Page 44 of On Burning Paths

Each time the lightning strikes, diverting to the lightning rod at the last second, it seems to come with more ferocity and anger. I wonder if Valtor is cursing somewhere above us, royally pissed off that some little berserker managed to out-wit him in his own game.

Even through the din of my worry and fear, thinking about Valtor’s anger makes me almost smug. After what happened with my mother, I buried my hatred for the god, focused on my life, but I won’t miss an opportunity to relish his defeat.

Finally, after several heart-wrenching bouts of running and stopping, Thorian finally hits solid ground, crossing over to the other side. The bridge rocks violently in the wind, and strikes of lightning batter the makeshift rod, as though in protest, but it’s too late. He’s made it!

Fuck you, Valtor!

It’s only when Talon shifts on his feet, guiding me toward the start of the bridge, that my relief from seeing Thorian make it safely across dissipates, because now it’s my turn.

Shit. How am I going to do this?

“You can do this,” Talon says, as if reading my thoughts. He squeezes my shoulder and leans down, just brushing his lips over my cheek. “Just listen to the berserker.”

When he steps back, Fenric throws his arms around me, holding me tight. Despite the rain and the icy wind whipping around us, he’s warm, and having his arms around me is like pulling a blanket from a basket by the fire.

I breathe in his scent, that scorched earth, clean smell, and pull back. Fenric holds me for a second, his green eyes on mine. In them, I can see the weight of the responsibility he carries. Not just with his family, but right now, to keep me safe.

“You have to go,” he says, his voice rough, his gaze averted from mine. “Or I think I might not let you.”

Reluctantly, I pull away from his embrace, heart breaking.

I wish I’d met them in some other circumstance. I wish I could revel in the thing forming between us without having to worry for my life. But this is where I am, and I need to focus.

Lining up at the start of the bridge, I stare ahead at the long, tenuous path that lies before me. It’s a simple bridge constructed of wood planks and metal chains, looped together and sagging over a massive canyon. Even from here, and even through the rain, I can make out the glint of the metal weapons lying below.

“Go!”

I’m so caught up in studying the bridge that I forget what we’re doing until Fenric’s voice bellows through the roar of the storm. The wind is calm, the lightning done striking at the rod, and I fight through a beat of hesitation before launching out onto the bridge, trying to run the way I saw Thorian do.

Instantly, I slip on the wood and fall.

“Nyx!” Talon and Fenric cry out at the same time. I’m on my stomach for a moment, the air knocked out of me, my hands wrapped in a death grip around the thin chain “rails.” After a second, gasping, I manage to struggle to my feet.

“Stay down!” Fenric bellows. “The wind is⁠—”

But before he can finish that sentence, the wind makes itself known, blowing against me like a tidal wave. Screaming, I wrap my arms around the chains, trying to anchor myself like Thorian had.

The metal rips against my skin. The painful wind projects the rain into my face like gravel spit from the back of a horse’s foot. I hold on as hard as I can, bleeding and crying and desperately trying to make it through.

When I close my eyes, I see the bottom of the canyon. I can feel the crunch of my bones, the pain through my spine. I wonder how long I’ll live. How long I’ll suffer.

I sob against the wood as another torrent of wind tosses me around, and my hands begin to slip on the metal.

“No!”

I hear her voice as clearly as anything, and it breaks through the sorrow, the pain, the fear clouding my judgment. This time, behind my closed eyes, I see only my sister.

“You can do it, Nyx,” she says, her hands on my shoulders, her expression insistent. “You’re strong.”

And just like that, the wind stops.

My ears ring, but I still manage to hear Fenric screaming for me to get up, to run while I have a chance. My entire body feels numb, but I do what he says, rising shakily to my feet.

I don’t move as fast as Thorian, but I force myself to pick up the pace, sliding my bleeding hands along the chains, muscles twitching with readiness.

This time, I don’t trip. When Fenric yells for me to stop and hold on, I’m ready. I drop down, winding the chains around myself, breathing through the panic and terror. Wishing I had powers like Thorian to help me now.

Well, I do. Don’t I?