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“Not a problem,” he says, still turned around.
I put on leggings and a loose shirt, then say, “I’m ready.”
Marlak turns. I realize he has changed his clothes as well, and is now wearing a dark navy shirt. I’m surprised he’s wearing any color other than black, wondering if perhaps he’s run out of clean black shirts.
“Great,” he says, and the boat moves even closer to the sandy bank of the river. He passes me Dusklight and its scabbard. “Take your sword. We can walk from here.”
I strap the sword to my back, hold my boots and socks, and take a wide jump, so that my leggings don’t get wet, but then my feet sink in the sand.
Marlak lands in front of me, displaying his control of air magic. I wonder if I could do something like that if I trained, if I got another taste of his blood. I don’t know why I’m thinking about it.
“Let’s go,” he says, then gives me some bread. “We’ll see her first, then we can go to a village near here and have an early lunch. You must be starving.”
I nod. The bread is stiff and rubbery, but I eat it. Oh, how I miss Nelsin’s and Ferer’s food. I want to slap my past self who was disappointed because they never served anything hot. At least it was delicious.
I swallow the last piece and ask, “Who’s she?”
“An old… creature. Not a fae.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Some call her the nameless.”
I chuckle. “Eerie.”
“Wait till you see her.”
“Is this meant to be encouraging? Or do you want me to beg you to turn around and just ignore the dreams?”
He snorts. “Please. You’ve faced death bees and bloodpuppets. You’ve faced me without a hint of fear.”
“Oh, you’re a monster now?”
Tilting his head, he runs a hand through his curls. “Excessive magic can be frightening. For most people.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“I know.” He stares at me, something intense stirring in his eyes. “And the nameless won’t scare you either.”
The trees in this forest have wide trunks draped in vines and other foliage, while the ground is covered in roots, moss, and shrubs, making it hard to walk through.
Marlak steps in front of me and reaches out his hand, which I take. It feels natural, not strange to hold hands with him, and I feel a wave of comfort moving up my arm.
We walk in line like that for a long time, the only sound our feet moving between leaves, birds chirping and warbling above us, and something else, like a powerful hum coming from the forest; its breath and life.
After some time, we reach a clearing with an old stone well in its middle. I’m dreading having to go down in it, but all he does is sit on its stone wall and put a finger on his lips. I sit beside him, missing having our hands connected, wondering if this nameless creature is really going to break our connection.
As much as I’m already missing the dreams, perhaps getting rid of them will help me understand my feelings. My feelings. All I know is that I want to reach out and hold his hand again.
Then I recall my recent nightmare and the terror I felt, the feeling that something was wrong.
Perhaps we shouldn’t be here.
I’m about to suggest we turn back when a strong gust of wind hits my face. It’s magic, but feels foreign, strange.
I guess we’ll find out if being here is a mistake.
25
