Chapter 8 The Dreadmoor Curse
THE DREADMOOR CURSE
Kalypso
“Hey, Kaly, you there?”
Kalypso shoved Rand’s waving hand out of her face. “What?”
“Damn, that nervous?” the yellow demon asked, looking her up and down. The veilhound leashed at his side continued to sniff her boots, bone-exposed skull, spine, and tail undulating with its quick inhales.
She’d met the thing days ago, confirming the beast wouldn’t try to rip her to shreds when they started hunting, but it seemed today it was only interested in the conflicting smells of her borrowed armor.
Beyond Rand’s looming body, she saw Ozirax’s purposeful cold shoulder, and then Tonomoch’s narrowed gaze, so she shook out her body. “No. This armor is uncomfortable.”
Not to mention, it reeked of piss. Even the veilhound seemed disgusted by it as it hacked a cough and turned away.
“Ah, solid as Rohash though,” Rand countered, gesturing to the stone she stood next to.
She’d initially been drawn to it by the sprout etched into the surface, reminding her of her sister, but now she wondered if slouching on the god of earth’s shrine was considered rude.
“I’d rather it be uncomfortable and save my life. ”
“And it has,” Garion teased, slapping the triage healer’s shoulder before gesturing to the neighboring stone. That one was carved with a flame. “Kaly, maybe Illustra is the goddess for you. Matches that fiery attitude.”
“She’s also the goddess of joy,” Ozirax mumbled. “Better suited for Wrasmos’s anger.”
Kalypso rolled her eyes and pushed off the stone. “And who does our oh-so-spiky porcupine worship?”
Behind her, someone muttered, “The fuck is a porcupine?” but her gaze was locked on the stone Ozirax knelt in front of. Two crescent moons back to back adorned the front, with significantly fewer offerings in the basin underneath.
“He’s our weird one, aren’t you, Ozzy—rax?” Tonomoch began, unable to disguise his mistake. He cringed as the purple demon glared at him, face darkening before he muttered, “Mareet, drown me.”
Tonomoch scurried off, leaving Kaly standing over Ozirax as he placed a small scroll into the offering basin and set it alight with a violet flame from his finger. “Frank, deity of the stars and moon.”
Kalypso watched, transfixed, as Ozirax studied the smoke wafting from the basin.
“Their domains are secrets, nighttime, shadows.” She watched as he touched the runes on the stone depicting each domain, lingering longest on the one in the middle. “Divination.”
In a single, swift move, he stood, towering over her, but she didn’t back away. “You see the future?”
“I seek knowledge. Sometimes that of what may transpire.” His gaze bored into her. “Most often, I simply ask for advice.”
He stepped past her, gathering with the rest of the squad as they finished their pre-scouting routine, but Kalypso found herself lost in the last wisps of smoke. The ones that seemed to curl around a rune Ozirax hadn’t mentioned, in a language she didn’t know yet understood all the same.
Trickery.
Guilt was unfamiliar to her outside of experiences with Katarina, but that was the emotion staining her insides as the rune stared back at her. Accusing.
Warning.
Perhaps she belonged here instead.
“Spicy.”
That word broke the spell, smoke dissipating like it had never been there.
Kalypso spun away, readjusting the cuirass digging into her armpits, only to find a blade pointed at her. She stared at the silver an inch from her heart, then glared at the wielder.
“Really?”
Ozirax smirked, then flipped the blade so the handle was presented to her. “Keeping you on your toes. You get distracted like that in the Dreadmoor, you won’t make it back out.”
Kaly ground her teeth and snatched the simple sword’s handle, but instead of relinquishing the blade, Ozirax held firm and leaned closer until she was forced to look only at his stupid, chiseled, perfect face.
“I do hope I won’t find this in my back later.”
She glared right back, snarling even if her teeth weren’t sharp weapons like his. “Is that what Frank foretold?”
Despite her yank, he refused to let go. “I’m serious, Kalypso.” The use of her name had her stilling. “The Dreadmoor is deadly on a good day, but things have been… off. If we encounter something, stay back and out of the way. Observe, but do not lose sight of our formation.”
Kalypso let his words sink in, and before she could attempt to take the blade again, his hold was gone, and she had to avoid slicing his tail as he spun and stormed away from her.
Fine, asshole. But I’m not doing it for you.
Maybe for his tongue, because that antsy feeling normally simmering in her veins had been blessedly gone since the showers, but definitely not for anything more.
