24. Puck
“Zombie is an oversimplification,” I mutter as I stare at the reanimated skeletons. Their bones click as they form and shift, and even though their eye sockets are empty, it feels like they’re staring straight at us. One looks at Lysandra and dirt drips from its unhinged jaw like saliva, as if it knows she’ll taste delicious.
And she fucking does, but I’m not about to let a necromancer’s creation know that.
“You’re going to argue with me about word choice?” she spits.
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
The skeletons amble toward us. Without connective tissue, they’re only able to move so fast. We can use that to our advantage. Lysandra is visibly shaking as she watches these nightmares-given-life get closer and closer.
I grab her by the shoulders. She blinks out of her fog, but I still see the panic in her wide eyes. “I’m calling a truce,” I say, all traces of joking gone from my tone.
“A truce?” she repeats.
“We work together to get out of this alive, then we can go back to competing.” I stick my hand out, even though the gesture is purely symbolic without magic to bind the agreement. Lysandra looks between my eyes and outstretched hand, her indecision keeping her frozen.
I slide my opposite hand to the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair and tugging slightly. “Lysandra.” I’m not sure if it’s the sound of her name on my lips or the quick burst of pain that grounds her, but she settles back into the confident princess I’ve come to know.
“Yeah, okay,” she says, gripping my still outstretched hand. “Truce.”
We spring into action, each of us dropping our packs and tearing through them. Luckily, we’re on a bit of a hill; the skeletons have to pick their way over the vegetation and climb uphill. Even as some are taken out by the large plants and thick roots, more appear in their place. The white of the bones is stark against the green vegetation, like a cresting wave coming straight for us.
“Tell me you packed a weapon,” I plead, searching for the sword Edina shrunk and packed for me. Fuck, I miss my magic. Never have I wished for the ability to summon something more than I am right now.
Lysandra shrieks as one of the beings makes it past the last layer of ground brush and has a clear shot at us. My hand finds the hilt of the sword, and I unsheathe it as the metal expands, glinting in the filtered light. Swinging in a large arc, it smashes across the being’s neck, severing the head from the torso.
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank the goddess.”
The skull floats up from the ground on a magical breeze that smells of decaying fruit. Then, it’s standing in front of us again, a long centipede crawling out of its eye socket. “You spoke too soon,” I murmur.
I shove a still-weaponless Lysandra behind me, as she continues to hunt through her bag. I strike at the monster, severing arms, legs, and hands, only for them to resume their position moments later. The bones have been in the earth for so long that some of them have softened, but they’re still hard enough that, when my steel meets them, it clatters up my arm and into my teeth.
There’s a savage battle cry, and Lysandra leaps to my right, stabbing one of the skeletons that snuck up on me while I was dealing with its counterpart. She jabs the dagger into the spot where the neck meets the skull, and the thing crumples.
“I told you they’re fucking zombies,” she cries and does the same thing to the one I’m fighting.
“How—” I grab her dagger and hiss when I accidentally touch the blade. Iron. By stabbing the creatures with iron, she severed the connection between the magic and the bones, making them return to their original state. “Very smart, princess.”
She beams and hands me the dagger before lifting a bow from the ground. “Make yourself useful,” she needles, shouldering a quiver and withdrawing an iron-tipped arrow.
“How many weapons did you pack?” I gawk as she strings the bow and starts attacking foes that are further away from us.
“More than you. Seriously, what kind of Fae goes into a battle without an iron weapon?” Her words are sharp, but her tone is light and teasing.
“You’ll run out of arrows soon enough, princess.” I start stabbing the skeletons closest to us with her dagger. “Then, what will you do?”
She shifts to show me her back, and the quiver is still full. “Magically refilling. Larisa’s idea. You really should have chosen her for your team.”
She’s not wrong. I make a mental note to thank Larisa when we’re done with this challenge. Even though she didn’t mean to, she may have saved my life. Both our lives.
We fight silently side by side, conserving our breath for battle. But the necromancers still have magic on their side, and for every being we vanquish, more arise. We can’t keep doing this forever. As it is, Lysandra’s arms are shaking and I’m drenched in sweat.
