33. TruthBlood
TRUTH OR BLOOD
DAWN
It’s said of the Whisperwood: ‘Those that enter find what they’ve lost and join it.’ The boundaries are rumored to shift around unwary travelers. Most folklore has a grain of truth at its core—the wilds of Valta are treacherous.
The Whisperwood was fucking with them, and it wasn’t Dawn’s fault.
Lore had been in bad shape at breakfast that morning.
Riven was worse. Talia refused to speak to Dawn and the others followed her lead, so Holloway stepped up to play captain.
His voice went clipped and arrogant in a way she did not appreciate.
They had two choices, he said—turn due north, hit the Queen’s Way, and proceed west on the road to Heller’s Ridge.
Or cut the corner and head straight for town.
“North is the only choice,” Dawn insisted. She tried to explain about the nightmare forest with fuzzy edges, but the soldier boy fucking interrupted her.
“Tally is worried for our injured,” he’d said. “We should take the shortest path.”
His precious Tally was being a stubborn prick, so Dawn’s warning went ignored. Now they were trapped. Even the horses knew it—ears flicking, eyes rolling white. Smart beasts. At least someone was paying attention.
“Still with us, old man?” Dawn asked. She caught Riven’s shoulder just as he pitched forward in his saddle. He was riding Larkspur now that Sorrel had no use for her. Poor girl’s riders didn’t stay alive long.
He cracked one eye open. “Oh, takes more than this.” His hand squeezed her wrist. Dawn tied him on, just in case.
Lore wasn’t much better. Black veins branched from his wrist to above his elbow. Sick-sweat hung in a cloud around him. Dawn told herself she didn’t care, but she caught herself checking his pulse. Burnout was a nasty way to go, even for him.
The forest was wrong. No other word for it. The sunlight came through weak and gray. The horses’ hooves made no sound, like the ground wasn’t solid. When she spat, a coppery taste stuck to her tongue. The fog thickened, curled, licked at her calves.
“Cut that out,” she growled at whatever. The fog. The trees.
When the road split, Dawn’s temper was up. Twelve paths ahead. Twelve identical dead ends. She’d seen this before, illusions that ate feelings like fuel. Not great with a crew this emotional.
“It’s you,” Riven whispered, staring into the forest.
Dawn looked where he was looking. Nothing there. Poor bastard was seeing figments. Then Dawn saw her own.
Sunlight. Real sunlight, not this gray shit. Ehrue sat in the grass, hair loose around her shoulders. Two boys wrestled by her feet. A little girl laughed—white hair like Ehrue’s, dimpled chin like—
No.
Dawn’s breath caught. Everything she’d lost. The forest had found the only thing she wanted and ripped it from her chest. She slid off Brimstone’s back. Took a step toward the clearing and felt her foot slip forward like it was soft sand, tugging her in.
“Don’t move!” Holloway’s voice cracked across the clearing. “Nobody take another step!”
The vision shattered. Her family vanished. The forest pressed in again, darker and hungrier. It sucked at her ankle as she pulled back. Branches pressed closer, and thorns caught at her coat.
“Fuck!” Dawn yelled, yanking her sleeve back. The branches pulsed when she said it.
“There’s a pattern,” Talia said, staring at Dawn. “Every time you get mad, the forest feels it. We all need to stay calm.”
“Yeah? Good luck with that.” Dawn laughed under her breath as she climbed back onto Brimstone.
Of course no one listened, or else they had no fucking self-control. They rode on best they could, and the forest went right on thrashing. Jasmine bloomed in Riven’s wake, reaching for Talia. Flux sparked whenever Talia’s gaze slid to Lore.
“What happened to staying calm?” Dawn asked as blue sparks crackled around Talia’s head. Whatever that said about Talia’s thoughts, it wasn’t something pure.
“Will you shut up?” Talia snapped.
Dawn raised her eyebrows. Everyone here wanted to protect that girl, and she wanted to throw herself at Lore. That was fucking funny. Then Riven slouched in his saddle, deadweight on the ties.
Dawn turned back and shook him. “Damn it. Not now.”
His eyes opened. “You know”—he coughed—“how it works.”
“Are you seriously lecturing me right now?”
His mouth twitched. “Thought you might listen…if I was dying.” His breath hitched. “You have to…let go.”
