22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Viola
T he moon is high, and despite the ground we've covered and the beasts we've encountered, I barely feel closer to our goal.
These woods are swarming with creatures, and none of them are kind. Since we ran into the cockatrices, we've fought three more of the giant bugs with the acid spit. Eventually, we got into a good rhythm, and it became muscle memory on how to take them out.
Most surprisingly, the vines that stretched across the trees turned out to be several different serpent-esque beasts. One wrapped around Plume's waist and attempted to hoist her in the air before Morrow chopped it in half with his axe, and I lowered her gently to the ground with my shadows.
Every part of this jungle is alive and wants to kill us.
My body is tired, my mind is weary, and I know my companions struggle to have enough energy after the level of magic they've extended. But something inside me lights up, and my body aches with the sensation.
"Stop," I croak out, hands rubbing up and down my arms.
Mace and Zeph immediately notice my discomfort and rush to me, clamoring over each other to comfort me. I gently step out of Mace's grasp, patting him on the forearm. "It's a God thing," I say kindly. "I need Zeph's draw right now."
To his credit, Mace doesn't look too upset. He just takes a step back and rests a hand on my lower back from behind me, allowing Zeph to face me head-on. "What do you feel, Shadowweaver?" he says in a clipped tone.
"Something is nearby. My body is aching for it," I force out. "It wasn't like this with the other pieces."
"Perhaps it's because it's your last part. Your magic knows what it is missing this time." Zeph places his hand directly over the sunfire on my chest. When his hand touches me, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace come over me.
"How did you learn to do all of this?" I ask, my shoulders drooping.
He smiles. "Himureal gave me loads of texts on the high priests. And uh… I may have stolen the journals from Morrow's bag and been reading them." He ruffles his auburn hair, looking ashamed.
Morrow laughs. "I would've given them to you if you'd have asked. May not like you much, but you're a damn good high priest, it looks like."
Now that the ache in my body is calmed, I can listen to where the magic within me is yearning to go, and I follow that path.
I freeze.
The magic within my veins roils, but not in the way it was just minutes ago.
No, this is something else.
"Shields, now!" I shout, throwing up my own, just in time for a massive creature to fall out of the sky directly on the shield. It tries to claw into the magic, to hold itself up, but it falls off the barrier. It rises to its feet, and I finally get a look at our attacker.
Plume gasps at the same time Mace swears, "Oh fuck."
A massive furred beast is in front of us, its mouth shaped into a mimicry of a smile, stuffed full of deadly pointed teeth. It walks on four feet, each tipped with a sharp claw. Wide wings stretch from its back, the strength within them evident from the ability to keep its massive body up. Fur grows around its neck and is matted and mangy with blood and gore. A long tail swishes behind it, and at the end is a circular growth covered in sharp spikes. It's like a brutal mace attached to the tail of the beast.
"What is that?" Tulip asks as I start to plan my magical attack in my head.
"A manticore," Plume says, shaking her head. "I thought they were myths."
"I'm starting to think Krillium has no myths," Tulip says, groaning. "Because it seems like we just keep proving them wrong."
The manticore paces in front of the shield, and I've got Shadow and Decay intertwined, creeping out of the forest and wrapping around the creature. It thrashes and manages to break from a shadow, so I have to continuously put effort into keeping it there so the Decay seeps into its body.
"I'm dropping my shield! Zeph, Morrow, get ready!" I shout. The moment my shield falls, I feel the two Summer fae erect their own to cover Plume and Tulip. Mace is surrounded by a yellow mist, and Lightning is striking down next to the manticore.
Despite my hold on it with my shadows, it manages to lunge and swipe at me. Claws rake across my thigh and cut into my flesh. The smell of my blood lights up my bloodlust and I snarl, launching Fire magic directly towards the creature. It wails as the fur around its face lights up.
With a swing of its tail, a few of the spines dislodge and come flying towards us.
I'm too focused on restraining the tail to notice the barbs going right for Mace.
One hits him directly in the shoulder, going straight through. His shout of pain almost pulls my attention from the creature, but I have to keep my eyes on it, trusting my partner to get himself to safety.
I'm no use to Mace if I'm dead.
A hand between my shoulder blades lights my body up with devotion and strength, and I look to see Zeph behind me, Mace safely encased in a shield that Morrow is holding. He looks tired and sweating, and I'm worried about his ability to protect those I love.
"Don't worry about them," Zeph says softly. "Let's get rid of this thing."
Zeph lights the creature on fire; the snarls and yelps it makes fill the night air. The Decay from the shadows has made it impossible for the manticore to stand, and it slumps to the floor. I pull another shadow to me and then another, twirling them together in front of me. I imagine them turning into a large blade, deathly sharp and fast. More shadows join them and flow together until there, in the air, floating in front of me is a massive pointed sword that I will into the heart of the manticore.
It's dead before it can even yell, blood soaking the jungle floor.
The shadow sword disappears as soon as I release the restraints. My body slumps, feeling depleted and used. Zeph wraps an arm around me, whispering in my ear.
"When I was a child, I used to sneak into Mace's room and steal one of each of his socks. I would hide them around the house so our mother would think he was leaving his clothes everywhere, and he'd get in trouble."
I wrinkle my brow, making eye contact with my very odd high priest. "Why are you telling me this?"
"All of the journals agree on one thing – devotion is stronger when it comes with a sacrifice. The Winter journal made a few references that to tell a secret is to sacrifice it." He shrugs, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile and crinkling his eye. "It's the first one I thought of."
My laugh slips out of me until I remember Mace is hurt. I spin around and see Morrow still struggling to maintain the shield. "Drop the shield, Morrow. We'll have to make do without one."
