Page 72 of The Arcane God

“Let’s test it then,” Ena offered to Xena, her face a mirror of his sister’s excitement. “You should try to leave without me noticing and see if the mind channel appears, and if it does, use it to…distract me, or whatever.”

“No, no, no,” Turner said vehemently, shaking his head. “She’s gonna use it on me.”

Xena looked over at him, arching her eyebrow. “Are you sure?” she asked silkily, a devious smile forming on her face.

“Yes,” Turner said, his face going slightly red. Was he hot or something? “Of course. It’s safer anyway, with Ena in her current condition. Just in case, you know.”

Ty thought that reasoning was a little flimsy, but Turner seemed determined, and it made no difference to him.

“Alright,” Xena said, holding Turner’s eye contact a few seconds longer than normal.

What the fuck was going on between the two of them? Had they gotten into it or something? Xena could definitely be a rude pain in the ass, but Turner was so friendly, he could usually handle people like that.

“Okay then,” Ena chimed in, breaking their staring contest. “Turner, you organize these cards, and Xena, you see if you can slip out unnoticed while he’s doing that.”

Turner took the crudely made cards from Ena’s hands and started organizing them, but Ty kept his eyes on Xena.

It was clear she was concentrating on Turner—her brow furrowed as her mismatched eyes followed his movements. Suddenly, Turner seemed to become even more engrossed in his task, as if he’d entered a flow state—like Ty often did when he was fighting someone or working in the forge. He was so concentrated on the task, he lost awareness of the world around him, and he didn’t notice when Xena slipped from the tent, a gust of cold air flooding from the entrance at her departure.

“Turner,” Ty prompted, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Huh? Did she try yet?” Turner asked, looking confused before glancing over to where Xena had sat just moments ago. “Oh. Damn, she got me,” he added, smiling widely, looking almost…awed.

Two seconds later, Xena popped her head back in the tent, her normally impassive face alight with curiosity. “Did it work?”

The three of them answered her with satisfied smiles, and Ty felt his heart swell just the tiniest bit with pride.

***

Over the next couple of months, they fell into a routine. Storms would hit, causing them to bide their time in their shelters as best they could, and when they cleared, Ty and the others would go out hunting again—trying desperately to replenish their stores of meat and blood before the next storm. Ty’s venator was coveted, as usual, but he was impressed nonetheless with the stryx’s hunting abilities—and especially their bow design, which was significantly more efficient and deadlier than daemonic bows.

Meanwhile, Ena’s womb continued to grow, and she roped Turner into helping her harvest whatever plants they could find. Between all those efforts, they were able to cobble together a sufficient diet—but it was touch and go sometimes, and Ty worried.

As Max had warned them, game was difficult to find, and keeping up with the stryx’s need for blood was a constant effort. Luckily, Ena only needed his blood, but the rest of the stryx were not so lucky.

Ty and Max had been out on one such fruitless hunt for days when Ty finally broached the sensitive topic.

“Max,” he said, as the two of them walked through a particularly dense part of the forest. The early-dawn light had quickly turned to full day, and Ty knew the herd of elk they’d been following had long since passed through here. He could barely smell them at all.

The older man looked at him, his black eyes filled with worry. “I know. You do not have to say it. We have lost the trail.”

Ty could sense his desperation.

“Are there any other spots we haven’t been to yet? Maybe by a different camp?” he asked.

Max shook his head. “This area is the best this time of year. If this is all there is here…then this is all there is.”

Ty’s heart sank for the stryx. He, Turner, and Ena would probably be okay with the meat they could find, given that the stryx didn’t eat much of it, as long as the storms allowed them to get out and hunt still. But without more blood, the stryx would weaken.

“Where else can your people go? Is there anywhere else?” Ty asked, feeling like he needed to do something to help these people who had been so welcoming to him, Ena, and Turner in their time of need.

“We have tried, as you know, to send others over the Chasm Mountains, to see if it is better there. To see if we would be welcome once more. But this side of it…the storms are everywhere and they are pushing the game out. The game that remains acts strangely—desperate. Has trouble reproducing.”

“How long has it been like this?” Ty asked.

“It has gotten progressively worse since I was born, but the stories that have passed down through generations tell us it started about two centuries ago.”

“Two centuries ago?” Ty echoed, his brow furrowing. “You mean, around the time the daemons were bound to Iblis?”