The Monarch | ✓

Chapter XI

Weeks passed.

Malia didn't want to wait any longer.

"We have to find him," Malia marched up to Victor in the Guard Den.

"We already rode out to see Oliver at the border," Victor said, narrowing his eyes in the sunlight. "We asked him to keep an eye out for Elias but he hasn't heard anything."

"We're going after him," Isabelle ignored him.

"I'm coming too," Malia said, firmly.

Victor sighed. It was no use arguing with her.

As they had done with Elias, Victor and Isabelle followed Malia, trotting beside her in the wider areas of the forest. This time Malia had not forgotten her sword. She would be able to protect herself, if the need arose.

They rode in silence but when she reached the area where they had found King Roman, she felt a need to stop and pay her respects. They had ridden in the opposite direction from Elias, thinking that it was more likely that he found trouble in Phelmor or Zhamdir than in Wathora. The people of Wathora were amiable, as long as they felt like they weren't in danger. Malia felt the same way.

The crossing from Phelmor to Zhamdir was quiet.

"Isabelle, I want to check the clearing to the left," Malia called out behind her and rode her horse in the direction of a campfire. If someone had been living in the open land, they must have seen Elias or what had happened to him. She must be getting closer to his location and she forged ahead without taking notice of her surroundings.

"Malia, wait." Isabelle called behind her, but it was too late.

Malia's horse skidded down the landslide, and Isabelle and Victor were left at the top of the hill. The horse had regained balance and Malia clutched on the reins with her life, not wanting to bucked off into the rocky terrain.

When they reached the bottom, Malia started inspecting the areas. It looked like a crater. Malia couldn't understand why anyone would want to live in such a secluded area, away from the safety of the kingdom.

"Isabelle?" she called upwards, into the sky.

She could no longer see the top of the hill or hear her companions' voices.

"Victor?" she called again.

There was no response.

Either they couldn't hear her or they were looking for an alternate route they could pass through with their horses. Malia started exploring the large area while she waited, there was no chance of climbing and escaping on her own. The landslide was much too steep.

Malia tied her horse to a branch hanging low in the dirt of the crater and the horse sat down. She looked around for water but there was none. The horse would just have to rest. She patted Gladis, smoothing her hand down the horse's neck. Miraculously, she seemed to be unharmed but was shaken from the fall.

"It's alright," Malia breathed, calming herself as well as the horse. The horse gave a soft nicker in response.

She skimmed her hand along the edges of the walls of dirt and gravel. The dirt was firm, as hard as cement, and there was no place for her to hold on to. She continued skimming along the border, looking for any evidence of the smoke she had seen earlier.

There was no evidence it had existed at all.

Malia peered out into the distance, trying to spot a trace.

Nothing.

Did she imagine the sight?

Halfway around the edge, Malia felt a soft spot in the soil. She poked at the hole, and the dirt gathered along her feet. She picked up the remnants of a branch on the ground. She poked harder and harder at the dirt until it started to crumble.