Plume is kneeling next to Mace, who is sitting up and swatting her away. "Don't waste your magic on me," he says stubbornly. "Let's just put some tincture on it, wrap it, and keep going."
"The tinctures work better if they have a little magical help," Plume says, ignoring his request to leave. She peels off his shirt, revealing that his lithe, corded torso is slick with blood from his shoulder. Plume digs into her pack and pulls out a feverfew tincture and another that I don't recognize. Plume sees me eying it and smiles. "White willow bark. I found very little, so I didn't trade any of it."
"Which is why you shouldn't use it on me," Mace grits out. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his arm is still slowly oozing blood.
I crouch next to him and snarl, "Get fixed up, or I'll tie you down and force it." I rise to my full height and look down at him, eyes full of challenge. He rolls his eyes at me but turns to Plume, his jaw clenched.
"Fine. Miss Mistflow over here insists." My eyes narrow at his choice of name for me in this moment.
Plume explains to Mace that the white willow bark mainly works as a pain relief, and the feverfew will prevent infection. She puts a few drops of each into the holes caused by the manticore's barbs. Hovering her hands over him, Plume begins to mutter under her breath, and before my eyes, the blood stops dripping, and the skin starts to stitch itself together. Patting her patient's shoulder, Plume stands up. "Good as new," she says with a nod. "It's more important for you to be at full power than me right now."
"She' s right," I say, grabbing his other hand and hefting him up. "Plume's Healing magic is of no use to us if we cannot injure the beasts with our offensive ones. It would leave her with too much of a mess to clean up." Mace slips the bloody shirt back on, and my mouth waters at the smell of it. I can feel the fuzz of bloodlust come over me, and I lean forward to lick some off of Mace. I can control myself most of the time, but I suppose my partner's blood is irresistible.
"Nope, absolutely not," Mace says, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me away. "You've got to get fixed up too."
I look at my leg, surprised to see three long claw marks on my thigh. How am I walking on this? How did I not notice it?
It seems that seeing the injury has brought it back to awareness within my mind, and the pain hits me all at once, making my knees crumple. Mace catches me easily, lowering me to the ground. Plume is there immediately, putting the same tinctures on my leg and muttering the same magic under her breath.
It's a strange feeling to be healed. The magic seeps through me, and mine welcomes it, even if it can't stay. The gentleness of the Healing magic is a welcome change from some of the wild, dangerous magic that thrashes within me.
As soon as I am healed, we check over everyone else, making sure everyone is no worse for wear. Tulip is quiet, eyes downcast. I move to her. "Are you hurt?" I ask, hands roaming over her body, checking for injury.
"No, of course not. I was shielded the whole time," she answers. Her normally bubbly voice is subdued, and her body is tight. She looks devastated over something.
"What's wrong?" I ask quietly. Even though I am talking to her, I am not looking at her, my eyes scanning the surrounding area for threats.
"I'm a fucking burden, that's what's wrong," Tulip snaps. "I just sit here shielded while the rest of you fight. In fact I take one of your fighters away by having him shield me."
Morrow looks over our way, responding to the anger in Tulip's rising voice. "I want to shield you, wife. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."
"It doesn't matter," she says, ignoring the fact that Morrow is still calling her his wife, "I should've just stayed on the boat." Her voice is sad, but I don't know what to say in response. "I know I'm a good fighter, but this is different. We're not getting close enough for me to be of any use."
She is taking away fighting resources. There really isn't anything she can add to this situation. As much as I care for her and want her here, and I know she is good with weapons and hand-to-hand, overall, all of the beasts we have encountered have made it clear that this is not the place she should be right now.
But of course, I don't tell her that.
Instead, I rub my hand between her shoulder blades and let her vent her frustrations. Zeph approaches her, and she flinches at his proximity.
"Apologies, Tulip," he says quietly, holding his hands up, palms towards her. "I have a lot to apologize for, but that will wait. There is something you can do to help."
She looks up, sniffling from the angry tears that spilled out of her eyes. "What can I do?"
"I will shield you. You will then help me boost Viola's magic through devotion." He lowers his hands.
"How would we do that?" Tulip asks skeptically. "She knows I believe in her."
"Devotion is stronger with a sacrifice," I say suddenly, locking eyes with Zeph and smiling. "Zeph is saying you need to walk with him and tell him secrets."
"Excuse me?" Tulip yelps. "No, I'm not telling you my secrets."
Zeph laughs. "Sacrifice is an interesting word. Some interpret it to mean death and death only. And, of course, that ultimate sacrifice is a huge gift of devotion. But there are so many other ways to sacrifice for something you believe in." He looks at all of us. "You can sacrifice blood, yes, but you can also sacrifice time. When people used to journey to the Cliffs of Barez to pay respects to the Gods, what was that but a sacrifice of their time?" Zeph holds up his hand, ticking off fingers as he speaks. "I believe that you can sacrifice secrets. Things you hold close to your heart for only yourself." He smiles, shrugging. "I'm sure there are other ways to sacrifice, too, but if you're repeatedly cutting yourself, I'm sure Viola's bloodlust would become insatiable."
Tulip rubs her fingers between her eyes. "And this will boost Viola's power?"
"I believe it will. As high priest, I am a conduit, able to pull the devotion from the realm and direct it to her. She would still eventually realize the devotion, but it's more immediate and stronger through the service of a high priest."
Taking a few moments to think, Tulip eventually relents. "Fine, I will walk with you and tell you my secrets. They stay with you, right?" she asks, eyes darting around.
"Of course," Zeph says with a laugh .
With that settled, I try to pull the Godly essence within me to continue to direct me toward the artifact. The pain of longing within my very being hits me again, and I follow it.