CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
She pointed at my pewter. “For now, forget the apple stuff and get some food in you. You won’t exactly be fed well when out in the Pines, so fill your belly while you can.”
I lifted my cutlery. “One last thing. If the Sovereigns are weakening, could it be that the other half-bloods are weakening too?”
She did a slow blink. “I didn’t consider that but, yes, it could.
If they are, their instinct might be to scrabble for ownership of Deimos before it’s too late.
Which would explain why Theseus chose now to attack, and even why the other half-bloods in the Dark Lands have seemingly allied themselves with him. ”
“And if that is the case, an all-out war might again break out between them, mightn’t it?”
Grim lines etched into her face. “Yes. Yes, it might. So let’s hope we’re wrong. Because when half-bloods fight, there’s only one certainty: deaths. Many, many deaths.”
Several hours later, I found myself indulging in what had become a regular mental pastime while on a jog: imagining clawing out the eyes of whoever had come up with the concept of Xalbia.
Vicious, yes, but so was the ichor-induced headache banging in my skull.
The pain seemed to bounce in my head each time my feet slapped the muddy banks.
Jogging was not my favorite activity. Jogging through a swamp? I could literally have gone my entire life without ever having to do it.
The heat was brutal. The humidity was oppressive. The air was as stagnant as the swamp water.
Water that had found its way into my boots, along with mud. Lovely. Just as lovely as the way my sweat-slick clothes were plastered to my skin, sticky and chafing.
Half of the remaining candidates were part of our current party, along with Talon, Ajax, and Quillen. The rest were trekking elsewhere with other officiates.
We’d been jogging for what felt like forever, taking few breaks, and my body was majorly protesting. My feet throbbed, my knees ached, my calf muscles felt tight, and my throat was raw with thirst.
But then, my body was always majorly protesting lately. How could it not, when I was consistently hungry, fatigued, and sleep-deprived? But that was what Xalbia did—it attacked your basic needs as part of putting you through the ringer.
It also gave you blisters on top of blisters.
At this point, I was thankfully used to my feet being all busted; used to ignoring the tell-tale burning twinges on my heels.
Mostly because I usually had far bigger things to worry about while jogging or trekking in the Pines—not merely the beasts or the terrain, but the horrific conditions.
I’d been exposed to everything from sandstorms and avalanches to earthquakes and hailstorms.
Well, at least I had no mental room to further chew on what I’d earlier discussed with Khalida. Those paths of thoughts hadn’t led me anywhere good.
Spotting a spider web, I ducked. The puffing coming from Bevan behind me said that the Phoenixian had ran face-first into it. I cringed on his behalf.
There were no Laelaps with us today—they apparently detested the swamp; hated the scents of mud, rot, gas bubbles, and brine algae.
While I loathed jogging in these parts, I didn’t despise the terrain itself.
The swamp had a certain charm, even if—as Lear had once remarked—there was something ever so slightly morbid about it.
The trees were black and twisted. The vegetation was rotten and short.
Tall weeds protruded out of the brackish water that was the color of green peas.
Slimy algae seemed to be everywhere. And spiders. And snakes. And mosquitos. And horse flies. And did I mention the snakes? It didn’t matter how often I was subjected to these areas, I never got used to the serpents.
Then there was the quicksand. I’d toppled into it once before, during another jog. It had been not one bit fun.
And gods, there was so much noise. Frogs croaking. Birds screeching. Flies buzzing. Water splashing. Mud slurping.
Now and then, a heavy silence would crash down on us. And I’d know that some kind of apex predator was prowling around.
We had to be very careful to jog on the exact path that Talon took, since there were so many dangers here. Just one wrong step could result in you falling into a bog or sinkhole. He seemed to have the layout of the swamp memorized.
He also seemed not one bit affected by the scorching heat, stifling humidity, or how his boots were weighed down by the clumps of mud sticking to the soles.
No, unlike me, he appeared to be coping with it all just fine.
Something I literally couldn’t not notice, since making a concentrated effort not to look at him was useless when he was right in front of me.
