24. Serpentums
Chapter 24
Serpentums
S ylzenya had grown up learning about Lhaal Forest, had stared at its crooked treeline from the temple’s balcony, its black shadow an ever-hanging presence surrounding her kingdom. She’d read books about its monsters, listened to Dynameis discuss their adventures in harrowing details.
And yet, nothing could’ve prepared her for this.
Three giant serpentums emerged from the yawning cave, each of their body’s thicker than ancient oak trunks. Their length was beyond anything she’d witnessed—a never-ending tube of white iridescent scales. Black tongues licked the air and clouded eyes glowed yellow.
They were slow. Poised.
Sylzenya had read enough to know these creatures were cunning, severe, and most importantly, the hardest to kill. Even a sword with orodyte serum struggled to slice through their scales.
And they were moving straight towards the Dynameis.
And Elnok.
Damn that man. Damn him to hell . She was a protector of people, not a destroyer—not a killer. And yet, she’d been unknowingly killing people on the other side of the forest for ten long years. Crops had been stolen under her power, rivers drained, people made sick.
She knew what had to be done: let Elnok fight for his life while she continued her journey to the tree. Druenia had lost enough from her.
Easy decision.
And yet…
“ Elnok Rogdul, ” she yelled, falling to her knees, “ I hate you. ”
One palm pressed firmly into the dry forest soil, Sylzenya concentrated on her goddess’ power. She turned her other palm turned up towards the tree tops. Digging deep into her veins, she remembered how it had felt when she touched her willow, how her goddess’ heartbeat had thrummed through every crevice in her body.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Bright gold water flowing through her body. Power shocking every nerve until it woke. Vision sharpening.
The orodyte serum: Aretta’s power.
No, it was more than her power… it was Aretta’s blood. She could sense it now, the way it flowed under her skin. Gold light peeled out from her opened palm, spinning itself around her arm like a powerful thread. With a tilt of her head, she sent it into the ground.
But then her mind ruptured.
Instead of light, all she could see was darkness as black as the liquid she’d poured into her cut.
Her goddess’ heartbeat ceased.
Sylzenya, a chilled voice whispered , have my monsters finally arrived?
A deep cold slipped in between her bones, freezing her to the earth.
Distrathrus’ voice wound in and out of her head then in between her muscles. She fought against the cold, urging Aretta’s blood, warm enough to thaw the thickest of ice caps, through—but it was more than cold and heat. A barrier had been erected between her and Aretta’s power.
Your power has never been your own. And now, my blood flows through you. Without my permission, it will remain dormant, trapped behind my blood.
“ Bastard ,” she breathed.
She tried clawing through the barrier within her, scratching at the hard surface, desperate to unite with her goddess’ thrumming heart. But it was impossible, Distrathrus’ presence hovering over her like a thick fog, deafening her ears.
It was as if she’d never escaped him.
“Swords up!” Kharis shouted.
A sudden flash of white scales pierced her eyes.
Streaks of light blurred as the serpentums struck, the Dynameis utilizing their orodytes to fight the monsters, slicing at impenetrable scales. Sylzenya’s heart faltered: Elnok stood in the middle of the creatures, dodging the serpentums’ strikes. His speed was impressive, especially for someone without power, but he wouldn’t last long, even with the Dynameis weakening the creatures.
Your poor little thief will be the first to go.
Sylzenya gritted her teeth, refusing to speak to him as she pounded against the barrier, writhing against Distrathrus’ blood.
“ Don’t stop, Elnok ,” she shouted, sweat dripping down her neck as she dug her nails into the dirt.
He picked up his speed. But then, two serpentums simultaneously struck. Their fangs missed, but the impact sent him into their wall of hard scales. Blood spurted from his mouth, his body sliding to the ground.
“ No !” she screamed.
Tensing her muscles, she fought harder, trying to climb the barrier only to lose her grip, falling into darkness.
Distrathrus’ voice snaked through her, Time’s running short, and I need you to return home.
“ Let me through, ” she demanded.
Silence met her instead.
“Aim for their throats,” Kharis shouted as he raised his sword, the orodyte shining bright on his chest plate.
