Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FOX
The fire that crackled and flickered in the middle of their circle made the darkness of the surrounding forest all the deeper. Fox had hoped he’d feel more at home within the trees after his time with Sofia, but the forest was cold without her—the shadows more haunting.
They’d been walking for days with little incident, save for the constant current of unease that permeated the entire army.
Even now, with a small group of them sitting at one of the many fires scattered around the camp, they kept their voices hushed, as if they knew something might be listening just behind the ferns.
Their group was a random assortment of men from the second and fifth.
They passed around a bottle of Terdunic whisky, bonding over the burning warmth of the drink and their aching feet.
“Fox has seen the thing.” Nesto’s voice broke Fox out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the rest of the group looking at him. Some faces held open curiosity, but Immanuel and Jordi both sneered with open skepticism.
“Didn’t you get promoted to junior major just a few days before coming on this mission?
” Jordi questioned, his eyes sweeping across Fox as if any of them looked sharp in their sweat-soaked and muddy uniforms. They’d bathed in the cenotes when they could, but it had been too cold at night to risk washing their clothes. “How did you get to see the dragon?”
“You all act like we haven’t been marching beside the creature for the last few days,” Fox said, refusing the bait. He’d avoided the hot-blooded soldier for two nights, but against his better judgment, he’d joined their group when the whisky had been opened, like a faery to blood.
“Doesn’t mean we’ve seen it,” Nico said from beside Nesto. “I carried the damned thing for two hours yesterday and I still didn’t get a glimpse under the blanket.”
The dragon’s cage had been carried by the men for a few days already. It had taken only a couple of days for the donkeys to become unusable, General Luna choosing to slit their throats on the spot rather than let them go free.
“Do you think dragons can curse you with a look?” Immanuel said, laughing at his own absurdity. “Perhaps we can throw Nesto at the cage and see.”
The group laughed, even Nesto drawing out an uncomfortable chuckle.
Fox didn’t blame him. It was easier to laugh at the joke than to acknowledge that he was an outcast. He’d seen the way the other soldiers looked at Nesto.
Like he was expendable—not that they all weren’t.
Fox knew that Nesto felt it. It’s why the young soldier had spent his days walking at Fox’s side and his nights lying nearby.
“So, what’s it look like, then?” Nico said, turning the conversation back to Fox.
Fox shrugged. “It’s beautiful.”
Jordi let out a snort. “The little major here has been out of the city for too long. He needs to get his rocks off with something.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Hey, Nesto, why don’t you take care of him?” Immanuel said, provoking another bark of laughter from Jordi.
But the others were barely paying attention, eyes still focused on Fox.
“Well, go on,” Nico said. “You said beautiful. What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s just a child, and you can tell,” Fox said.
“Its head is too big for its body still, and its body is too big for its wings. It’s white—but not the color of clouds, more like the inside of a seashell or the pearls from the Falain coast. And its wings are as thin as a butterfly’s. Nearly translucent.”
“It does sound beautiful,” Nesto said, though with a thoughtful gaze that hinted at someone struggling to make sense of Fox’s description. “But I guess even the ocean is beautiful right before the storm that strikes the ship down.”
Fox shook his head. “It’s not like that. It’s not beautiful scary. The thing is only a baby. I’m not sure it could do much harm.”
Jordi laughed. “So, we captured a damned Dragonborn god, and it turns out the thing is harmless? Maybe I’ll just kill it and save us all the pain of having to carry the fucker.”
“Be careful, Soldier,” Fox said, letting his voice drop low. “That dragon is an asset under the watch of General Luna. That’s close to treason what you’re joking about.”
Jordi scowled, but he said nothing more, snatching the whisky from Fini and taking a large swig.
“You should still be careful,” Nesto said, voice so low that Fox was sure only he could hear.
“What?” Fox said, turning his attention back to the young man.
“I’d be careful about falling for beautiful things that can kill you.”
Fox snorted. “I do have that problem.”
“I need to take a piss,” Immanuel announced as he stood, swaying ever so slightly as he did.
“You don’t need to tell us,” Jordi said, “unless you’re inviting Nesto here to join.”
Immanuel didn’t laugh this time, his lip curling as he stumbled off into the darkness that enveloped them. He seemed to disappear like a shadow the moment he stepped out of the circle of firelight, but his footsteps were loud, and Fox heard him cursing as he tripped and lumbered somewhere beyond.
Their group went back to speculating on what they’d find in the mountains—where the conversation had originally gone before Nesto had brought Fox and Eha’s son into it.
The entire army, not just their small group, had been taking bets on what they’d find.
Fox hadn’t thrown his hat into the ring yet, too afraid of bringing any of it to life.
He knew what the forest held, and the mountains had never let the Dereyans return alive.
He didn’t want to know what they were keeping hidden among the peaks.
A short scream broke the quiet night, and their group went tense, Nico and Fini jumping to their feet.
“Fucking trees!” Immanuel said somewhere in the distance, and the group immediately relaxed.
“He’s going to regret the whisky come tomorrow,” Nesto said, with only the barest hint of glee. “He’s on dragon duty first thing.”
Another scream pierced the night, and the group fell silent again, waiting to hear what trouble Immanuel had stumbled upon this time. But his cries didn’t cut off immediately, instead rising in pitch.