I’d actually walked to the middle of the line when the candidates earlier gathered at the garrison, ready to leave. He’d moved me to the front like I belonged there.
See, this was the problem with such powerful personalities. You couldn’t really avoid them unless they were content to be avoided. And Talon, it seemed, was not.
He’d stayed reasonably close to me whenever we took breaks.
I’d struck up conversations with others to use them as a buffer—I’d even gone as far as to speak to Seneca at one point, who surprisingly hadn’t been rude.
But Talon had cut the talks short by either signaling for silence or ushering me away.
All of it seemed to be an effort to convey an Avoiding me is both stupid and impossible, you need to deal with it message. Or something like that. Whatever.
I ground my teeth as I noticed a swarm of gnats up ahead.
Squinting, I pressed my lips tight together as we barreled through them.
Oh, and how had I noticed them so soon? Well, the fog out here in the Pines didn’t seem quite as thick to me anymore.
I would have thought it was courtesy of the ichor, but the other candidates still complained about the fog’s density.
I didn’t know what it meant that I seemed able to see better out here. I’d posed the question at Khalida who, much like Lear, had merely suggested I was becoming used to it. Personally, though, I didn’t agree.
I was reluctant to consult one of the Marshalls about it. They would tell Talon, who would tell the Sovereigns.
Talon, who was beginning to slow down, I then realized.
Relief gripped me in its claws as he continued to ease up his pace. Finally, he came to a halt. I did the same, panting like crazy. Planting my hands on my knees, I dragged in mounds of air so thick and heavy with moisture I was surprised I could breathe it in.
I couldn’t lie, I felt a little sick—mostly due to my headache, which was steadily getting worse. None of the ichor’s side-effects had yet faded, as it happened. As such, despite being so physically drained, I was still hyper-alert and would get surges of crazy restlessness at times.
The other candidates were in the same state—as evident by their constant fidgeting. I’d gotten damn good at hiding just how jittery and twitchy I felt, so I wasn’t watched as closely as those who’d openly admitted to feeling that way. But I wasn’t so sure that Talon was fooled.
I couldn’t really complain about the overabundance of energy that purred in my system—it was my main source of fuel right now. It was a relief to know that Xalbia was almost over.
Hearing puffing sounds, I looked up at Bevan. He was scrubbing at his face and lips, where silken threads of web still stubbornly clung to his skin.
Beside him, Seneca let out a teasing snicker. “At least you didn’t get a mouthful of gnats. I heard Atticus practically choking when we ran through the swarm of them—I’m pretty sure he swallowed a few.”
“I did not,” Atticus denied, sidling up to her, his eyes dancing. Eyes that hardened as they met mine.
Uninterested in engaging in a stare-out, I looked away as I straightened and pulled my water pouch from the pocket of my breeches. I tugged the pouch open and drained the contents with a series of short sips, needing to feel the cool liquid slip down my raw throat.
Having gone through weeks of Xalbia ordeals with me, my pouch was so battered it was a wonder there were no holes in it. It had done me proud for sure.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Talon conjure a leather skin sack full of water—it was how we were all able to refill the pouches.
I hoped he didn’t also start conjuring weapons. See, we didn’t just trek or jog in such hellish terrains anymore. Once out here, we were usually given weaponry and ordered to defend ourselves against officiates. Bows, swords, daggers, maces—you name it, we’d used it.
Of course, Talon and the Marshalls waited until we were not only drained but midway through a break before springing this on us.
That they had us duel with people we could never defeat in environments where we felt unsafe at times we were exhausted and somewhere along the spectrum from roasting hot to freezing cold …
it was all part of pushing us. Tiring us further.
Eating at our morale. Beating us down to see how we handled it.
And, in doing all that, drawing out the person we were deep inside, just as Ajax had warned.
Hearing a plop, I glanced over to see something move in the water. Probably an alligator or crocodile. Those things were the freaking kings here.
Dodging the moss that draped from a tree branch, Quillen made his way to Talon and took the conjured leather skin sack. The Lykaon then arched a brow at me as he stepped closer. “You need a refill?”
