26. Into the Fire

And then I heard it. Through the wind… Drums.

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: Attacked in the dark, our hero and his companions help a farmer and his children flee from danger. Wendell is wounded, and the party makes a hasty retreat into the wilderness.

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Life’s trials can often blind us and become unbearable. It may even seem at times that there is no hope for us.

But that’s the lie. There’s always hope.

It just might not come in the form you imagined.

Evan’s anger and determination were little match for the fury of the storm. He waded through snow, which had grown to mid calf. With his arms tightly folded around his chest, the lead rope hung loosely over his shoulder as he guided the stallion forward. I followed close behind in the stallions tracks, tugging on the mares rope. She didn’t want to be here either.

I had no idea how much time had passed since we first entered the storm. Everything was white. Blurry. Even the trees, full of brilliant color hours ago, were now hidden under sheets of ice.

“WE CAN’T KEEP GOING!” Evan shouted, but I could barely hear him. The stallion was covered in a heavy layer of frost, and carried what looked to be three white cocoons. Evan stumbled back to the horse and tried desperately to brush the snow from his siblings.

I trudged up behind him.

“WE’RE GOING TO DIE OUT HERE!” the blacksmith yelled, holding his folded arm up as a shield from the wind. He swayed in place, and finally had to reach out to steady himself against the horse. We had no idea where we were going…and no way to tell where we were. We were counting on Evan’s faint memory of traveling to Woodside. 

As for me, I kept my head down and tried to look cold.

I felt helpless, watching the frozen blacksmith sway in exhaustion. Blue skin, purple lips, ready to fall. What could I do? As cold as it was, the wind and the snow had little effect upon me. My mägoweave protected me from the elements.

Mägoweave.

“TAKE OFF YOUR TUNIC!” I yelled into the wind.

Evan stood there, struggling to keep his legs locked.

I wasn’t sure he had even heard him, so I reached out and grabbed the frozen blacksmiths tunic and pulled him closer, shaking the fist full of leather. “TAKE THIS OFF!” I shouted again.

“ARE…YOU…INSANE!?” Evan cried back. He started to turn away.

Grabbing his tunic, I pulled him back and leaned in close. “MY SHIRT IS MAGIC. IT’S MADE TO KEEP YOU WARM — PUT IT ON!”

Evan’s face wasn’t just blue, it looked painful. Ice hanging from his hair, nose, and eyelashes. He shook his head. “GIVE IT TO ONE OF THEM!”

“NO,” I insisted, “YOU NEED TO LEAD US — WE NEED YOU ALIVE…OR WE ALL DIE!”

There was glimmer of understanding in his face, but then he frowned. “WHAT ABOUT YOU?”

That…was a good question. Honestly, I could only guess. I had no clue how the magic cloth worked, or whether it would work at all on someone else. What I did know, was that Ithari would do all she could to sustain me. That meant it was worth a try. “I’LL BE FINE,” I shouted back, “JUST TRADE ME!”