One of the warriors fell from the air, landing on the ground with a loud thud. His torso was torn in half, entrails spilling out into a pool of blood.
Marlo.
Westley stood back to back with Kharis, yelling in anguish for his dead friend.
“You’d let your own warriors be killed for this?” Sylzenya shouted.
I’ve killed many things for you, Sylzenya.
Dark dread dripped down her throat.
“Westley, focus ,” Kharis commanded, “Let the prince fend for himself. Distrathrus only needs Sylzenya alive.”
Her insides burned bright and hot—power and blood.
And yet, her power wasn’t enough.
I’ll let you save them , Distrathrus’ whisper seeped into her mind, because I care for you. I want you to understand this above all else.
“You’ve never cared for me,” she seethed, fighting back tears.
How far from the truth you are.
Suddenly, the barrier crumbled, a rush of golden power overflowing into her limbs.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Gold light circled her arms, her torso, her entire body, digging deep into the flesh of her back. She held back her scream, commanding Aretta’s power through the air and sending it into the ground, the heartbeat pulsing with the compass’ light.
Time was running out. Gritting her teeth, she stood up, the earth connected to her not through touch, but through her being.
Blood and blood.
Life.
She opened her hand to the darkened sky, light erupting from both her palms, warm blood pouring down her back.
All three serpentums stopped their attacks, turning to her as if they knew she was about to send them to their graves. In one swift movement, they abandoned the men, jaws unhinged and fangs dripping with black poison as they lunged for her.
“I will never be yours,” she whispered to Distrathrus.
His laughter cackled in her ears, far away, disappearing into the darkness.
The putrid air froze.
A thick glowing root shot up from the ground, piercing a serpentum’s jaw up into its head. Warm, rotten breath brushed her face, the creature’s black poison dripping at her feet, its fangs hovering over her body. Its shriek rang through the air, its body flailing only to fall limp. More glowing roots shot up, the other serpentums’ screams filling her ears as scales gave way to flesh.
Curling her lip, she stared into the yellow clouded eyes of the dying serpentum.
“Praise be to Aretta ,” she growled.
Distrathrus’ voice was nowhere to be found.
Clenching her jaw, Sylzenya circled the monsters, all three of them staked to the ground.
But then her stomach dropped.
Westley’s feet didn’t touch the forest floor, his body elevated by the thick root speared through his lower back and out of his mouth. Acid rose in Sylzenya’s stomach, her hands shaking as she rushed forward, her legs losing their strength. Grabbing his slick, bloodied hand, she shook her head; she couldn’t have done this. She wasn’t a killer?—
But she was, wasn’t she?
“Westley…” she whispered.
“ Sylzenya ,” Elnok’s weak voice called
A new wave of panic sliced through her. She left Westley, searching for Elnok, praying to her goddess that she hadn’t speared him too. She circled a serpentum, her heart faltering; Elnok lay on the ground, one leg underneath the massive creature. Strained smile on his face, he waved her over as if it was a casual afternoon.
“Could use some help,” he said, pulling at his leg.
Rushing forward, she stopped, mouth twisting into a horrible grimace.
“You’re a complete and utter fool ,” she spat.
“Look, you can berate me all you want after my leg isn’t being crushed.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” she interjected, “that you were going to kill all the Dynameis and serpentums in one go? What, just you and your fancy rope and glowing sword? I hate to break it to you, but if it wasn’t for me?—”
“I would’ve died. Yes, I’m well aware of the situation, Sylzenya.” He grunted as he tried freeing himself. “And I still might if I lose this leg.”
“Perhaps you should lose a leg. Then you might learn a lesson.”
“So you’re volunteering to carry me the rest of the way to Aretta’s Willow, then?”
Tilting her head to the darkened sky, she said, “In your dreams, thief. ”
“Well then, we’re a few minutes away from watching my dreams come true.”
Sylzenya gritted her teeth as she gripped the heavy body of the serpentum, using all her strength to lift any weight she could off of him. It was barely enough, but after a few attempts, he slid his leg out, caressing his knee as he let out a relieved breath.
“Where’s Kharis?” Sylzenya asked.