Then they did. The forest went quiet. The only sound was the drone of the army behind them. No one else had noticed the commotion, their fire on the farthest edge of the camp.
Nesto moved first, picking up the sword leaning against the log he sat on.
The rest of the group jumped up as one, scrambling for their weapons.
Any bit of whisky Fox drank seemed to evaporate from his body.
He seized a stick from the fire, moving to take the lead since no one else had thought to grab a light.
Nesto gave him a look of thanks as they pressed ahead.
Immanuel’s path was easy enough to follow. He’d left behind a swath of broken branches and footprints.
“Oh, kings,” Fox said, pulling up short as he came into the small clearing Immanuel had chosen to piss in.
The young soldier lay on the ground motionless, an entire chunk of his shoulder gone, but somehow blood barely leaked from the wound. A snarl broke the quiet somewhere above him, making his hair stand on end.
Fox turned, holding the torch high above his head. Eyes flashed in the light—a large creature half the size of a human watched from between the branches some yards above, blood dripping from fanged teeth. A blood monkey.
“Shit,” Nesto said, seeing Immanuel’s body. “We should—”
Fox swung his arm out, stopping Nesto from moving past him.
“He’s dead. I wouldn’t get near the blood.”
“What the hell is going on, Ocon? Let us through.” Jordi didn’t wait for permission, pushing him. “Afraid of the forest now, are you?”
A sharp intake of breath told Fox that Jordi had seen Immanuel’s body at last.
“What the fuck did this?” He swung around, his sword raised above him. Fox’s eyes remained fixed on the blood monkey crouched in the shadows. It looked down at Jordi, its tongue tracing along its bloody teeth, eyes hungry.
“Jordi, you moron,” Fox said, keeping his voice low. “Get back here. Slowly.”
“What the fuck is your problem, Ocon?”
Nesto’s eyes widened, and Fox saw him register the creature just as it let out another snarl. Jordi turned back to the forest, his sword already swinging, but by the time he faced the branch, the monkey was gone.
“What was that?” Nesto asked, eyes still scanning the trees.
“A blood monkey,” Fox said, using the torch to sweep across the branches, but it truly seemed to have disappeared, perhaps not interested in fighting so many at once.
“A blood—”
“A faerytale? Truly, Ocon?” Jordi had gone back to staring down at the body of his friend. “First you speak poetically of dragons, and now you want us to believe a faerytale creature attacked Immanuel? Did you do this? Attack him?”
“We were all at the fire when he screamed,” Nico said.
“It was clearly a jaguar or a wolf,” Fini said, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword.
“It was in the tree,” Nesto said.
“So, you saw a monkey. It’s the king-damned rainforest,” Jordi said. “But this ain’t the work of a king-damned monkey. They couldn’t do this.”
“A blood monkey could,” Nico said, and Fox couldn’t miss the hint of humor in his voice. He didn’t believe Fox any more than the others.
“Call it what you want,” Fox said. “This isn’t something to be trifled with.”
Fox stared at Immanuel’s body—the gaping wound and complete lack of blood. He didn’t have a doubt about what he’d seen. But what had drawn the blood monkey?
Immanuel’s sleeve along his left arm was torn open, long gashes on his bicep. He’d cut himself on the tree when he’d stumbled drunk into the forest. Just enough blood to draw the creature who’d probably been nearby.
“We should get back to camp,” Fox said, and no one argued. “We need to tell General Luna what happened.”
Fini groaned. “He’ll want us to sweep the forest.”
Jordi grumbled his annoyance, but he grabbed Immanuel’s weapons belt before leaving behind his body. “I claim his extra furs,” he said, slinging the leather belt over his shoulder.
“You can have it,” Nico said. “Shit’s cursed.”
Fox let the others walk ahead, the fire in the distance enough light to get them back to the camp without his help.
Fox kneeled over Immanuel. There were no eyes left to close, but he said a prayer to the kings that he’d find his rest. And then he sent a prayer to the dragons and Quelia, just in case—this was their domain, after all.
Nesto stayed behind with him. “You’re sure that was a blood monkey?” he asked, looking back at the body.
“I am,” Fox said, turning to him. “You believe me?”
“I’ve studied a lot of old Dragonborn books while helping Chief Commander Harlow map the forest. If the rivers and cenotes were true, why not the creatures? There is a lot in this world I haven’t seen. Doesn’t make them myths.”
“You’re a smart man, Nesto,” he said, clapping the young man on the shoulder as they started back toward the fire. “Smarter than people give you credit for.”
He shrugged. “I think it’s helpful to be underestimated.”
“I know someone else who thinks the same.”
“Does it work for them?”
“Definitely.”
That night, after the entire army had swept the half-mile radius around camp and found nothing, Fox was curled under his furs, the night fire burning low and hot a few feet away.
He fingered the small book tucked into his chest pocket.
He hadn’t pulled it out since they’d left, too afraid of being caught with it, even with the new cover.
But now, in the dark of the night, he eased it from beneath his blankets, moving until the pages were just visible in the firelight. He opened it and started reading.
He fell asleep thinking of monsters, but dreamed about Sofia and the scent of the sea.