Chapter 35 #2
“No one.” Rìan's voice, so close to my ear, made me jump. He'd appeared at my side, silent as a shadow, his eyes sweeping the underbrush.
“The Wildlands are exactly what their name suggests. Wild.” His keen Fae eyesight tracked something moving deep among the trees.
“The magic here is ancient. The Veins that run beneath this land are untouched. The creatures that dwell here answer to no High Lord, no Court, and no laws but their own.”
His fingers brushed the many knives at his belt.
When I glanced down, I realized several of them had iron blades.
“Many aren't confined to a single plane of existence. They wander freely between worlds.” His gaze slid to mine, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“The Moiraithe belonged to the Wildlands.” My heart seized at the memory.
The three-eyed crow. Sallow faces and tendrils of inky hair floating on a phantom wind.
“The things that dwell here are strange. Unpredictable. Do not trust what you see. Do not trust what you hear.” He paused. “And don’t touch anything.”
I nodded mutely, a cold knot forming in my gut.
“Rule number three,” Rìan said as he drew a wicked-looking curved blade from his belt and hacked through the first curtain of moss blocking our path. “No magic.”
Not that mine had been much use lately, but the warning still made something inside me clench. “No magic?”
I hurried after him as he pushed into the forest, the blade slashing through vines and low-hanging branches. The muscles in his back shifted beneath his shirt with every swing.
“They'll sense it and they’ll come.” He looked back at me over one shoulder, “There are monsters in these woods. Remember that.”
“I imagine you'll feel right at home, then.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
His expression soured at once. He turned away a little too abruptly, and resumed clearing our path. The next vine he encountered lost a rather excessive amount of its existence.
A satisfied smirk tugged at my mouth.
We continued like that for what felt like hours, him fighting the forest so there would be enough space in the brush for us to keep going. It felt like we were crawling forward inches at a time.
The air smelled of damp earth and rotting vegetation. Mist drifted between the trees, trapped beneath the dense canopy where the light couldn't quite reach it. I tipped my head back, searching for the sun. I found only a tangle of leaves and branches overhead.
If the forest could swallow this much daylight, I didn't want to know what it became after dark.
Silently, I willed Rìan to hack faster.
The underbrush rustled suddenly to my right.
I startled violently and lurched forward, colliding with Rìan hard enough to jar my teeth. The back of his shirt was damp with sweat, but the male beneath it might as well have been made of solid rock.
He paused and glanced toward the source of the sound. A flash of gray fur burst from the bushes and vanished into a burrow beneath a nearby root. A rabbit.
Rìan slowly turned his head and looked back at me, one dark eyebrow raised. “Things sound bigger than they are in the woods.”
“I know that.” The reply came out more defensive than I'd intended.
But he'd already turned away.
I fixed my gaze on Rìan's back as I followed him deeper, the curved blade flashing again and again. Branches, vines, and saplings exploded beneath each strike, as though the forest itself was an enemy to be conquered.
What did he see with every swing? The faces of the Full Circle? Aedric's?
Gradually, the undergrowth thinned and for the first time since entering the Wildlands, Rìan lowered his blade.
A moment later, I heard it. Water. The faint rush of it carried through the trees.
Rìan altered course immediately, striding toward the sound. I followed close behind until the forest suddenly opened around us. A spring emerged from between a cluster of lichen-speckled boulders. Ferns crowded the banks, shafts of sunlight striking the water in flashes of gold.
I slowed.
Not sunlight.
Thin streaks of light darted between the rocks like schools of luminous fish.
Rìan crouched beside the spring and shrugged his pack from his shoulders. After rummaging through it for a moment, he withdrew a tightly rolled parchment and spread it carefully across a patch of grass.
I immediately stepped closer.
A map of Elantis. The outline of the continent had been covered with a network of hand-drawn colored lines that crisscrossed mountains, forests, and seas alike. The Veins.
I immediately sought the three markings denoting the wells, but before I could look more closely, Rìan folded the parchment beneath itself, bringing the section of the Wildlands to the forefront.
His finger traced one of the golden lines that curled over the page.
