Chapter Twenty-Seven Riela
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Riela
The sun had already sunk behind the horizon on the second day of my trek when the forest quieted around me, turning unnaturally
still. The trip had been surprisingly easy so far, and I’d gotten lax in checking my surroundings. I cautiously swept my magic
out into a wider ring and hoped Garrick’s flower circlet was doing its job.
The sweep revealed a blip of orange magic behind me and to the right, on the very edge of my senses. I moved forward, stepping
lightly, and the orange magic followed.
Something was stalking me.
Fear shivered up my spine, and I drew my dagger as I pushed my magic wider. The space around me was mostly clear, but there
were several points of magic farther out, most of them orange.
A group of somethings was stalking me.
Between the information I’d found in Garrick’s library and local lore, only one creature I knew of had orange magic and traveled
in packs: chuyari. The giant reptiles were as big as cattle with razor-sharp teeth and claws. They also had far too much intelligence—and
savagery.
They were carnivores, and they had no qualms about attacking humans, especially when they outnumbered the human by six to
one. If the hunter had been attacked by chuyari, he never would’ve made it out of the trees.
Trying to physically fight them off was a sure way to end up dead, and my magic was too unreliable to trust. I could climb
a tree and wait for them to lose interest, or I could run like hell and hope they were too far away to catch me, since they
were sprinters, not long-distance runners.
The book in Garrick’s library had recommended running. Local lore recommended getting right with your saint of choice—and quickly.
I tightened my grip on the dagger and opted to run. I kept my magical senses wide open, so I knew the moment the nearest chuyari
started charging after me. If it caught me, I’d fight, futile though it might be.
I’d only made it a few steps when one of the farthest orange blips disappeared, and the others swarmed the area. Even the
one closest to me turned back with a faint snarl that raised the hair on my arms. Too close. I whispered a prayer of thanks to any saint who was listening and kept sprinting. I didn’t want anything to do with whatever
had drawn their attention.
The area in front of me was clear, and I ran until the orange magic fell far enough behind that I could no longer sense it—then
I ran some more.
The burning stitch in my side flared so brightly that my lungs seized, and I stumbled to a stop, gasping for air. My chest
throbbed with an urgent demand for the oxygen needed to feed the frantic pace of my heart. I sucked in a breath, coughed it
back out, then repeated the process until I could breathe.
Mostly.
Now that I could hear past my gasping breath and throbbing pulse, the forest was still too quiet. I swept my magic through
the area, but it appeared clear. My instincts were screaming a warning, though, so I focused harder.
And there, hidden in the trees, a faint orange smudge was stalking closer, barely noticeable against the magic of the forest.
I hadn’t outrun the chuyari after all—or this one had been lying in wait.
The tree at my back didn’t have any branches low enough to climb, and the stitch in my side meant I couldn’t run again. Fighting
was my only option, so I gathered my magic and hoped it would be enough.
The chuyari slid from the twilight gloom, its dark, scaled, lizard-like body only slightly bigger than a large dog—a juvenile. But even this youngling was dangerous enough.
It scented the air, then opened its mouth to reveal the sharp, serrated teeth crowded inside.
“Go away,” I whispered. “Go away, go away, go away.” The dagger shook in my hand. I’d have better luck using it on myself,
but that wasn’t a path I was prepared to take. If I was going to die, then I’d die fighting.
I raised my left hand and tried to summon the spear of ice that had saved my life once before. Nothing happened.
The chuyari’s head tilted, and its muscles bunched as it prepared to strike. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It charged, and I dove away, hitting the ground hard, but it was even faster than the chagri had been. The beast spun before
I could rise, and I lifted my left arm as a sacrifice so I could stab it with my right. Just before its teeth closed around
my flesh, magic pulsed and ice encased my arm from wrist to elbow.
And even the chuyari’s powerful jaws couldn’t break through to the skin below.
I blinked away the shock and swung my right hand up with as much force as I could muster. The dagger glanced harmlessly off
the chuyari’s tough scales, and I screamed in frustration.
The monster shook its head, rattling me like a doll. Pain lanced up my shoulder and neck before exploding behind my eyes.
It might not be able to bite through the ice, but it could still kill me.
“I survived a furious Etheri sovereign, and I’ll survive you, too,” I snarled as it shook me again.
The ice encasing my arm cracked.
