Infinity Blade 01- Awakening

front?”
    Siris nodded. “And you lead the monster.”
    She obeyed, striking out, horse in tow. Leaving the roadway made the path more difficult. However, the opportunity to put most of the gear on her animal meant that—rougher though the terrain was—he had a much easier time of it. He actually found himself enjoying the walk, particularly as the weather took a pleasantly cool turn.
    Over the next few days, they slowly climbed in elevation, and the furrowed landscape of rocks and cliffs gave way to more greenery. Isa knew a little-used pass through the heights, and they began passing thickets of thin, reedlike growths that climbed high into the air.
    It was bamboo, Siris realized. He’d seen wares crafted from it come through Drem’s Maw, but had never seen the plants alive. It seemed incredible to him that a week or two of walking could change the vegetation so soundly—Isa tried to explain something about a “rain shadow” with the mountains, whatever that meant.
    He kept close watch on her, binding her tightly every night. She submitted wordlessly, though her wrists got rubbed raw, and each morning when she rose her steps were stiff with soreness and cramps caused by the awkward sleeping. When he could, he tied her to a tree instead. That seemed to be slightly more comfortable.
    They didn’t speak much. Not nearly as much as they had on that first day, when he’d still nurtured a glimmer of trust. Siris tried to spend the time thinking about what to do. Unfortunately, he kept thinking of things he wanted to add to his list. That distracted him.
    And so, he decided to try some of them. Isa watched him, baffled one night, as he constructed a rope swing and hung it from a branch, then swung on it.
    “That’s a children’s activity,” she said.
    “Oh?” he said. “Are they the only ones allowed to have fun?”
    His reply seemed to disturb her greatly. That evening, he took down the swing and used the ropes to bind her. Then, in his book, he wrote down rope swings as one of the things he definitely enjoyed.
    They continued their hike. During the traveling, Isa proved her competence on more than one occasion. She always found fresh water for the camp, even when he would have thought it impossible. He tried to learn how she did it, and found himself very satisfied as he learned to spot good campsites.
    A few times, she ranged on ahead, then returned to lead them a different direction. Apparently, these highland hills and valleys were populated with a large number of free daerils that roved in bands. He never caught sight of them, though he and Isa did cross a few old camps and the remnants of the occasional caravan, skeletons peeking through the charred, burned-out remains.
    As they left one such location, he found himself wondering about her motives. Was all of this—the care she took with the camps, the show of protecting him from roving daerils—just an act? Like her laughter had been on that first day, her wry friendliness? Could guiding him be a long-term attempt to get him to let his guard down?
    Would he go to sleep one night, then never awake, killed by a hidden dagger?
    Each night, he tied the bonds tightly, hating himself as he did so. Better to hate himself than to die because of another betrayal.
    Siris followed Isa and the horse up the forested hillside. He was surprised the horse could make it up the steep incline; the beast seemed to have less trouble with it than he did. He had to be wary not to get too close, lest the animal drop a gift down at him. He was increasingly certain that it waited until Siris was close to do its business.
    The air was hot and muggy, and the sun was veiled in a sheath of gray clouds. They were coming down out of the hills, leaving the pass behind them. If anything, the land here was even more lush than before. Enormous forests of bamboo spread like green blankets over the rolling hills. The tall, slender plants were almost like the lawn of some gigantic creature—which made Siris and Isa the insects that prowled among the blades of grass.
    The Infinity Blade hung in its sheath on his back, where he’d moved it after getting it caught repeatedly in the underbrush. He no longer wore the cloak; they hadn’t passed a living soul in days.
    He practically crawled the last steep distance up to the hilltop, pulling on grass slick with dew. The ground here smelled alive. If the people of Drem’s Maw knew that just across those mountains, they’d find this