly of kerosene, but he ignored it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he pulled her away from the barn.
“Palmsalt.”
She froze, her eyes wide, then turned and ran back toward the barn.
“Jasminda!”
“The goats,” she called over her shoulder. Jack rushed after her.
The dead soldiers must have had palmsalt in quite a large quantity among their things, and it was now burning and spreading through the air. The possibility had never crossed Jack’s mind. This was technically peacetime and the substance had only one use. The mineral was mined in Lagrimar and found alongside their iron deposits. Once ground into a powder, it was added to grenades and bombs that, when ignited, created a cloying, sweet aroma that many found pleasant. Right up until their lungs shut down.
The gas would spread quickly, and if they breathed much more of it, they would soon be dead. As would the goats Jasminda was shoving noisily out of the barn and into the night.
“We need to go,” he said, grabbing her arm. She gave one of the little beasts a kick to the backside, then nodded and followed him out.
He tried to inhale as little as possible, but breathing was a sad necessity. His movements were far slower than he would’ve liked, and the wind was changing, the breeze bringing more of the gas their way.
He limped along, matching her swift pace as best he could down a path through the expansive gardens. She dashed off to retrieve a thick branch from beneath a tree and handed it to him. He accepted the walking stick gratefully. His shoulder and abdomen were ablaze with pain, each breath a struggle. But each breath no longer held the nauseating mix of oil and palmsalt.
They had walked nearly a thousand metres. “I think we are clear of the gas,” he said.
She shook her head in disagreement. “I’m singing a barrier for us, just around our heads. The palmsalt is spreading through the valley. Bloody wind. We’ll have to get to higher ground.”
He hadn’t felt the telltale murmur of Earthsong. Then again, she wasn’t directly affecting his body. The mountain was clearly still in the throes of the storm, thick clouds churning out snow at higher elevations. He silently prayed to the Queen Who Sleeps for protection on the journey.
“Will the goats fare well?” he asked.
“They’re quick. And too stubborn to die.” Her voice cracked, belying her stony countenance. Earlier tears had dried, streaking her cheeks—her red-rimmed eyes had turned cold and determined. A bruise marred the side of her face, but it looked like war paint, further accentuating her competence.
She held a shotgun in one hand and a lantern in the other, with the sack containing the items saved from the house draped across her back. Though he’d protested, she would not let him carry anything, giving a pointed look to his limping legs when he had tried to insist.
“I’m not an invalid.”
Her arched eyebrow contradicted him. “Focus on staying upright, and I’ll do the rest.”
She winced a bit from some injury she wouldn’t acknowledge, but overall, she was in far better shape than he. Common sense told him she was right to insist, but his pride stung.
“Are we going through the tunnels?” he asked as they neared the path that would take them into the maelstrom.
“We’ll see.” She pursed her lips, avoiding his gaze. She was hiding something, some additional anxiety she refused to let him in on. He received only silence in answer to his questions, so he saved his breath for the moment.
As they walked, the moon peeked out from the overhead clouds, brightening the way out of the valley and up the path leading into the mountains. Though the valley was calm, the storm still raging ahead worried him. As the path rose, the temperature fell drastically and the ground changed from grassy, to dirt covered, to snow covered. Each torturous step brought not only a deepening of the snow but an increase in his pain.
Jasminda led the way, the light from her lantern reflecting off the snow, now knee-deep but swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. He leaned heavily on the walking stick as each step became more difficult than the last. Pausing to catch his breath, a coughing fit struck him, leaving red splatters on the pristine white.
When he straightened, he found her staring at the blood on the ground. Almost immediately, the warm hum of Earthsong rippled through him.
“Save it,” he advised. “I’m all right.”
She scowled. “You are not all right. You are worse than when you arrived. Stop being such a fool.” The buzz of Earthsong continued for a few moments before she turned and stomped away.
For hours, they battled the storm, their progress arduous. Strong gusts of wind blew against them, sometimes knocking them on their backs and forcing them to stop until the gale calmed some. Icy blasts whipped through Jack’s coat, freezing his fingers until he could no longer grip the walking stick and had to leave it behind.
“Let’s stop here for a moment,” Jasminda shouted, pointing to a notch in the rock wall just big enough for two people. Underneath the rocky overhang, the snow stood only ankle high, and the sidewalls protected them from the worst of the wind. They crouched down together, shaking from the cold. She took his hands in hers and rubbed, bringing some feeling back into them. In the flickering lantern light, worry etched a frown on her face.