Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,79

by myself. He had already lost so many soldiers and friends in trying to beat this blight, I didn’t want him to have to go through that again.

I was protecting him and his men, or that’s what I tried to tell myself.

Pulling the spindle out of my pocket, I tied one end of the golden string to a thick branch of evergreen.

“Ready, Basa?” I called out to the basajaun. He seemed keen on his new nickname. “You don’t have to come with me.”

From the shadows of the forest, the basajaun came out to stand by my side. My faithful companion, he kind of reminded me of farmer Brighton’s old sheepdog.

His determination was strong, and I was grateful for his loyalty to me.

“Okay, let’s go.” I waved my hand onward and approached the first thicket of thorns. I held the spindle out in front of me, and the thorns retreated, slithering and slinking away from the spindle. Unwinding the golden thread as we walked, we made it twenty feet before they moved in again, closing around us.

I let out a deep breath and swung the spindle in another direction and watched the thorns withdraw, as if it sensed the power within the spindle I held. Every twenty feet, I would wrap the string around a solid branch and continue our trek.

Basa let out a warning, and I turned as a sneaky branch tried to reach for me. I released my staff with the click of a button and whacked at the branch, and it retreated into the brush.

“Thanks,” I breathed out. The thorns may not have been poisonous to me, but it didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous.

Basa’s thoughts were silent. He had a soothing, calming way about him. The two of us worked through the maze of thorns, a few times accidentally doubling back and crossing my own string.

“Well, that’s the wrong way.” I made the course change and headed back, trying to work my way north. The spindle hummed, and I watched as the golden string pulsed when I held it in a certain direction. “There. We must be getting close.”

Our pace picked up, and I used the spindle like a compass, its golden thread pulsing faster, the spindle itself forcing the other thorns back. Until the spindle shook right out of my hands and I dropped it.

The attack was immediate and came from all sides.

Thwack! Thwack!

I swatted them away with my staff, but there were too many. Basa used his axe to clear a path while I blocked the attacks from our rear. We had made it to a clearing, and the thorns didn’t seem as thick, or as mobile.

“This is crazy,” I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow. “How much farther?”

Basa pointed up the mountain. From this distance, the palace was just a speck, but it was built into a cliff, hundreds of feet above us. The thorns inched their way up the side, but were unable to breach the mountain wall over forty or fifty feet.

“They’ve reached their limit and connection to the ley line. What’s below us is stone, not earth,” I said, feeling relieved. “Which means we’re close to the source.”

With renewed determination, I set out toward the thicket, hoping to fight and retrace my steps to get my spindle. A stabbing pain radiated from my ankle as a stray branch wrapped around my right foot. With its quick tug, I fell backward, and my head connected to the hard packed earth. Stars filed my vision, and the impact momentarily stunned me.

Rolling over, I dug my fingers into the earth as the vines dragged me along the ground.

“Basa,” I screamed, and the basajaun ran after me. He lunged, the great golden beast flying in the air, his thick hand reaching for me. I grasped his finger, and then it slipped from mine as I was yanked deep into a deadly thicket and out of his reach.

Basa’s roar filled the air as I was pulled down a hole into darkness, deep into the earth.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I landed with a thud on cold, dark soil. The hole I fell through was quickly covered by thorns, and the sunlight choked out so only the smallest ray remained. The dust particles dancing in the beam like miniscule fairies fluttering about was the only beautiful thing about the dark pit.

“You’re strong,” a voice whispered to me from the darkness. “I can feel power running through your veins.”

The breathiness of the speaker made it impossible to tell if they were