Those had gone to the flames, too, but it was a different kind of fear that sent them there.
Ainsworth supposed that was it, then. The end of it. Surely, surely if they had something worth saving, Enach would have reached out by now? And surely Ainsworth wouldn’t be throwing his feelings into the flames?
“Actually…” Ainsworth said quietly. “Maybe I don’t have anyone anymore.”
Ashe finished her cake. “Seems to me that unless you had someone say they’d wait for you back home, you’re under no obligations.” A moment passed. “And…You are so much happier now, Ainsworth. You were insufferable when I first met you. At first I thought it was because you were a snob, but I think you were just unhappy.”
Each word was like an opening of his wounds that had managed to scab over but remained unhealed. “Goodness. Thank you for your honesty, I suppose.”
“Well, the way I see it, it isn’t the rest of us making you as happy as that little bag of cakes there.”
Ainsworth let her words sit for a moment. “Actually, the rest of you do make me happy.”
He wasn’t sure she had heard, for he had made his voice as small as it could go. But when she silently shifted into a mountain cat to do one last patrol of their surroundings before bed, she briefly brushed her head against his knee in passing.
Chapter 20
On the sixth dayof their expedition (each day seemingly rainier than the last), Ainsworth found the final spot he had marked on the map. “Hoorah!” he exclaimed, dumping his pack on the damp earth and seeking the nearest flat, slatelike rock to sketch the ward upon. It was the second ward placed on the lower slopes of Mount Vengeance, and Ainsworth could not help but feel a rekindled longing for Honey’s company. They were not so far from their usual excursions, and Ainsworth knew that when he and Ashe eventually joined that route to head back toward the Misnich Inn, he’d feel her absence even more keenly.
Not that he didn’t enjoy Ashe’s company, despite her constant gibes at his expense.
“This is it, then? It’s about time,” said Ashe, panting slightly. Ainsworth suspected the shielding spell she was exerting over the both of them had taken its toll after all these days. “This spell had better work after all this effort.”
She had so far resisted the urge to wildeshift that morning, which Ainsworth took to mean she was conserving energy. To his surprise, she had shared some insight into her ability these past few days—such as the enormous amount of energy consumed as she channeled the magic required for each shifting. Those with mastery over magic (sorcerers like Enach) suggested that the more you used it and practiced accessing it, the more you built up stamina and aptitude for it.Ainsworth had never had the patience to try to build up any kind of strength himself, but he could not help but think of Ashe standing day after day outside the inn, exerting her magic against the elements and felling beasts as they came her way.
Six days of being outside in the rain had nearly undone him—though fortunately it had not affected his wards.
When he had started placing the first one in a heavy mist, Ashe had asked: “Can you draw the ward when it’s damp?”
“Well, yes,” Ainsworth had said. “Once it’s done, it is resistant to the elements until I cast the spell, but the rain makes it more difficult for me to visually spot any hints of magic at work elsewhere.” He had so far found no signs of magical tampering, much to his dismay—but there was still the spell.
“Oh, it will work,” he now said, consulting the map to confirm his final destination. “With this ward, I will create a large magical barrier that encompasses a significant amount of land before reaching the inn. If any spells are targeting the inn, my spell will detect them.”
“Seems like a flimsy spell, and you’re quite a rudimentary magic-user. We also haven’t walked around the whole mountain. What if—”
“You’re distracting me!” he said, kneeling on the ground. Yes, perfect. This spot would do. “It isnota flimsy spell, and I may be poor at using magic in general, but I have taken the steps to mitigate that.” He reached for his pack, grabbing for the pouch of red, seunore-infused chalk he needed to bind the magic to his ward. He felt a pang of guilt as he used it, thinking of Bren’s tale and the Skarrow Institution’s heavy use of the material.
Ashe’s cynicism also stung a bit, but Ainsworth trusted his own instincts. Of course he was not exploring the entire mountain, nor peering within every nook and cranny and crevice. But if a spell was being directed toward the Misnich Inn, it would have left a few telltale signs. And if the caster—or indeed the dragon—was implementing other magic to cover their tracks, then the spell he was setting up would ring through his senses and alert him tosomethingmagical manifesting over the inn. That would make for an exciting new thread to follow indeed.
Certainly one that would require he lengthen his stay at the Misnich Inn for further study.
He found his hand trembled slightly as he slid his chalk-coated finger across the slate to complete the ward. He was almost finished when—
“ ’Ware!” Ashe cried as a high-pitched snarl came from the rock by his foot.
Before the wildeshifter could reach him, a small set of jaws clamped down on his ankle. Ainsworth twisted and yelped, spotting the furious, furry gnycht attached to his foot. He reached for the scruff of its neck in a panic, remembering something his father had said about them not being able to turn around and bite you if you caught them there. Sometimes they had strayed from the depths of the forest near his childhood home.
It swiped its little blue claws into his ankle as he hissed against the pain and reached for a handful of fur. “Don’t pull it off!” Ashe warned, now towering over him. She looked frustrated; they had let their guard down after being unbothered for the past few days. Unless—
Ah.
“I think I trampled one of its nests; look,” Ainsworth gasped, pointing at what looked like a gnycht’s hard-won collection of foliage lying in a crumbled heap in front of the entrance to a small cluster of rocks. The gnycht reminded him somewhat of a mole in its coloring, but it was the size of a hare, it had the mouth of a canine, and its teeth and claws were infused with—
Ashe, in a brief flash of light, transformed into a rangy-looking bird of prey. A few flaps and a cry had the gnycht frantically unclamping its jaws and scurrying toward its rock shelter once again—though not before Ashe scooped it up in her claws and flew into the sky, hopefully to drop the little blighter far, far away.
Ainsworth knew he had to move quickly before the beast’s dark magic truly set in. He cringed as he felt the throbbing of his leg andwatched the blackness begin to ascend up his shin. He tried not to panic as he rummaged in his pack for his salve.
Beasts of dark magic, such as gnychts, typically brought down their prey with an essence of decomposition that was secreted from glands in their mouth and around their claws. The salve would help disinfect the wound, and Ainsworth hoped his druid heritage would slow things down—but what he needed was Ashe’s inherent wildeshifter connection to life and nature to expel the, well,deathfrom the wound.
