Chapter 6 #2
Her heart thudded wildly with adrenaline as she slipped back into the forest, her eyes not yet readjusted to the lack of moonlight under the canopy. The further from the river she went, the more sounds she heard. There was rustling, an occasional branch snapping.
There were things moving in the forest.
Normally, such sounds would be a comfort, but Iryana’s instincts screamed danger.
Her eyes were so focused ahead that when her boot ran into something, she almost stumbled. Focused, icy calm settled over her as she looked down and found the stretched-out back leg of a dakya. The creature wasn’t moving, its chest not rising.
Breathe, she reminded herself.
Iryana stepped around the mottled-gray body, noting the single set of horns.
The ground around the fallen dakya was splattered with steaming, inky blood, but she saw no signs of what had killed it.
Its muzzle and claws were soaked with blood, though.
She couldn’t tell in the limited lighting whether it was black or red.
Iryana would have assumed the beast was alone, roaming the territory for threats as the rest of the pack slept, but there were sounds coming from deeper in the forest. Perhaps the dakya had been scouting as a pair. Or perhaps she was hearing whatever or whoever had killed the dakya.
Either option could be a serious problem.
Iryana thought through the layout of the surrounding forest. There was a path closer to the river that would lead her safely away, but she hesitated.
Whatever it was, it was likely injured. And she had the advantage of surprise. She was a bit stiff from the cold, but adrenaline would warm her right up. Hunting the dakii was almost impossible, especially without a metal-forged weapon, but these were as good as the odds got.
Creeping closer, she could tell the sounds were that of a single, larger animal. A human or a lynx could not make such sounds. Perhaps a bear could, but that was far less likely than a dakya.
Had the dakii been fighting? She hadn’t seen such a thing before, but the creatures never ceased to surprise her.
Her fingers tightened around the bow. Was she really going to hunt it?
Yes.
Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, Iryana crept through the trees, strengthening her shield as much as she could without suffocating herself.
So much adrenaline coursed through her body that it felt like she was shaking.
The noise came from a clearing just ahead, and just as Iryana was about to peek around one of the large birches, the woods fell silent.
Arrow drawn part-way, Iryana stepped out from behind the tree and into the moonlit glade.
Amidst the frozen mud and jagged mounds of snow, blood was splattered across the clearing. What could have bled so much? Not one creature, surely. Then she noticed the forms of two more dakii at the far end of the space, bodies twisted into impossible shapes.
Then a roar tore through the air, and a large, mottled-gray body flew out of the trees and straight toward her. Its fog-blue mane rippled behind its snarling face. Blood gushed from a wound in its side.
Before she even had the chance to think it through, Iryana’s bow was raised, her arm pulling back, and an arrow whizzing away from her fingers.
She already had another in her hand when the first sank into the beast’s eye, not as deeply as she wanted.
Any normal creature would have been felled by such a strike, but the dakii were not normal creatures.
As she loosed the next arrow, a wildness took over her. This time, instead of drawing another arrow, she drew her knife.
Letting the dakya nearly crash into her shield, Iryana dove and thrust into the beast with her knife, letting her sideways momentum tear the blade through its shoulder. It roared, but she kept moving, drawing an arrow.
The dakya swung wide as she raced a few steps away, just enough to trigger its chase instincts.
Everything else in the forest disappeared as she tracked every beat of the beast’s paws against the earth, every momentum-gaining stride, and timed the exact moment to dodge.
She breathed. Once. Twice. And then dove, crashing over her shoulder painfully as she felt something graze her foot.
The dakya had been moving far too fast, far too frenzied to slow quickly.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she ran backwards as she reached for her arrow. Hoping for a few more moments.
The two-horned dakya dug its feet into the slippery ground to turn, forcing its large body around, but Iryana hit it with another arrow even as she continued moving backwards. This one sank into its neck, an inch from where Iryana was aiming.
She clenched her jaw.
It was gaining on her now, and she needed it to slow down, just enough to take her shot. She leaped into a diving roll, forcing the dakya to turn, to slow just a little, and reached for an arrow before she was back on her feet. The second she had room to draw, Iryana was nocking and firing.
Her heart seemed to stop beating, and time seemed to slow down as she watched the arrow spin.