She shoved the sword into the scabbard at her hip, following him with a grumble that seemed more fitting than thanking him for the book that she’d managed to skim a lot easier than the one Rand had shared.
When they reached the border of the barracks, where the city ended and the Veilwood began, Kalypso paused to tap her cuff and felt the magic lift from her shoulders.
Whether they trusted her or simply didn’t care, no one looked her way to see if she’d take her new freedom and run. While she had considered it, she’d unfortunately not been able to find any maps of the city, and there was no chance she was going to run without taking her sister with her.
And maybe Brioni. The girl was growing on her.
A shoulder knocked into hers. “You good?”
Kalypso stepped away from Tonomoch’s hovering. And the swinging maces strapped to his shoulders. “Fine.”
“You know, this is Oz’s first scout as squad leader. He’s just making sure nothing goes wrong.”
She focused on the others who were walking ahead and deep in strategic conversation. Too busy to listen in.
“Why did he take over for…”
“Severath? Oz was always just a step below, ever since they were kids. Which always irked him because Sev’s two years younger and was more concerned with taking care of his twin brother.
But I think a lot of it was manufactured rivalry from their fathers—both legendary guards—and they handled the pressure differently. ”
Kalypso could have sworn Oz’s head tilted back, like he was waiting to see what she might say.
“Hmm,” was all she managed.
“Either way, I’d follow them both into battle without question,” the gold demon said. “Wasn’t really a question who would take over, even if we’ll miss Sev’s skills with an arrow. I’m sure you’ll… figure something out.”
All curiosity disappeared as she glared at him. “Gee, thanks so much for your confidence.”
“Alright,” Garion grunted, gesturing to the edge of the Dreadmoor. “Time to focus.”
From the human side, Achreos Barrens was threatening, but not in the same way the sight before her was.
Here, with no sun to at least illuminate some of the depth, there was only darkness, mists seeping out of the clawed trees.
Color leeched from the forest, and the light of the moon that seemed brighter in the Veilwood, completely dulled once it touched the cursed place.
“What the fuck?” Kaly muttered, and despite the fear settling in her gut, she found herself walking forward. Closer to that tangle of overgrown death.
A gentle hand rested on her forearm, and then Ozirax was gesturing with his spiked sickle. “That opening is one of the most traversed of the carved ways. The eternal mist is not as thick, but you must avoid the darker patches. Follow the exact steps in front of you.”
She frowned, giving him a wary look, well aware of the shifting of demons around her. “When you say things in the Dreadmoor have been off—”
“He means it’s been a fucking nightmare,” Garion offered, then tossed his demonlight magic into the air and stepped into the mist.
Rand only nodded, following the darkened figure in front of him as the veilhound’s eyes flashed purple.
Only Tonomoch and Ozirax lingered with her, and as she stared into the Dreadmoor, she did indeed feel dread. But deeper, somewhere in her middle, she felt a call. One she refused to identify.
Kalypso’s first step into the forest was uneventful.
As was the next and the next. Until it had been thirty minutes of fog and gnarly branches and quite a bit of muck.
She was hyperaware of her own noise, heart loud in her ears even if she still felt relatively calm.
There was just enough movement beyond the carved ways to keep her vigilant, distant growls and shrieks of monsters she couldn’t identify echoing around them, but when no one else reacted, she found herself settling into the flow.
At least, until the veilhound stopped around a lump of bloodied scrap. And scrap was generous, because the pile of bones nearly came up to her hip.
“Hiriivi,” Garion observed, looking around as his hand stayed firm on the hilt of his sword. “Something attacked if it got this mangled.”
Closer, Kaly could identify the antlers twisted within its broken bones, but most of the rest of the beast she’d seen drawn in the book was unidentifiable.
“Why leave so much… meat?” she wondered aloud, then had her answer moments later when the veilhound made a retching sound and backed away from the beast.
Rand glanced at the veilhound, then to Ozirax. “Looks like it’s cursed.”
Kalypso looked at each of their concerned faces, then scoffed. “You… can’t actually believe that.”
“The Dreadmoor itself is a curse,” Tonomoch said as the others began scanning the area.
“Magic that bled from our summoning ages ago. Poisoning the area and the beasts within. Even the veilhounds can be traced back to wolves of your world, and we do not allow them into our city for their more feral tendencies, even if we’ve somewhat domesticated them. ”
“But that can be traced to a source. The scar of your summoning, poisoning over generations. This?” She gestured to the pile of spoiled hiriivi. “You said it’s only been happening of late.”
“Even we don’t fully understand the Dreadmoor—”