“Stop!” he commands.
All we hear is that rumbling noise, no, a growl. Getting louder. Fiercer.
“We’re not too deep into the forest. We’ll be fine,” I whisper-shout to Lyle, while cursing my confidence.
“You think you can outrun a Jarkoreth? The minute you run, they’ll chase, and they won’t wait to distinguish friend or foe,” Kalan chastises me.
I think back to what the one I encountered said—that his brothers wouldn’t wait to hear my reason or intent, but that doesn’t apply to Kalan, surely. He’s a Shepherd.
“So we stay still? Can you talk it down? The forest knows we mean no harm, right?”
The growl turns to a snarl, and it conjures the memory of the Jarkoreth’s huge maw, hunched back, and talons.
Thundering footsteps beat a terrifying rhythm as I translate the sound into a vision in the dark.
“No. We mean no harm.” Kalan’s voice is sure and loud, rivalling that of the Jarkoreth’s snarl.
A deafening roar shakes the leaves around us, and I fight the instinct to cower.
Suddenly, I’m back in the woods in Nehandun, walking through the darkness before I see Fenix through the trees.
Shadows and darkness play tricks on my vision, and it’s only Lyle next to me that stops me from casting out a ribbon of darkness to hide us—to hide from Fenix.
Breathe. He’s not here.
Lyle is my lifeline, and I concentrate on her, on this moment, and not on what happened in that wood.
I reach, fumbling through the darkness until my fingers clamp around her hand. I imagine the light, her magic, which she used to protect me with, and as if answering my call, a trickle of energy wraps around my wrist where we’re connected, and a hum of magic travels through me. A ball of glowing light appears in my free hand, illuminating the dark.
But my gratitude is short-lived.
A few feet in front of us, Kalan stands, his arm outstretched in front of a huge monster, all sharp points and menace.
This beast is similar to the Jarkoreth I raised from the ground. I can see the familiar hump of the back, but it’s much, much bigger. The jaws that were terrifying before are deadly, with huge teeth that promise only death.
With everything in me, I focus on staying calm, and I urge my magic to stay calm and not riot or betray me and cause panic.
“You are… new. You are… different.” Its voice echoes around the trees as it turns its gaze on me. Two moonlight eyes stare right at me, as if reading my intent.
“I am a Fifth. Aslendrix has blessed me with her magic. I mean you no harm.” My voice quivers as I focus on the words, as I urge the creature to believe me.
“We hear. We listen. Unrest follows you.” The condemnation is thick in the air, as if every living thing in the forest hears and now waits for my answer.
“She means no harm. We only want safe passage.” Kalan draws its attention.
“A steep price, Shepherd,” it drawls. “You have been gone an age.”
“Maybe. But my oath still stands.” He flexes his palm, and again, it reminds me of what I did with the Jarkoreth at the trial. I held my hand out and let it sense me.
Only this one looks far more deadly, if that were possible.
“Ever, I don’t like this,” Lyle whispers.
“Kalan’s got this.” I squeeze her hand, and the beacon of light in my other palm glows a little harder.
The Jarkoreth steps closer, the weight of his clawed foot shuddering the ground around us. The creature I disturbed from its rest was wounded, decaying, and had to claw itself toward me with its arm. I don’t know which is worse.
It breathes in, rustling everything around us, before sending up another cry.
