Chapter Twenty Riela
Chapter Twenty
Riela
Dawn arrived despite the fact that I’d barely slept. I’d stayed up too late looking through the books I’d taken from the library.
And while I knew more about the possible monsters lurking in the area, including the Blood King’s chagri, the books on magic
had been sadly lacking. Once again, I’d tried following the instructions in the pages and had gotten exactly nowhere.
None of the books had mentioned the dais in the courtyard, magical bindings, or what it meant to be a focus.
I rubbed my tired eyes, then dragged myself out of bed with a groan. My original tunic and trousers were clean and mended,
but the fabric was rough against my skin. Apparently I adapted to luxury with alarming speed.
Garrick and Grim were waiting for me in the kitchen. Garrick was dressed in dark, supple armor, and he had a sword sheathed
at his waist. He radiated danger. Even without knowing that he was Etheri, if I saw him in the woods at night, I would back
away slowly and hope he didn’t notice me.
The Etheri king nodded a curt greeting and handed me a dense biscuit wrapped in a napkin and a canteen full of water. His
gaze flickered over my outfit and he scowled. “Where are your boots?”
“In the wardrobe with the rest of my borrowed clothes. Thank you for letting me use them while I was here.”
Magic rose, and the boots and cloak appeared on the bench next to me. “They were a gift,” Garrick growled. When I started
to protest, Garrick pointed at my threadbare shoes. “We will travel faster if you’re properly prepared.”
I very nearly let pride goad me into a stupid decision, but I sat and changed into the boots with a quiet grumble.
In truth, leaving them behind had been agonizing.
But if I was able to leave the forest, returning to my village with fancy new boots would lead to more questions than I was prepared to
answer.
Once I was ready, Garrick led our little party out into the cold morning air. I raised my magic, trying to feel what might
be waiting for us in the forest, but the castle’s silver magic blotted out everything else.
Garrick glanced sharply at me. “Once we are out of the castle’s protections, don’t use your magic unless there is no other
option.”
I snorted. “If my magic is our last resort, then we’re in deep trouble.”
“I will keep you safe, but it will be easier if we pass unnoticed. Your magic is a beacon for Feylan’s forces, and chagri
are the least of what he could muster against us.”
I nodded before looking around with a shiver. Two chagri were enough for a lifetime, so I’d do whatever I could to prevent
another encounter.
We crossed the bridge in silence, Garrick leading. As soon as we entered the forest, he turned to Grim. “Scout.”
The wolf disappeared into the trees, vanishing from sight far quicker than made me comfortable. What else was hiding in the dim shadows?
Garrick set off at a brisk pace, and I stumbled into motion behind him. His cloak blended in remarkably well, and I had the
slightly panicked thought that if I looked away, then he, too, would vanish.
We walked for several hours before the trees thinned enough to give me a glimpse of the sun. I stopped and frowned. I’d always
had a decent sense of direction, and the subtle unease I’d felt all morning finally made sense: we were going the wrong way.
We were heading nearly due south, but my village was west.
I looked for Garrick, but he’d already disappeared into the trees, so I decided this was the perfect spot for a break. If
he didn’t come back, then I’d attempt to make my way west on my own.
I’d barely had time to open my canteen when Garrick stalked from the trees, a scowl on his face. “What are you doing?”
“Why are we heading south?”
He accepted the change of subject without breaking stride. “It’s the closest border.”
“Which Feylan must know, right? It’d be far easier to prevent you leaving there than the whole forest. We should try—”
“This isn’t Feylan’s magic,” Garrick interrupted with a shake of his head. “It’s far older, and far more powerful. I’ve surveyed
the entire border looking for weak points. There aren’t any.”
“But the king used to send mages to fight the forest’s monsters.” It had been years and years ago, back when I was little
more than a child, but I still remembered the procession that had come through our village.
Garrick’s eyebrows rose. “And how many returned?”
I frowned in thought. Had they returned? I didn’t know, but now that I thought about it, I didn’t remember a procession going the other way.
A single, quiet chuff echoed through the forest and Garrick tensed. He silently motioned down, and when I dropped to the ground, he draped his
cloak over me. “No matter what happens,” he breathed into my ear, “do not move. They will not find you if you stay still,
say nothing, and suppress your magic.”
He lifted the oversize hood and draped it over my head, cutting off my vision and hiding my face. The fabric smelled like
him, faintly minty but with an earthy undertone.
I heard the quiet hiss of a sword being drawn, then nothing at all.
The silence rang in my ears as my imagination ran wild. Grim had sounded the alarm, but what had he seen? Something that worried
Garrick enough to leave me behind. I didn’t doubt that I would be safe while the Etheri king lived, but what happened if he
died? Would the cloak’s magic fail?
I carefully drew my dagger from its sheath without disturbing the fabric surrounding me. I clutched the hilt with trembling fingers and forced myself to wait. I silently counted my breaths, both for something to focus on and because time had a way of warping in the dark.
I was just over a hundred when moonlight magic rose in the far distance, strong enough to send a shudder through the ground.
What was happening?
Did Garrick need help?
I was still trying to decide if I would be more hindrance than help—probably—when a sound like fur brushing against dry grass caught my attention. A moment later, dark red magic pulsed somewhere in
the clearing. Without using my own magic, I couldn’t estimate the distance, but it had been close enough for me to sense it.
I clenched the dagger and tried to breathe as quietly as possible.
“I know you’re here,” a light male voice called. He was farther away than I’d thought, but the relief was short-lived as his
magic swept through the area.
“King Roseguard has sent me to rescue you,” he continued, softly cajoling. “Don’t believe the lies Stoneguard has fed you.
