Uninviting and inhospitable. And the perfect place to hide. My mind races to pull the advantages of the position, and the possible egress points if Crimson needs to get out and get help.
From what I remember of the maps in Father’s office, villages and towns are located in the mid and southern areas of Nehandun because of the mountain range that dominates the north. Dardin is hidden away in the very western edge of the country, secluded and protected by rivers, forests, and the mountains. A fortress, like The Court, in that sense.
Kalan slows when he reaches a wooded area. The shadows of trees stretch out as if inviting us in, but the branches look sick, as if the trees are struggling, gnarled and sparsely leafed. It’s pale and holds none of the majesty of the Variscite Forest, which is lush and green, however deadly it can be at night.
“Last chance. There is no turning back and no opting for another path. Final warning.”
“Crim?”
“Nothing’s changed for me. I doubt it has for you.”
“We’re in. Let’s go.”
“They’ll have spies from here on. They’ll know we’re heading to them. And Fenix has gone to a lot of trouble to reach this point. He won’t let us get to her without a fight.”
“I’m prepared for a fight.” I glance at Crimson because she knows just what that looks like. “We go.”
Kalan nods to both of us and then heads straight for the woods in front of us.
We breach the edge and step under the shade of the first tree, as the smell of rot and decay surrounds us.
“You’re a Natural. Why are the trees like this?” I ask as the smell intensifies as we walk farther.
Crimson raises her arm to cover her mouth and nose, and I do the same.
“You have your boundary to Kirrasia. This is a poor man’s attempt at the same, poisoning the trees to act as guards.” Kalan’s words are bitter and clipped, and I feel his emotion—his hatred—for what is happening around us, even without trying.
A mist rises from our footfalls as we tread farther into the thicket. Kalan might see this as a poor diversion, but I’m thinking it’s pretty fucking effective.
“These trees cannot talk, but they suffer. Even here, I can feel them.”
“Wha—”
Crimson knocks my shoulder and purses her lips at me, complete with a raised finger.Okay.But it’s too late. Kalan has already stopped.
“As neither of you are Naturals, you won’t understand.”
“Try us,” Crimson challenges.
Kalan pauses and looks up through the bony-limbed skeletons to the sky above. “I’ll give you the short version. All Naturals have a strong connection to nature. Aslendrix provides her abilities in forms that ensure protection for all. We draw on the elements around us. The nature we live amongst, our ownselves as Guards, and the ultimate defence in our Warriors. A Natural’s power aligns us with life itself. And we are the only ones to give a part of that back to nature when we pass. As a Shepherd, my connection is strongest with the forest, not just in Kirrasia. I feel them. I hear them. The trees are as ancient as Aslendrix herself. I may not reside in Kirrasia, but that does not mean that my affinity for my gift is any less. Because it takes place outside of our borders, it doesn’t mean that the pain to the trees here is any less abhorrent to me.”
“Are there creatures like the Jarkoreth here? In Nehandun, I mean,” Crimson asks.
“No. They are born of Aslendrix’s magic, an essence of her, at least. Willingly gifted through the Natural Order over hundreds of years. They, with the Sur’gos, are only found in Kirrasia.”
“And do they only answer to Naturals?”
“The Jarkoreth answer to the forest. They protect the forest. But they will answer to Shepherds.”
“It answered to Ever. She raised a Jarkoreth from the dead in the trial. And then killed it.”
That serves to stop Kalan, and I assume he’s surprised by Crimson’s account. He surveys the woods around us as if weighing a decision. “Who witnessed this?”
“I watched her kill it. After it attacked my friend and took a bite at me.” Crimson holds Kalan’s stare, as if she’s daring him to argue. He doesn’t. He gives a one-syllable gruff and carries on through the trees.
“What was that about?” I whisper.
“Seems he might have some information to share. He might not be willing to give you the answers you want, but he for sure knows more than we do.” She raises her arm back over her mouth and follows.
