Chapter 18
Eighteen
Fawn watched the shadows creep closer and fought a shudder.
They were bad enough when they were just curling around the walls of the path. But a giant wall of darkness waited ahead of them, ready to swallow them.
“They will not harm you,” Zax assured her as he carried her closer to the cold, smothering darkness. “I have been here many times. They feel unpleasant, but they do not hurt.”
They don’t hurt you, Fawn thought. She didn’t like how menacing the shadows felt, tendrils of darkness creeping out from the stony walls and reaching for her.
Not for Zax—for her. She was sure of it.
As soon as he carried her close enough, every tendril started to reach for her.
They gravitated toward her, slow and inexorable, only stopped by Zax’s continuous footsteps.
When Fawn looked back, she could see all the shadowy tendrils stretching out, too slow to catch her.
The wall of shadows loomed closer. Sure enough, as soon as they got close enough, shadows began to stretch out of the veil of darkness and reach for her.
“Zax,” Fawn blurted, unable to ignore the icy dread in the pit of her stomach. “I told you that mortals avoid this mountain, right? They say it’s forbidden because of all the dark magic it supposedly holds.”
“It does hold dark magic,” Zax said. “We are walking toward it.”
Another tendril of shadow reached out and grazed Fawn’s wrist. She shivered, pulling her limbs in protectively.
“They say there is a darkness that eats people,” she pressed. “Eats mortals.”
Zax slowed. He looked around at the shadows consideringly. “They do not seem to be eating you.”
Fawn looked around with him and realized something shocking. Now that she had pulled her limbs in, they were not trying to touch her. At least, they were not making that final jump; they would stretch slowly out toward her, then stop once they got too close to Zax.
Fawn breathed out shakily. As long as she stayed close to Zax, she was safe.
“Are we walking into a void?” she asked as Zax resumed his pace.
“No,” Zax replied. “It is part of the mortal realm.”
“Are you sure? It feels… wrong. Like it shouldn’t be here.”
Zax stopped at the curtain of darkness and looked down at her seriously. “You can stay here if you wish. But I do not want to leave you here while we are being hunted.”
Fawn stared up at the impenetrable shadows. She had never seen darkness so complete, even on a moonless night in the depths of winter.
Zax took her chin gently. “Fawn, I will not let any harm come to you. Neither will my brother. He is fond of mortals.”
Fawn breathed out slowly. She had spent her life pretending she was fine when she wasn’t, agreeing to things she would rather not do.
But if Zax said she would be fine, then she would trust him.
If worst came to worst, he would carry her out of this wretched place.
Besides, what else could they do after all this effort to get here?
“Okay,” she said. “If you say it’s safe, then I trust you.”
This seemed to cheer Zax endlessly. He held her close, and Fawn marveled at the safety she felt in his scarred arms. Who would have thought she could ever feel safe being held by a Skullstalker?
After another reassuring squeeze, Zax stepped into the veil of shadows.
Fawn gasped as the temperature plummeted.
“What?” Zax said, alarmed.
“Nothing! It’s just cold.” Fawn rubbed her arms through her coat. “Keep going. I want to get this over with.”
Zax quickened his pace. The darkness was so thick that Fawn couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of her face.
They were still trying to reach her, and these shadows were not slow and sluggish like the ones back in the path.
They almost lunged, only stopping when they neared Zax.
Like he had an invisible shield, circling her inside with him.
A voice called through the darkness. “Ho, brother! What news do you bring?”
Fawn squinted. A soft blue light took shape in the darkness ahead. Then a shape in front of it.
At first, she thought the Skullstalker was short, as Zax was. Then she noticed that he was stooped, his back hunched like an old man’s. Ragged mortal clothes hung off his strange, sagging frame. He looked ancient, his skull mask chipped not with battle, but with age.
“O-ho,” said the Skullstalker, his cloudy eyes widening as he caught sight of Fawn. “You’d best follow me into the cave, then.”
He turned, waddling into the darkness. Zax followed, and soon the darkness began to retreat. A brightly lit cave awaited ahead, almost untouched by the shadows. It was covered in rows and rows of ingredients Fawn didn’t recognize: herbs and tonics, tonics, shimmering elixirs.
Fawn let out a sigh of relief as Zax stepped into the cave. The only shadows here were the ones curling around the cave ceilings, which were lit with flickering, floating candle lights.