Only then did I notice that one section of it overlapped a thin blue line, and I knew without a doubt it marked the spring beside us.
For a short distance, the gold Vein and the blue waterway traveled together across the map before separating once more.
Just before they parted, a small mark had been inked beside them in red.
The Gate.
Rìan's finger came to rest upon it. He studied it for a long moment. Then he grunted. Given Rìan's usual economy of words, I’d learned that was practically an entire speech.
We were on the right path.
He rolled the parchment up and slid it back into his pack.
“Don't drink from the spring,” he said without looking at me.
It hadn't even occurred to me to do such a thing. The gold flashing through the water was warning enough. Still, curiosity got the better of me.
“Why not?”
He gave me a look. “Because I said so.”
I ground my teeth.
His eyes lifted to the patches of sky visible through the leaves above. Whatever he saw there seemed to displease him.
“We need to hurry.”
Without another word, he started forward again, following the spring as it wound through the trees. I hurried after him, practically jogging to keep up.
“Is the Vein inside the spring?” I asked, breathless.
“Beneath it.”
“Are all Veins underground?”
“No.”
My patience thinned with every clipped reply.
“Well then what—ow!” I slapped at the stinging bite. Something zipped away from me quickly.
It looked like an oversized insect. The creature hovered several feet away, its wings beating so rapidly they were little more than a translucent blur.
Rìan halted beside me as the thing drifted closer.
It wasn't an insect at all—but some kind of tiny faerie.
No larger than my hand, its slender, androgynous body was green and mottled, the color of leaves dappled by sunlight.
Wisps of red hair hung around its head like trailing lichen, its enormous black eyes dominating its delicate face. It chirped softly.
Something in my chest melted. “Oh.”
It chirped again and flew closer, examining me with obvious curiosity.
It looked almost childlike, so earnest and innocent that I found myself smiling at it.
Without thinking, I held out my hand. To my delight, it seemed to accept the invitation.
It floated lower, its tiny feet stretching toward my palm as though it intended to perch there.
It grinned, exposing needle-sharp teeth that gleamed, stained dark with blood.
My blood.
Perhaps adorable had been a premature assessment.
The creature threw back its head, and a furious buzzing rolled from its throat, filling the clearing—far too loud for something so small.
Before I could react, Rìan's hands clapped together around it.
“No!”
He pulled his hands apart. Bright green ichor streaked his palms, and between them hung the creature's broken remains, its delicate wings crumpled like those of a crushed moth. With a look of disgust, Rìan flicked the corpse away between his thumb and forefinger.
“Blood midge,” he grunted, already turning away.
I gaped at him, horrified. “You killed her!”
He started walking again. “Blood-sucking little pests.”
I hurried after him, appalled. “How could you?”
“I think what you mean to say is thank you.”
My outrage intensified. “Thank you?” I spat.
“You’re welcome.”
I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into the hardness of his bicep. He glanced slowly down at my hand and back up at me.
“They're attracted to the scent of blood, especially blood touched by magic. Another moment and it would have called its nest, and their swarms number in the thousands.” His voice remained maddeningly calm. “They'll strip you to bone before you've run a hundred yards.”
My gaze darted instinctively to the trees surrounding us.
He shrugged out of my grip. “I just saved your life.” Stepping over a fallen log, he added, “Well, mine, really.”
Right. Because if I died, so did he.
I loosed a long breath. “Why did it bite me? I’m not bleeding.”
“I imagine it had something to do with the cut on your thumb.”
I raised my hand and stared at it. The tiny slice I'd made while testing the dagger's edge. I didn’t think Rìan had even noticed.
Making a face, I shoved my thumb back into my mouth and sucked away the remaining trace of blood.
After that, every insect that buzzed too close made me jump out of my skin. More than once I swatted frantically at empty air. Rìan said nothing, though every so often, I caught one of his unimpressed glances and made certain to scowl back.
The stream continued its path through the forest, the Vein flashing beneath its surface like liquid starlight. Rìan's attention remained fixed on the canopy overhead. The afternoon was waning, yet we still hadn't found the well.