I swiped at the trickles of sweat that rolled down my face. The moisture stung my palm, which was scratched to shit from having to climb through deadfall. “Like I need air,” I said, holding up my empty pouch. My nose wrinkled as I spotted something. “Uh, you’ve got a leech on you.”
His brows snapping together, he tracked my gaze to his upper arm. “Shit.” He reached down, snatched it from his skin, and then tossed it far behind him. “They’re everywhere here.”
I smiled in thanks when he tipped water into my pouch.
“As are snakes, but we won’t talk about that,” he added, his eyes lit with mirth.
I narrowed my eyes. “You just did.”
“I don’t know why they bother you. Is it because they have fangs? Venom? An unblinking stare? Or is—”
“Stop.” He knew it all bothered me; was only listing it to mess with me.
He chuckled. “I like them.”
“That’s your damage to deal with.”
Talon stepped between us, his jaw hard, stiffly urged the Lykaon to move along.
Quillen gave him an appeasing look, his lips quirking. “All right, I’m going,” he mouthed before striding away.
I didn’t look at Talon as I quietly admonished, “That was rude.”
An I don’t give a shit grunt slipped out of him.
Feeling the heat of someone’s attention, I glanced to my left. Ajax stood not far away, his speculative gaze sliding from me to Talon and back again. Choosing to ignore it—just as I’d ignored when Ajax had watched Talon and I closely during our last few breaks—I downed more of my drink.
“What the hell is your problem?” grated Bevan.
I whipped my head to the side, frowning.
Atticus, who was almost toe-to-toe with him, replied, “My problem is that my own cousin barely talks to me these days. He’s always with his new friends. And when I invite him to come have drinks with me at the tavern, he’s busy or tired or has some other excuse.”
I almost rolled my eyes. They’d had this conversation before. No matter how many times Bevan assured him that it wasn’t personal, that he hadn’t purposely detached himself from his cousin, Atticus never believed him. Probably because he knew that Bevan was lying.
Everyone knew that he was lying.
Bevan had pulled away from his cousin so as not to be associated with any trouble Atticus might cause—it was obvious. But instead of just accepting the situation, Atticus pushed and pushed him; wanting Bevan to confess it.
“Would you stop acting like I’m snubbing you,” groused Bevan. “Countless times I’ve waved you over to my table when we’re at the tavern. You don’t join me.”
“Because you’re with all your new friends,” Atticus bit out, his expression tight.
“I’ve also gone to you and asked if you were up for us having a drink together, just you and me. You said no.”
Atticus snorted. “I’m supposed to cancel my plans when you’re prepared to make time for me?”
“Okay,” Seneca cut in, shoving a hand between the two male Phoenixians. “Let’s just drop this once and for all.”
“Drop it?” echoed Atticus. “It doesn’t bother you that he avoids us?”
She sighed. “It’s not avoidance. He just made some friends and likes spending time with them. It’s natural. You did the same.”
“It’s different,” Atticus maintained. “I didn’t drop him when I befriended people, I just—” He jerked back when Talon crossed to him.
The Cardinal pointed to a spot a few feet away.
Outrage flared in Atticus’ gaze, but he obediently moved.
“If you were out here on patrol, you’d have given away your location and been so distracted by your own bullshit that you would have missed vital signs of danger and trespassers,” Ajax told him. “This is no time to air out your dirty laundry.”
Watching as Atticus’ flush deepened, I tied my pouch and pocketed it.
A low grating growl came from somewhere within the fog. Someone near the back of our line cursed aloud. Talon was gone in a flash of movement, and Ajax swiftly followed.
Something roared. Energy crackled. Screeches split the air as—oh, hell—a colony of bats zipped through the sky, as if fleeing from whatever activity was going on.
They swooped down low, rocketing toward us. Cursing, I backpedaled to avoid them, ducking my face to protect it. Mere seconds later, they were gone. I sighed, relieved.
And then the ground beneath me fell away.