Feylan would never hurt you. You’ll be treated like a royal guest. You’ll want for nothing. And the Blood King’s accommodations
are far better than a dusty stone castle.”
He was getting closer, and his words were making my head light. No, not the words—the magic. His magic was coating the clearing, and the fact that Garrick hadn’t returned meant he was being delayed elsewhere.
I couldn’t block my ears without moving and giving away my position, and I couldn’t use my magic to protect me—even if I knew
how, which I didn’t—without the same consequence.
I tried counting, silently reciting stories, and focusing on my breathing, but nothing helped.
When the words and magic filled my head to the point where they started sounding reasonable and I vibrated with the need to move, I slid the back of my hand against the blade of the dagger in a desperate attempt to hold on.
The pain was sharp and instant, and for a brief moment, clarity returned.
Where was Garrick? He’d been gone for too long. Something was wrong.
But I had more immediate problems. The red mage was systematically sweeping through the clearing, and he was getting dangerously
close to my hiding spot. Would the cloak protect me if he literally tripped over me?
I clutched the dagger tighter as his magic began to seep into my mind again. If he tripped on me, I’d stab him and hope for
the best. Until then, I’d do whatever it took to keep him out of my head.
My hand was sticky with blood and little more than a throbbing mass of pain when a ferocious growl finally rolled through
the clearing. I silently sobbed in relief before remembering that Grim wasn’t the only predator in the woods.
Then moonlight magic crashed down around me in a furious wave.
“N . . . no,” the red mage pleaded, his voice weirdly muffled.
Garrick, if it was Garrick out there, said nothing. Something heavy hit the ground—a body?—then an eerie silence descended.
I stayed frozen in place. Was this another trap?
The faint scuff of a boot was all the notice I got before someone pulled my hood back, blinding me with the midday sun. I
swung wildly with the dagger, but strong fingers clamped around my wrist before I made contact.
“It’s me,” Garrick barked, his voice rough. He dropped my wrist and went back to peeling the cloak away. “Where are you bleeding?”
“Left hand,” I choked out. “He was trying to get in my head. Pain helped.”
Garrick cursed darkly, but his hands gentled. I closed my eyes against the sight of my bloody hand as much as the blinding
sun. “If I give you the magic, will you heal me? Please?”
I hissed as he carefully lifted my left hand. The cuts weren’t deep, but they stung with every movement.
Moonlight magic swept through me, easing the pain and clearing my head. He hadn’t used my power, and I blinked up at him in confusion, only to freeze at the sight of his face.
He was splattered with blood, and his eyes blazed with silver fury.
It was an effort not to flinch away, and I took a slow breath to steady my nerves. “Are you okay?”
“I am uninjured,” Garrick replied, his voice flat. “But I have used a great deal of magic, and Feylan knows we’re here. We
need to move.”
“I can give you some of my magic—”
“No.” Garrick’s tone was flinty, but he helped me to my feet with gentle care.
I started to shrug off his cloak, but he stopped me. “Keep it, you may need it again.”
“But don’t you need it?” I asked.
“I am more suited to offense.” He held up his hand, and it took me a second to notice the silver claws that tipped each finger.
I reached for his hand and the claws disappeared without so much as a whisper of magic. He took my arm and pulled me into
motion, but I glanced over my shoulder. “Should we go back?”
He grunted and shook his head. “Too far. We’re nearly to the border, and it will take time for Feylan to send more people
because they can’t travel through the ether on my lands.”
“These are your lands?” I asked in surprise.
His mouth compressed. “They once were. Some of the protections remain.”
He moved quickly enough that I nearly had to jog to keep up, so I dropped my questions and focused on breathing. Despite moving
through a forest filled with branches and underbrush, my borrowed cloak didn’t snag on a single thing. I couldn’t decide if
it was something inherent about Garrick’s magic, or if even the woods were afraid of an Etheri king, but it made traveling
far easier.
Grim was a shadow between the trees, flitting in and out of sight sometimes between one step and the next.
We moved in silence for another hour, maybe two, before the trees began to thin, revealing distant fields. We’d made it to
the edge of the forest, and excitement fought trepidation.
Garrick slowed, then gestured me forward. “The boundary is just ahead. Can you cross it?”
I couldn’t sense anything at all, so I stepped forward cautiously. I passed him and kept going. Five steps. Ten. A relieved
smile crossed my lips. Garrick had been wrong.
I moved quicker, heading for the open field, eager to see if I could spot any familiar landmarks. But as I approached the
last line of trees, invisible strings tightened around my chest. I ignored them, even as they compressed my lungs.
I was nearly there, just a few more steps and I’d be free. I lifted my foot, but I couldn’t move it forward.
No.
It wasn’t possible.
I clenched my teeth, fighting my body, fighting the entire fucking forest, but I couldn’t take a single step. I pressed a
hand against the invisible wall, but unlike the one that had barred me from the bridge, this one didn’t seem to have any deterrent
capability. Fine. There was more than one way to solve a problem. I backed up and raced toward the border. Garrick shouted a warning, but he
was too late.
I passed the boundary and fell into the grass. I had one blissful moment of triumph before the pain hit. My body lit in agony
and I screamed.
Magical fire raced through my veins, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but scream my death into the
air.
Strong fingers snagged my ankle and hauled me back into the trees. The fire died, but not quickly. I curled in on myself.
Everything hurt, but when I risked a glance at my hands, they looked completely fine.
Garrick lifted me into his arms, and I moaned in protest.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He was trembling, and his breathing indicated pain.
I wanted to ask what was wrong, but it was all I could do to keep myself from slipping into unconsciousness. I curled into
a miserable ball of pain and despair, and let Garrick carry me deeper into the woods.