“Can you cover me?” I ask. She nods hastily as she restrings her bow. I drop to my knees and dig around my bag for the one thing I can think can help us.
“Puck?” Lysandra screams over the din of trampling feet and falling skeletons. I look up to see they are closer than they’ve ever gotten. “I hope you have a plan.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I swear, searching frantically.
I’m not dying in this fucking jungle.
Lysandra shoots arrows faster than I can register and manages to drive off the front line, but it won’t last long. Finally, my fingers brush against something warm. This was meant to be used overnight, in case I needed a fire to cook by or sleep next to, but this is more important.
“Princess,” I call, grabbing the glass case. “I need you to stay close to me.”
“Closer than I already am?” She’s starting to panic. I don’t blame her, I am too.
I shove the glass into my pocket as I stand and stab the ones closest to us in the neck. When I can, I steal arrows from her refilling quiver and throw them like spears. Dark and twisted magic coats the air. Necromancy in itself isn’t evil, but when used for this—its truly awful.
Finally, when there’s a very small reprieve, I stand directly behind Lysandra. “I’m going to do something,” I tell her. “And when I’m done, you need to run.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she cries. “We have a truce.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” I vow. “Promise you’ll run straight to the necromancers. Don’t hesitate.”
She growls, or something close to it, but agrees.
“Three,” I say, pulling the glass case from my pocket. The flame inside is glowing so hot it’s almost blue. “Two.” Skeletons are approaching faster and faster. My hand snakes around Lysandra’s waist and she, in turn, grabs my hand. I flip open the lid of the flame. “One.”
I launch the flame into the pack of skeletons. It soars like a comet and for a second, all time stops as the creatures watch the fire soar. I grab Lysandra roughly and pull her to the ground, shielding her body with mine and tucking my head down.
The flame lands with the force of a grenade, rippling the earth, the trees, the very court itself. Debris falls around us, pelting my back and arms as I keep Lysandra covered. I wince when a bone shard slices into my back, but I refuse to move until I know she’ll be safe.
The skeletons screech as they explode from the sheer force of the bomb. I risk a peek and see that those who survived the initial blast are quickly devoured by the hungry flames seeping from the blast site. “Now!” I bellow, releasing Lysandra and shoving her in the direction of the shocked necromancers, who watch as their creations go up in smoke.
Lysandra, to her credit, does not hesitate. I stay close to her, making sure she can hear the crunching of my feet so she doesn’t turn around. She tries a few times, but the jungle is perilous on its own, and she’s forced to look forward. In one burst, we cross the line of necromancers, heaving. The air is sweeter here, though still not pleasant. It’s less like decay and more like a gravesite covered in fresh flowers, but it’s better than smoke and I inhale the air greedily.
“Well done,” the lead necromancer says, stepping forward. All remaining skeletons drop in heaps where they are, and the other necromancers work to extinguish the flames and return the bones to their resting places. In no time at all, it will look like we were never here.
“I must admit,” the necromancer chuckles. It sounds like thousands of voices coalesced into one. Both ancient and young. Female and male. Life and death. “You navigated that far faster than we anticipated. We never thought you’d work together.”
One more way they tested our reasoning, forcing us to think differently and turn to our rival for help. Lysandra glances at me from beneath her lashes and I wink, bringing a blush to her already pink cheeks.
The necromancer hands us our scrolls at the same time. “Best of luck,” they say as one, then blink out of existence.
Lysandra collapses to her knees, bending forward until her head rests on the jungle floor. She digs her hands beneath the earth, grounding herself in our element. If I had my magic, flowers would spring around us, but I settle for deep breathing to calm my racing heart.
I drop beside her and place one hand on her shoulder, letting her know I’m here. I know we said our truce lasted until the end of this challenge, but it doesn’t feel right to leave yet. We can leave together and accomplish the same thing. There will be time to beat her after I make sure she’s okay.
With my other hand, I maneuver my pack, dig out a protein bar, and extend it to her. “When was the last time you ate, princess?” I ask. She’s still shaking beneath my hands.
