19 #2
Fuck. Paved roads served as fair passage amid nature, but straying too far off the beaten path provoked the elements to react instinctively and protect itself against potential invaders.
Much like sap drizzling down a branch to trap unwanted pests from feeding on its resources, nature targeted those who felled lumber out of greed instead of survival, harmed roaming fauna for sport, or ventured onto consecrated ground.
“The roots are communicating,” Aspen whispered.
Reaching backward, I withdrew my broadswords and leaned in, murmuring against her ear, “It is not the roots.”
Those could be a crushing hazard in some territories of Autumn. But here, we had traveled into a different peril.
Aspen must have heard the tales, because she sucked in oxygen. “The leaves.”
Indeed. Riding through wouldn’t be an option. Attempting such a thing would shred us to filaments, excluding the fauna.
Shifting in the saddle, Aspen and I mouthed to Nicu, “Get off the horse.”
The Royal’s bulging eyes signified confusion. He would not understand what dismounting had to do with impending danger. I opened my mouth to recite a line that had been established by Poet, but Aspen got there first.
Leaping off the seat and bracing her axe, she quoted silently, “What does hide mean?”
Those green eyes flickered in recognition. Nodding, Nicu patted the animal’s mane to soothe the creature, then hopped to the ground.
The second he landed, I was off the stallion and hurling myself in front of Nicu and Aspen. At the same moment, the wind lashed, scattering more leaves into an airborne vortex wrought from Autumn lore. Animating into motion, their bristling edges sharpened like spikes, and they surged toward us.
With a growl, I spun my weapons and skewered through the cyclone. The leaves broke apart like shards of glass, then circled before gathering additional momentum. Sweeping more foliage from the branches and understory, the mass split into a larger pair.
Only now they changed form. The leaves formed wraith-like silhouettes, the figures slicing our way. They diced past the brambles, shearing through thick branches, hedges, and rocks as if those impediments were made of paper.
A cluster flew past my throat, the honed rims slashing my flesh like the teeth of a saw. Fluid dribbled down the side of my neck, the pain trapping a bellow in my lungs.
I slammed my broadswords into the fray, but the shattered wraiths reshaped themselves, multiplying with every thrust of the weapons. Aspen screeched in fury, her axe tearing a rift into one of the abominable figments, then she pivoted in the opposite direction to block another from Nicu.
These creatures would not touch them. Not as I lived and breathed.
I leaped into the scrimmage while Nicu and Aspen screamed my name. Like a flock of beasts, the apparitions closed in, shearing through my coat. I ducked and thrust, windmilling the swords and dismantling the largest specter with a crisscrossing swipe of both weapons.
Again, the move backfired. Instead of crumbling, the gruesome thing divided into two wraiths.
Then steel flashed, spearing into the leaves, followed by another blade hacking apart a second figure. The funnel shuddered, its belly opening. I plowed through, my shoulders ramming past the apparitions.
On the outside, Nicu wielded his dagger. Lines of red sketched his cheekbones and wrists, but he was alive.
Alive and as valiant as any warrior. Somehow, he’d ascertained my presence inside the quagmire and minced through the figures while Aspen chopped away as his side.
And yet. These macabre figments had injured him and targeted Aspen. A feral roar carved from my lungs, and my weapons speared into the cyclone.
Our trio whirled toward the leaves, placing our backs to one another. Aspen raised the axe, Nicu gripped his blade, and I balanced my swords. Together, we hewed through the wraiths, chiseling them down only to produce a vaster number.
“Oh, fuck this!” Aspen yelled, then jetted forward, lunged to the floor, and slid on her hip beneath the wraiths.
Another howl launched up my throat as she emerged on the opposite end. Her axe battered the squall from the other side, widening a gap for me and Nicu to spill from.
“West!” I shouted to Aspen, then to Nicu, “Grab your mount! Follow him!”
Racing to his palfrey, Nicu seized the reins. The leaves spared our horses, who galloped alongside us at a manageable pace. Sensing my trajectory, they shot past the creepers and retreated into a grove where monolithic trees towered into the sky, their bases hollowed out.
I sprinted quicker. “Inside!”
The wraiths sailed between us, deviating the warhorse who powered in Nicu’s direction.
Aspen pumped her limbs and dove into one of the trunks, a crimson silhouette flashing by before I barreled inside.
As we crashed inside the tree’s womb, the threshold convulsed, roots punching upward from the soil and dislodging chunks.
Plaiting together, they crowded the opening, light dimming as they sealed us inside.
As swiftly as it had begun, the attack ceased. Outside, the leaf-strewn wraiths audibly disintegrated to the forest floor with a clatter.
Panting, Aspen crumbled against the facade. Beside her, my weight struck the earth hard. Then I blinked, a shriek punching from my mouth. Aspen gasped, realizing the same thing.
“Nicu!” we hollered, throwing ourselves against the barrier.
A barbaric sound launched from my chest as I rammed my fist into the partition, blood oozing from my knuckles. Aspen called out something, but the thrumming of my heart blotted her entreaties. I did this several times until Aspen clenched my shoulders and hauled me backward.
“Listen,” she hissed, then tilted her head and whistled.
To which another muffled whistle responded. Heaving in relief, Aspen blew out a melody that Nicu loved to sing. In reply, the same tune floated from my liege’s location and penetrated the trunk.
My muscles slackened. I slumped to the ground, scrubbed a hand through my hair, and concentrated on the environment. No shifts or sensations. No metamorphosis other than the tree roots. At last, warmth coursed through my veins, indicating calmness and safety.
I sagged. “He’s well.”
Aspen exhaled. “I saw the horses leading him into one of the tree hollows. It was big enough for all of them.”
Thank Seasons. Though, this consolation was short-lived.
Like the wraiths and most other species in nature, trees operated on defense mechanisms. Some hollows closed whenever threats or unwanted vermin attempted to enter their trunks.
We had been fast enough to avoid the roots barring us, but we would be confined here until devising a way out.
With dusk approaching, the temperature dipped, and light receded. However, the hollow provided insulation. Against external perils and with no suitable campsite nearby, this tree became the lesser of two evils. We would remain here for the night.
“Aire,” the woman hinted. “Your sword is poking my ass.”
Dammit. I shuffled back, jamming my weight into the opposite wall. Except these cramped quarters barely supplied us with room to move, much less to keep apart. Daunted, we reassessed our surroundings. Then we glanced at one another.
Fuck me to hell.
Two fighters. One tree.