Chapter 60
I must admit that the forest of Sijar was quite a scary place. Arriving at midnight certainly didn’t help its cause.
Wherever my flame illuminated, all I could see were armies and legions of insects.
Bugs and eerie creatures that crawled or flew—or both—giving me the chilliest creeps.
Not to mention the sticky spiderwebs that clung to my skin and clothes, and the invisible birds that made noises that sounded more like crying babies or screeching cats than anything else.
Hairs on the back of my neck often bristled, and my heart fluttered at every sound.
“Oh, come on, I can sound much scarier than that,” Marshen teased, mimicking the sound of the haunting birds so very close to my ear.
“Stop that! You’re creeping me out,” I exclaimed.
“Stop that! You’re creeping me out,” he mimicked. My eyes widened.
“I do not sound like that!”
“You sound exactly like that. My ability is very accurate.”
“So your sound effects are not limited to roaring panthers and Daekon-possessed birds?”
“They’re not. I can mimic any animal sound and voice.”
“That’s strangely impressive. Can you do Feder?”
Marshen’s lips curved upwards and he shook his head left to right. “May I interest you in one of these leather journals, perhaps?”
“Oh!” My hands went to my mouth and I barked out a laugh. “Now do Macy.”
“No, Marshen, the portrait’s not ready yet. A perfect face like yours requires time to capture its striking features.”
I gave him a grand eye roll before we burst into another laugh.
“Would you like me to do Aegir’s now?” Marshen asked, nudging me with a teasing elbow.
“Do you know who Alarik is?”
“I do. It’s kind of hard to mimic that one…oh, you’re telling me to shut up.”
“No, I’m telling you that if one word comes out of your mouth in Aegir’s voice, I swear to the gods, Marshen, I will chop off your fucking—”
Marshen’s eyes grew wide. “All right, all right. Yeesh, Delia. I was only joking.” He matched my quickened pace. “What happened to that guy’s tongue, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
We decided to pull an all-nighter. We had rested well on our way here, and we both preferred to keep trekking north.
Marshen had never been to the south region of Sijar, and so when dawn came, we had to rely on the sun, my compass, the directions given to us by fellow cartway passengers, and a questionable map that Marshen had sneaked from the ticket stall.
By nightfall, we were still in the midst of a thick forest, careful where to place our feet. The fog that crept around our legs concealed the thick roots and vines that covered the damp and mossy ground.
We were hoping to reach a village soon. We needed food, water, shelter, and horses.
We found none of that, unfortunately, and so we were compelled to seek shelter in this life-infested forest, high up in the trees.
I knew the shawl would prove to be a good purchase.
I wrapped it around my head, covering my nose, my ears, and my mouth, in fear of curious insects. I shivered at the thought.
My exhaustion was just as heavy as the fog around us, and so I found myself drifting in and out of sleep. I was shaken awake. Marshen rumbled into my face, “Get up. I can scent people.”
I untied myself and took Marshen’s hand as he helped me climb down the tree.
“Should we follow them?” I whispered.
“Yes, let’s get our eyes on them first, then we can—”
A windy hiss cut through the air, followed by a sharp thunk. Our gazes shifted. I know that sound. Just as I suspected, an arrow was buried in the tree trunk, inches away from my head. The same tree we had been resting on.
Marshen did not have to whisper the word “run.” We had already thrown ourselves into a sprint.
Marshen was much faster than me, of course.
He was Fae after all—I was the weaker species.
But I hung in there, falling short only by a few feet.
I stayed as close to him as possible, for he was the only source of guidance to my human eyes in this gloomy forest.
Then we soared into the starry night sky, both of us surging in what felt like a net. Traps. My stomach plummeted. I looked down, only to find us hanging very high above ground. The sight was both dizzying and nauseating. The trees, I noticed, appeared taller than ever when looked at upside down.
This is not happening! We’re hanging near godsdamned treetops!
I gripped the net’s webbing between my fingers, getting the feel that the ropes were made from roots and vines. I hoped they would hold.