She makes a sound I’m not sure how to classify, but is most like a squawk. When she sits up, dirt is smudged on her forehead and muddy tears streak down her face. She’s laughing.
My brow crinkles, which sends her into a fit of giggles. “I think I missed the joke,” I muse.
“It’s just—” she hiccups as she tries to get enough air into her lungs. “We just faced down necromancers and an army of zombies—”
“Still not accurate.”
“—and now you’re taking care of me. It’s like I entered the Twilight Zone.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
She breaks off in another fit of hysterics. I realize she’s in shock, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. Lysandra is…goddess, she’s breathtaking when she laughs.
After she calms down, she splashes water from her canteen on her face and hands and grabs the protein bar. After a bite, she extends it back to me, but I wave her off. Edina packed food enough for weeks based on the list she gave me; I can spare a protein bar.
We eat in companionable silence until the bugs that dissipated at the appearance of the necromancers return and we’re forced to stand. “We should read these,” she says, motioning to our discarded clues. I nod, turning to put on my pack.
“You’re bleeding,” she gasps
“I’m sure it’s—” I inhale sharply as she touches a sore spot I hadn’t noticed through all the adrenaline.
“A bone did this?” she asks, her hands gently tracing the edges. It’s a long cut, but based on her composure, I don’t think it’s deep. That, or she sees a way to get rid of me for good.
“It was something after the fireball.
The warmth of her hands disappears before I hear rustling. I turn as she pops up, holding a small vial. “Drink this,” she says, thrusting it into my hand. I recognize the potion immediately, it’s a common one that heals all manner of cuts and bruises. I can’t believe I didn’t think to bring something like this; I knew this trial would be dangerous.
I push it back into her hand. “You brought this for you.”
“By the goddess.” She uncorks the vial and shoves it back at me. “I’m not going to let you die from a festering wound. I’d much rather you be alive to witness my victory.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips at her dark humor. I coalesce, drinking the contents of the vial. She spins me around and waits as the potion takes effect; I feel the skin on my back knitting together.
“There,” she says, satisfied. “Now, put on a damn shirt before you tear your skin open again.”
“Careful, princess. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you care about me.” I do as she says and put my tunic back on. It’s still terribly hot in this court, but she has a point. The jungle is full of poisonous plants and bugs with stingers.
She rolls her eyes and opens the scroll. “When does this truce end, exactly?” she asks as I grab mine. “I’m thinking the next challenge will require us to leave the jungle…”
“Most likely.”
“We should probably extend it, then,” she offers. “Until we get out of here. I wouldn’t want you to accidentally get stuck in a spider’s web.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get swallowed by a snake.”
She shudders. “So, we agree? We’ll keep the truce until we get out of the jungle?”
“Agreed.”
I can’t explain the way my heart leaps into my throat when she smiles at me. Goddess, the level of control this female has over me. Thank fuck she doesn’t realize.
In unison, we open our scrolls and read.
The most popular inn in the realm holds your next clue
Ask the brownie, she’ll tell you what to do
They’re back to rhyming, I see. They really should be more consistent with the format of their clues.
Lysandra frowns. “I don’t know this inn,” she murmurs, then sighs. “You should go.”
Now, it’s my turn to frown. “You want me to leave you in the jungle?”
“I don’t even know what court this is in. It could take me days to find the damn thing. You shouldn’t waste that kind of advantage.”
I could. It would be so easy to leave Lysandra, or even to escort her to the portal and part ways there. There are a thousand ways I could leave her and gain the advantage. Instead, I find myself saying, “We agreed to the truce, and I’m a man of my word.”
Her mouth parts. I shouldn’t be surprised that she thinks so little of me, but it still makes me ache a little. “Come on, princess. While we walk, you can tell me how you got that stardust so quickly.”
Still wary, she starts walking the way we came—toward the portal. As predicted, the blast site is completely free of bones, all returned to the earth.
“Any time now,” I prompt.
Again, Lysandra laughs. “Have you ever been bitten by a vampyre?”