She snorted. “I’m fine. You’re the one bleeding all over your horse.”
“Forgive yourself.” His eyes closed. “She would.” Then his body went slack again.
Dawn felt a spike of cold, then prickling heat. Don’t panic. He’s alive. We’ll get out of here, then get help.
The path opened into a clearing that was even stranger. Birches ringed the space, roots knotted to create a sort of arena. The air felt off. Cold and still as a crypt. Bones jutted from the moss.
Holloway’s horse balked. “We’re not the first to get lost here.”
No shit. Dawn felt that quicksand pull again, tugging her forward. The forest wanted her here.
The fog pulled together at the center. It thickened into a column, then a shape.
Bark and shadow, seven feet tall, eyes like burning coals.
The stink of rot and old blood rolled off it.
Dawn’s hand found her revolvers, one on each side.
Her fingers traced their etchings like a little prayer.
She might not believe in gods—old, true, or otherwise—but her sidearms had always come through.
“Truth or blood,” the thing creaked. A dryad, she realized. Same category as blood magic, weird and fucked.
Holloway slipped off his horse and stepped forward, all soldierly calm. “We mean no harm. We only ask for passage.”
The dryad tilted her head. Runes flared down her arm. “Lies.”
Roots erupted under Holloway’s boots, spiraling up his legs. He hit the ground hard. The vines burrowed and bit through fabric. He cried out in pain, and Dawn smelled fresh blood.
“Let him go!” Talia shouted, but the air around her shimmered, locking her in place.
Dawn raised her gun. The dryad turned those ember eyes on her. The weight of its stare squeezed her heart.
“Ancient one,” the thing said. “Speak. Truth or blood.”
Dawn’s gut clenched. She glanced around at her companions, but they seemed more alarmed by the talking tree than by what it had called her.
“Dawn, it’s you,” Talia gasped. “The forest is reacting to you.”
Dawn flashed her teeth. “Sure, blame me. I told you to avoid this fucking place.”
Roots started twisting around the horses’ legs, and they screamed with panic. Branches bent low. The fog surged higher, so cold it burned. Sound went muffled.
“Truth or blood,” the dryad repeated. Waiting.
Fine. They wanted truth? They could have it.
“You think I chose to be like this?” The words ripped out of her. “I do the hard shit that needs doing, and you hate me for it. So hate me. But when the next monster comes crawling out of the dark, you’ll beg for my help.”
Light burned up from the ground. Roots wrapped around her boots, climbing her legs.
“I wasn’t there, all right?” Her voice cracked. “My love died screaming while I was off with my friends. That’s the truth. I failed her. That’s why she’s dead. That’s why he broke his oath.”
Her eyes cut to Riven. No saying how much time he had left. She’d say whatever she needed to. Spit out whatever guilt she pretended not to carry and swallow it all over again. She wouldn’t lose him too.
The forest shuddered. Vines loosened on Holloway’s legs. Fog pulled back. The dryad came apart like smoke in sunlight, scattering into nothing.
Silence. Then the canopy above cracked open. Real light broke through. The ground went solid under their feet. Dawn let out a shaky breath. The only thing missing was birdsong—but birds never sang in Valta these days.
Holloway stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “What the hell was that?”
“It was a toll,” Lore said quietly. “She paid it for us.”
Closest thing to thanks she’d get from this crew.
They rode on, and the mist started to thin. Talia laughed a little hysterically. By late afternoon, trees gave way to meadow. They came on an old stone temple, and the air smelled like clean water. The forest could’ve spit them out anywhere, so Dawn checked the temple gates for clues.
“Oh shit.” She turned back to Riven. “You picked the right place to die dramatically, old man.” A grin slipped out before she could stop it. “This is Elanvesi.”
“Water of life,” Talia murmured.
Dawn nodded. “You two”—she pointed at Holloway and Lore—“make camp. Watch the horses. Keep the fire going. We’ll be back.”
No one argued. Apparently, they were listening to her again. Dawn spat the last taste of the Whisperwood from her mouth. Then Talia gasped. “He’s not breathing. Dawn, he’s not—”
Riven lay slumped over Larkspur’s neck. Fuck. She had no idea if the springs could catch a man this far gone, but she’d drag him there anyway.
“He’ll be fine. It’s a hike. Let’s go.”