“You didn’t spear him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Elnok replied, wincing as he stood up, “He fled once he saw what you did to the serpentums. Left his men, too. Coward . ”
“He isn’t in his right mind,” she replied, “much like yourself if I might add.”
Elnok raised a brow. “He instructed his men to leave me to die. I think I can call him whatever I’d like at the moment.”
Sylzenya meant to reply, but instead she staggered, her vision blurring as she fell to her knees. Everything swirled around her, different colors and smells overwhelming her senses. Acid rose in her throat, and she couldn’t stop herself as she released it onto the ground. Elnok gripped her shoulder, sweeping her hair out of her face before she could sully it.
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Elnok said, “Wait here.”
“Not much else I can do,” Sylzenya replied, spitting out the foul taste in her mouth.
Elnok returned with rags, waterskins, food packs, two leather pouches, orodyte serum vials, and another sword. Quickly, he placed the rag on her back, the cloth stinging. She gritted her teeth, fingernails scraping dirt.
“It’s not going to stop,” she said, “I need you to use the blunt side of the sword.”
“I’m not going to burn you,” he argued.
“Then I’ll bleed to death.”
Elnok grunted, grabbing the sword and steadying it over her back. Sylzenya bit the inside of her cheek, readying herself for the inevitable burn.
“Hold on, let’s try something else,” Elnok said.
Exasperated, Sylzenya turned around to find him holding the compass instead, its dim glow still pointing east. Slowly, Elnok placed the compass on top of her cut. It felt like cold running water laced with gentle mint leaves, soothing her hot, flaming skin. She groaned in relief as he slid the compass along her cut, the skin knitting back together, the pain silencing into a dull throb.
Sylzenya whispered in relief as she hung her head.
Bark from a healing willow: she’d been blessed beyond measure.
“I’m grateful, by the way,” Elnok said as he put the compass away, wetting a cloth and applying it to her skin. “You’re right, if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been dead.”
“You didn’t give me a choice,” she sneered.
“But now you know what you’re capable of.”
“I didn’t want to know, Elnok.”
Silence spanned between them. “Then what do you want?”
Sharp as a dagger, her cut flared again, the pain so vibrant she grabbed Elnok’s forearm, squeezing his muscle in her hand. He didn’t flinch, letting her work through the flames until they died down into a smoldering ember; pain she’d lived with ever since she stepped foot in the temple.
“The only reason I was able to do… any of this… was because he let me.”
Elnok kneeled next to her. “What are you talking about?”
Dirt wedged into her fingernails.
“He’s in my mind, Elnok. In my body. Distrathrus has control over me because I poured his blood into my cut. It’s why it took me so long to use my power. He let me save you.”
Shaking his head, Elnok let out a low growl. “No, he doesn’t control you. You’re stronger than him?—”
“You understand nothing about this,” she shouted. “He's been using me for years , Elnok. He’s been using everyone. That godsforsaken bird even warned me not to trust him. But why wouldn’t I? I’ve followed him for a decade. I did everything for him, because of him. He shaped me, and I let him. He’s the only reason I have any power at all.”
Elnok’s green eyes searched hers. He didn’t back away, didn’t refute her, didn’t try to change her mind.
Instead, all he asked was, “So, what are you going to do about it?”
She paused, her anger surging deeper and wider than she’d ever allowed it. Tears stung her eyes; she let them roll down her face, dripping onto the earth, same as her blood.
So much sorrow and pain.
And Distrathrus was the reason for all of it.
“I need to find Aretta’s Willow.” Sylzenya whispered, “It’s what the bird was trying to tell me all along: if I don’t, I won’t just lose my power, but Distrathrus will try to destroy all of humanity.”
“Then the only way we’re going to find it and survive is if you use your power,” Elnok said.
She looked at Westley, his corpse drenched in blood. “And that doesn’t bother you? That I’ve been draining your land’s rivers and drying your people’s crops?”
“We’re in a forest filled with monsters trying to kill us,” Elnok replied. “Philosophical ideals are a bit arbitrary at the moment.”
Allowing the stench of metal and rot to fill her nostrils, she took a deep breath.
