“Before what?” Tor’en angled his head back, squinting up at Er’it with his lips sucked in between his teeth.
“Just before.” Er’it shoved his way past the dangling canvas of the door and out into the brilliant sunshine that held no warmth for him. An ache he could not and would not acknowledge began building beneath his ribs as he shouted orders at the lingering soldiers to get back to work.
* * *
Dusk descended and threw eerie shadows through the trees, making the cleared brush seem ominous, threatening, as it rustled in a brisk wind that picked up the odd cluster of leaves and earth. Scattering it through the air in a silent wail, ravaged and broken, it beseeched the brightening stars for revenge.
“I am losing my mind,” Er’it hissed as he fell to his knees for what felt like the hundredth time. Clutching the axe handle as it slipped in his clammy grip, he climbed back up and took another swing at the menacing shadow lurking before him. “It’s just a bush, not a spirit.”
They’d gone well into the woods, finding tracks from the bandits’ horses just as the sun kissed the horizon. His men were falling over, weak and exhausted. Having sent the warriors back, only he and Ath’asho remained, Tor’en appearing at intervals to force them to pause and drink if they would not take more rest.
Now he butchered the gnarled shrubs to get at the narrow path the bandit had taken, forever obstructed no matter which way Er’it turned. Every attempt made to go around an obstacle found him faced with ten more. It had to be some kind of magic, but not one familiar to him. Endi, refusing to speak to him, told Tor’en she had no sense of it with what little power she’d regained. It was more than what Er’it dragged from each broken blister, every twisted muscle, but her magic didn’t lie in the earth, so he gave her words little attention. While Tor’en’s drew upon the dark sands of their home, he said this land was strange—twisted and dark, corrupted somehow. Despite the verdant greenery, it felt rank and murky. A swamp hiding quicksand and poison, it refused to be molded, denying Tor’en’s touch, locked away tight behind crusted iron bars.
“Do you remember that dungeon?” Er’it asked between heaving breaths, swiping an arm over his face to clear the salty sting from his eyes.
“I’ll not likely forget it.” Tor’en shuddered, shoving his hands into his sleeves and hunching his shoulders.
“Could it be that?”
“It’s possible, yes. I don’t see how something in Otaso’s castle could reach all the way here, though...”
“You saw the marks on her after I brought her out of there. It did that to her.”
“We’re still days away from there, Er’it. That power would need to be far more powerful than that to stretch across such a vast expanse, an empty void at that.” Tor’en shook his head, his lips pulling down as he peered into the darkness.
Er’it startled when something came crashing through the woods behind them, falling once more, much to his humiliation, when he swung the axe up as a pathetic weapon. Tor’en barked a protest as the bushes rustled and shook, sending the old man leaping through the path of cleared brush. All of them stared in surprise when Kal came swaggering out of the intertwined, thick-as-a-man limbs as if they weren’t even there.
“What in the…?”
Kal snorted and huffed, stamping his front hooves, chiding them all before trotting through the entire shrub Er’it had only made a meager dent in. Prancing around them in a swift circle, he pushed through it all like smoke. Coming back to Er’it, the massive Phylix shoved his nose into Er’it’s chest, pushing him back toward the still clogged path until he tumbled backward into it with arms raised to protect his face from the thorny branches.
Landing with a ragged grunt, air knocked from his lungs, he found himself on the other side of the green wall. Parched laugh scraping through a throat thick with relief, Er’it rested in the cool shadows while Kal made his deep bugles and resonating grumbles in victory.
“Majesty,” Ath’asho called, his voice thundering through the thick tangle of limbs where his body refused to follow.
“I’m well! Hold, Kal will come back and—” Er’it bolted up from the ground, staggering toward a tree before he fell back down. Confusion twisted his features as Kal picked a neat path through the sudden bareness of the forest floor, every tangled vine and twisted limb vanished.
“Majesty? Answer me, Er’it, curse you!”
“I told you I’m well.”
“Where is Kal?”
“He’s right… Kal, come back! You have to help them through, you lumbering dolt.” Er’it pushed off from the tree, jogging after Kal who pretended not to hear him.
Within moments, Er’it became lost. Whatever sense of direction he’d gained through all his years of traveling disappeared within the blink of an eye. Surrounded by blackened branches and looming trees, it was nothing like he’d ever experienced. A man of deserts, gritty sand, howling winds, and the blessing of an oasis, this strange world of trees as big around as Kal’s chest was foreign.
“Kal! Curse you, where have you gone?” Slowing to a walk, Er’it swiveled his head in search of the pale hide between the charcoal shaded sentinels. Their teeming canopy of whispering leaves threw the world into shadows and darkness, the uncertain light ever shifting. A warning shivered up his spine, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Er’it whispered into the encroaching blackness, “Kal, I need you, friend.”
Squinting into the flowing gloom, Er’it felt it. A presence drifted through the trees toward him, snarling and raking the sooty forest floor, snapping a great maw in greedy anticipation. Shivering in the sudden chill, Er’it’s hand went to his side to find the blade there. Gripping its hilt, he knew there would be no magic at his call. Depleted first by Aida’s chaotic plundering and with no rest since, the wellspring of power within him was as dry as his homeland.
The sensation of being watched grew stronger. Eerie yet familiar, it was the same as he’d felt in the dungeon—a vicious thing that tormented a tiny Omega, leaving her with wounds so deep in her flesh only an old, forgotten magic could heal it. Thumb sliding over the gleaming edge of the blade, Er’it murmured a prayer beseeching the Hat’or. His blood dripped down the warming metal in shimmering threads only to spatter dead and lifeless on the forest duff crushed under his feet.
Cloud bright and floating through the darkness, Kal thundered toward Er’it, braying and rumbling. His hooves kicked up the fetid ground in rank clumps to explode into the air. Coat shimmering with a light all its own, the Phylix stormed through the narrow space between Er’it and the trees, large teeth snapping, rending the sooty shadows. Shredding the night, he trumpeted it down around their heads.
Then he stood, sides heaving with hoarse bellows of air he sucked in with lips curled back, showing the glistening whites of his fangs to the remaining murky twilight dwindling back through the trees. It left the forest dim but not bathed in pitch, letting Er’it see the twisted, gnarled branches soaring over them, all of them reaching with ugly fingers and ill-spotted greenery. There was no trace of the lush and verdant land they had crossed through until now.
“Shall our debt be repaid, then?” Er’it asked Kal, knees loose as relief swam through him. Leaning into the still tense Phylix to rub his cheek against Kal’s velvety shoulder, Er’it’s laugh was little more than a ragged croak when Kal huffed a sigh in reply.