Magic boiled under my skin, and I dropped the dagger and slammed my hand against the beast’s side, driven by the desperate
desire to live. Ice spread from my fingers. The chuyari squealed and tried to pull away, but the ice was quicker.
In a matter of heartbeats, the creature was frozen solid.
Weariness smashed into me, and I wobbled, even though I was already on the ground.
With a frozen chuyari attached to my arm.
The ice encasing my forearm refused to dissolve, and a panicked giggle slipped past my lips. I was going to be the first mage
in the history of mages to give myself frostbite with magic—assuming another monster didn’t come along and make a meal of
me while I was anchored in place by this one.
But the ice wasn’t cold. Or, at least, my arm wasn’t cold. The chuyari’s body was as cold as expected, but my arm felt like it was wrapped in heavy cloth.
I took a deep breath and tried to find calm. My magic seemed to react to my emotions, so if I calmed, then maybe it would,
too.
It took longer than I would’ve liked, but eventually, the heavy ice around my forearm dissolved enough for me to pry my arm
out of the frozen chuyari’s mouth. Once I’d put a few wobbly steps between me and the beast, the rest of the ice disappeared.
The weariness, however, remained.
But I’d fought a chuyari and emerged victorious with only a few small scratches where its teeth had cracked through the ice.
It could’ve been so much worse.
I carefully swept my magic through the area, but I couldn’t sense anything else nearby, even with extra concentration that
made my head swim. I’d survived, but I needed to put distance between me and the rest of the pack.
I retrieved my dagger, then summoned a tiny light and kept it close to the ground. It flickered as exhaustion tugged at me,
but I gritted my teeth and the light stabilized. The shadows around me deepened as my eyes adjusted to the illumination, but
breaking a leg would be a sure way to get eaten. Slowly, the normal sounds of the forest returned as the twilight slid into
darkness. I kept my magic high, but I couldn’t sense anything nearby.
So when I caught a glint of white ahead, I froze. There, sitting directly in my path, was another white handkerchief holding a bowl of stew and a plate with a single, perfect sticky bun on it.
My stomach rumbled, tired of the travel biscuits. This was the third meal that I’d found waiting for me. I’d declined the
other two out of caution, but this one had to be from Garrick. How had he gotten so close?
And why hadn’t he helped me with the chuyari?
Unless . . . he had. Something—or someone—had drawn off the initial pack.
Another careful sweep of my magic proved that there weren’t any magic sources nearby—Etheri or otherwise.
I eyed the meal, torn. If it was from Garrick, then it was likely safe. But what if some other magical creature could read
my thoughts or make an illusion that just looked like what I wanted? More than one human had been snared by food in an Etheri trap, and I couldn’t risk it.
I bowed to the forest. “Thank you again, but I cannot accept. Please understand.”
I gave the food a wide berth as I passed. At least my canteen had been refilling itself every time I replaced the cap. I didn’t
know how long the enchantment would last, but for now, I wasn’t going to die of dehydration.
The travel biscuits were dense and tough, but they were surprisingly filling. I nibbled on one as I walked, then washed it
down with a deep drink of water. Shrouded in my little cocoon of light, I finally faced the truth I’d been putting off: I
was not suited to surviving in the forest on my own.
I’d done okay in the village, where I could work and garden and barter for the things I couldn’t make for myself. I’d had
my own water pump and a sturdy cottage to protect me from the elements.
Here, I had nothing. If the forest wouldn’t let me leave, then I was as good as dead unless I could harness my magic on demand.
And so far, that hadn’t gone well for me. I’d survived . . . but only just.
It was late afternoon on the third day when I finally got close enough to sense the faintest echo of my own magic ahead—the
village and surrounding area still carried traces of power from where I’d diverted the flood. I hadn’t noticed it while living
there, but now longing pierced my heart. This felt like home.
It took another hour to find the place where I’d entered the woods. I slowed as the trees began to thin. The afternoon sun
slanted in under their high branches, dappling the forest floor with light, and the meadow beyond still bore the tracks from
the blacksmith’s wagon. So few days had passed, but it felt like a lifetime—and everything had changed.
I stopped well short of the forest’s edge. There was no one in sight. Hector and the other hunters spent much of their time
in the woods, but perhaps they were waiting to see if I succeeded in killing the monster before they returned.