“All I’ve worked towards in my life has revolved around protecting my people, and I mean to continue that endeavor,” she replied. “And your people deserve protection too. The war between Aretta and Distrathrus never stopped, and in war, there are casualties. The only way we save more lives is by stopping Distrathrus. However, I’m only going to try and use my power when absolutely necessary.” She sat up, pointing her finger at him. “So don’t go running into battles we don’t need to fight. Understand?”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Swear to it.”
He lowered his hands. “Trust me, I don’t want any more death for Druenia either, even if I didn’t give that initial impression. It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t get Orym’s medicine without you.”
“Without my power, you mean, which I’m not even in control of at the moment.”
“Well, yes, if we want to talk technicalities.”
Sylzenya knew it shouldn’t matter, but she didn’t want to talk technicalities. She wanted to know if Elnok still cared for her even after their argument earlier. Would he defy his morals to make sure she could fill air in her lungs, just as she had?
But, how could she expect him to care for her in the same way when she'd been the reason his life had been famines and droughts? The reason his friend was dying? It was her responsibility to right her wrongs, and so, she would. She would help him get Orym's medicine from Aretta's Willow.
And if she truly cared about Elnok, then she would leave it at that.
“We should get moving before any more monsters show up,” Sylzenya suggested.
Elnok’s throat bobbed—hesitating. Sylzenya held her breath, a small bout of hope rising in her chest. Instead, he nodded, gathering the supplies he’d taken off the dead Dynameis and situating them in one of the two leather pouches. Her hope doused as quickly as it came.
She accepted the other leather pouch, filling it with a vial of orodyte serum, five strips of dried meat, two large clusters of nuts and berries wrapped in leaves, and a half-full waterskin.
Barely a day’s worth of food.
Her hands shook as she took out the compass, the reality of everything she’d just done starting to consume her. She had killed Westley— murdered him —with her power, slayed three serpentums, lost track of Kharis, and possibly took away an entire field of crops on the other side of the forest.
And Distrathrus still held her in the palm of his hand.
Acid rose in her throat again.
“Be honest, what do you think?” Elnok asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Sylzenya looked up. He had belted another scabbard around his waist, sheathing a second longsword on the opposite side of his first. Both of the swords tipped just above the ground, as if he had two legs made of steel.
“What are you doing?” she questioned.
“I think it’s pretty obvious. I’m asking for your opinion of my new look.”
“Now isn’t the time.” Her voice wobbled as she turned her gaze to Westley’s body.
“Sylzenya.”
The smell of blood dissipated as his warm hand gripped her chin, tilting her face to meet his while his other hand took her shaking fingers.
“Don’t look at any of that,” he said, his gaze steady and determined. “Now, tell me, what are your thoughts?”
Falling apart wasn’t an option, not in Lhaal Forest, and not when their goal was so important. She was tipping over the side of a cliff, about to become undone, and Elnok could see it.
She straightened her spine. “You look like a youngling who thinks he could be a Dynami when he’s actually destined to run a floral shop.”
He smiled, a blessed vision in the wake of her carnage. “What a diabolical assessment, as if you assume I wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy owning a floral shop.”
“The problem is that you’d probably run it to the ground,” she replied, a smirk crawling along her mouth.
“Well, guess I’ll have to prove you wrong on all accounts someday.”
Surrounded by blood, death, and destruction, she laughed. It felt wrong, and yet it felt right as Elnok joined her. A strange knot had been tying in her chest, but it started to loosen. His half-grin took her away from Westley’s pale eyes, Distrathrus’ cold voice, and the lingering pain in her back.
Her hands no longer shook.
How did he do that?
“We need to be watchful,” Sylzenya said, removing her chin from his hand while she stood, “I doubt Kharis is gone for good.”
“I agree. Let’s not linger.”
Sylzenya grunted in agreement as she led them forward through the dark fog, the glow of the compass and Elnok’s sword illuminating the barren path. Sylzenya offered a prayer to Aretta, seeking her guidance, and requesting the tree stay in its current location before Elnok’s friend ran out of time.
And that, by some miracle, it held the answer to stopping Distrathrus.