“Little brother,” the Skullstalker greeted as he came to a shuffling stop and turned to face them. “I see you have finally found yourself a mate. An exciting next chapter in your bothersome story. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” said Zax, even as Fawn frowned at the “bothersome” comment. Then she remembered that Zax had said he came up here several times trying to make the old Skullstalker give him a spouse and figured his comment might be warranted.
The Skullstalker hummed, tapping a weathered claw against his wrinkled chin. “This is new. Usually, my brothers come here alone.”
“Why is that?” Fawn asked warily.
“Hmm?” The Skullstalker looked at her with mild surprise. “Because it is dangerous for mortals, of course.”
“Oh,” Zax said. His grip tightened around Fawn, who glared at the shadows circling the cave ceiling.
“It will be fine,” The Skullstalker assured them. “As long as you keep her close. Now tell me, young one, what do you wish of me?”
“A spell,” Fawn said before Zax could answer. “No, two spells! And a request.”
“Oh?” The Skullstalker’s cloudy eyes twinkled. There was a glow behind them, Fawn realized, though it was muted. “What is your request, if not to use my magic?”
“We would—” Fawn hesitated, looking at the ancient Skullstalker’s hunched form and decrepit bones. Even with his claws and fangs, he looked better suited to sitting on a porch chair drinking warm milk than fighting. Still, Fawn persevered.
“We would ask you to fight with us,” she continued.
The Skullstalker laughed. “Look at me, mortal. I do not fight!”
“But,” Fawn said desperately. “Even if you cannot physically, you have such magic!”
“Not for fighting,” the Skullstalker said, his cloudy eyes flashing in a way that almost made him look dangerous. Then it was gone, and he looked so sad that Fawn wondered what he was thinking about. And then his face changed again, his weathered lips stretching in a sunny smile.
“And even if I did fight,” the Skullstalker continued joyfully, “I do not get directly involved in my brothers’ lives. I simply stay here and hand out spells when I am needed.”
“You wouldn’t have to leave!” Fawn tried. “They’re here, on Anderfel.”
This made the Skullstalker pause. His tail curled thoughtfully, and he turned toward a shelf of dangerously stacked jars.
“Hmmm,” he said. “Mortals on my mountain. I rather thought they stayed away!”
“They do,” Fawn said. “But they’re chasing us and decided it was worth the risk.”
“Please, brother,” Zax said. “You are the most helpful of all of us. Help us with this.”
The Skullstalker chuckled, sorting slowly through the jars, which miraculously did not topple.
“Brother, you are small but strong. If a little worse for wear, with those new battle scars. I am sure that whatever comes your way, you can handle it. Now, about those spells. You requested two. Let me guess: the size ritual and the lifebond?”
“Yes,” said Zax, relieved. He looked down at Fawn, his eyes full of such love that she was reminded of the original reason why they would come here. Not to put an end to Errol and those who wished to hurt them, but to celebrate their new life together.
The Skullstalker hummed again, his tail swishing as he pulled jars and bowls down from his oozing shelves.
“Well,” he said. “I can only give you supplies for the lifebond, and you will do the rest yourself. In private, if you understand my meaning.”
“You mean…” Fawn paused, her cheeks heating. “We have to be together for the spell to take effect?”
“Among other things,” the Skullstalker said. He frowned, picking through a stack of decaying papers. “Hmph. Ah, here we go. The incantation and your supplies.”
He turned, shoving the paper at them, along with several jars and a bowl of green paste. Fawn took them and stuffed them into her pockets with the freckle rock and her vegetable knife, then slid the bowl into Zax’s pocket when she ran out of room.
“But the size ritual,” Zax started.
“That, I can do right here.” The Skullstalker plucked one last jar off the shelf, then frowned at the liquid inside. It was black, and there was barely a layer of it sticking to the bottom.
“I will need to gather more,” he muttered.
He held up a single finger, retracting the claw.
It took several seconds of sighing and grunting for it to retreat back into his finger, and he sighed when it vanished.
Then he dipped his finger into the oil, spreading it around until it coated his skin.
Then he beckoned that black finger at Zax.
“Come here, young one,” he said.
Zax stepped closer.
The Skullstalker smoothed the liquid in strange lines over Zax’s skull mask. Then he dipped lower, drawing patterns over his collarbones, so close to Fawn’s head that she had to duck down lest he drip on her.
“One last ingredient,” the Skullstalker said softly.
He pricked Zax’s thumb with his claw. Then he pricked his own and dripped their blood into the jar. He mixed it into the liquid and drew one last dot over Zax’s lower lip.