In the dark silence, the floor crunched and twigs snapped, until four figures unveiled themselves from beneath the foliage—so far away beneath us.
At first, I wasn’t sure if it was the gloomy night that made their skin appear dark…
but then I realised. We were still in Myrkvein after all.
Those were Strongmen. And they weren’t called Strongmen for nothing.
They were basically an upgraded version of humans—bigger and thrice as strong.
My mind riffled through creative thoughts of escape but I came up short. The only way out of this net was to either burn it down or cut it loose, and both methods led to us dying. So I found myself looking at Marshen with pleading eyes. “Shit! What are we going to do?”
“Well, now we hope that they don’t cut that rope over there. Do you see it? If they cut that one, we’ll fall to our deaths.”
“How fucking helpful,” I spat. I looked down. “Hey! Let us down, let’s talk!” I yelled.
“We’re just passing by. We mean no threat,” Marshen shouted.
They did not reply to our futile pleas. They did not even look our way. They just stood there discussing something that was obviously us.
After what felt like forever, one of the Strongmen approached the rope—the same rope Marshen had pointed at—and my heart leapt.
“Oh no,” I squealed. “We’re going to die.”
The rope, however, was not cut or let go of, but was loosened slowly. Thank the gods.
They were lowering us down. Not they—one of them was lowering both of us down. Strongman indeed.
I regained my balance the second my feet touched the ground. My hand went to my side in reach of my dagger.
“Ah-ah!” the one pointing an arrow at my head warned. “Hands up.”
The one that lowered us—the bigger one with a shaved head—disarmed me in seconds. “Hands out.”
My brow knitted when he handed me a rope through the net’s webbing. “Tie him up.”
“What?” I almost whispered.
“You, turn around,” he ordered Marshen. Then he looked my way. “You, tie him up.”
I reluctantly obeyed.
As soon as the net fell around our feet, the one still pointing the arrow at me moved close. “Hands up,” he ordered once more.
“What are you—”
Big One tied the ends of Marshen’s rope, once around my waist and twice around my wrists. We were not getting out of this.
“What are—”
“Walk,” Arrow ordered, nudging his bow.
“Where are you taking us?” I demanded, with a raw and desperate throat.
“Move.”
“We were just passing by, we’re heading north. Please let us go.”
“Shut up, or I’ll tie your tongue next. Either you move or I’ll pull you, it’s your choice.”
Oh, lovely, I have a choice in something.
I moved. Marshen had no choice but to follow. We were forced to walk for long minutes, hours perhaps.
It was silent, other than the crunching terrain beneath us and the nocturnal birds hidden somewhere in the trees that surrounded us. I wished one of them were Eldric, coming to our rescue.
“Should we wake her tonight?” I overheard Tall One ask.
Wake who, exactly?
“We can keep them in the pit until tomorrow,” Arrow replied.
The pit? What in the names of the gods is to happen to us?
“No, we’ll wake her,” Big One asserted. “Especially because of his type.”
“Head forward!” Arrow bellowed the second I tried to glance at Marshen over my shoulder.
It was already exhausting, walking towards the unknown tied to another person, but the elevated terrain along a narrow valley made it even harder. We finally reached the peak. It overlooked an open spread of grass.
“Move.”
I could make out the shadows of small wooden huts built all over the rolling stretch. The lack of burning candles told me the people who resided there were sleeping.
As soon as I got the urge to shout for help, Arrow warned, “A sound comes out of your mouth and I swear I’ll let go of the arrow.” It angered me, the way he threatened me using my favourite weapon.
We were dragged around what looked like a small village, a settlement, which I imagined would look beautiful in the morning. The landscape was hilly, and the homes were all scattered around at different heights.
One of the buildings stood out, a two-storey cottage. Flowers—what colour they were I couldn’t tell at night—adorned its front, and plenty of trees surrounded its wooden fenced perimeter. We moved towards it.
The Strongmen led us into a small entryway, and we were ordered to stand with our backs against the wall.
“Go wake her,” Big One ordered to Young One.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Go.”
Then I heard a woman’s voice. “Aegir? My dear, is that you?”