If she missed, the dakya would be upon her before she could draw again, but that wild frenzy in her mind stilled her hand from grabbing pointlessly for another arrow.
The arrow hit its mark—but the dakya kept coming.
Iryana closed her eyes, bracing herself and her shield where she was still crouched on the ground. The magic felt weak; she had been using it too heavily for too long.
She let out her breath, and it was more with acceptance than anything else.
It was over.
But Iryana wasn’t tackled and a thud a few feet away jolted her eyes open instead. The dakya lay in a bed of snow, soft whimpers and blood coming from its mouth.
Iryana wasn’t sure what she felt at having survived, but it wasn’t relief. And that made her angry. She couldn't abandon her family, not now.
The silence split as loud clapping sounded through the clearing. Iryana spun, reaching for an arrow.
It was a man walking toward her, tall and lean, hands outstretched as he clapped for her. The barest hint of a smirk only sharpened the planes of his face.
She was stunned, motionless as he stared at her with a look so intense she wondered if she’d ever move again.
A man in the woods? There were connections to be made, to the dead dakii and the blood in the clearing, but her mind didn’t reach for them.
Shaking her head, Iryana looked over him carefully, but she couldn’t see even a single dagger on his body. Yet, the slight hollow of his cheeks and his sharp jaw were smeared with blood. And the steel plates of brigandine armor flashed as his cloak billowed behind him.
“You’re not even forged, are you?” the man asked, head pitched to the side. “Yet you took down a dakya all on your own. Impressive.”
She just stared at him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Iryana,” she said before thinking it through. Her whole body was tense, her mind so frantic she couldn’t latch on to her thoughts fast enough to make sense of them.
The man stepped so close that she could see the faint blue of his eyes, the lighter sun-streaks in his short, brown hair.
“Iryana, what are you doing in the forest at night?”
Realizing there was only one reasonable explanation for why he would be there himself, she stilled. He was a soldier from the local military gang, the 18th Brigade. Just like Pyetar. There was no other explanation.
She had to be oh, so careful.
The brigades were just as likely to kill someone found in their territory as they were to chase them back home.
“Gathering medicinal plants.” She shrugged, hoping it appeared nonthreatening, and touched the bag still slung over her shoulder.
He hmmed. “At night?”
“Less dakii and it’s easier to slip out unnoticed.”
“So you’re from one of the posts then. And clearly unforged, but lethal with your bow.” He smiled. “A young guardian then.”
Iryana shrugged again, forcing her body to stay relaxed even as he drew closer. The way his body moved was catlike and predatory, like he knew he was lethal. If she was going to get in trouble for being in the brigade’s territory, she didn’t want the rest of the family blamed.
“I trained as one, but calling me a guardian is a bit of a stretch. I don’t live with my family. Really, I avoid them when I can, to be honest.” She met his sharp gaze with one of indifference. “You’re from the brigade, I presume.”
He smiled, and she was surprised by how the expression softened his face. He looked almost handsome. And not at all angry.
“I am. I’m Karvek.” Again with that smile. “It’s been an unexpected delight running into you.”
Iryana frowned.
Karvek chuckled lightly. “Forgive my boldness, but I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone. Let alone someone out here for the same reason.”
Her chest tightened. “What do you mean?” She knew he couldn’t mean harvesting plants; he had no supplies, but she was almost afraid to know the real reason.
“Let me guess. You’re used to relying on yourself, like going out into the beast-filled woods alone.” His smile widened. “If we trusted anyone else, we wouldn’t be alone out here, would we?”
Confusion, recognition, surprise… whatever it was, her throat tightened. She nodded her head in agreement.
If he felt he related to her, then he wouldn’t punish her for being out there, right?
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and clasped it to hers, something flat and round pressing into her gloved palm. Iryana tensed at his touch, but he was already backing away.
She could feel him watching as she looked at the coin he had given her. It was worn, the mark stamped onto the front and back only partially remaining. A military coin.
It was impossible not to recognize the symbol—it was stitched onto the brigade’s ambassador’s cloak, inked onto the edges of a map the brigade had given her family, stamped at the top of every missive they sent. This was more than just a coin or a symbol.
“This is for the 18th Brigade?” she asked, though she knew it was.