Chapter Four
Thankfully, some more thorough exploring of his little homestead revealed an actual, proper cave behind the waterfall, something right out of a storybook.
A few spells to control the moisture, and he had the perfect place to store almost everything, including the furniture, books, and other odds and ends that wouldn't fit in his cabin.
With that done, he went through everything, catalogued it, and then left a note for Euclid about what he'd be willing to trade to the witch and other mysterious occupants of the forest for other things he needed, or at least the supplies to make those things.
After some hesitation, he added one final request to the end. To repair a broken friendship. I was a fool. I'm sorry.
He secured the note to his door, then set to work on all the nuts, berries, and more that he'd gathered, working until he was sore and exhausted. The skins and furs would be ready in a few days, and the nuts and berries could be taken whenever Euclid came for them.
When he returned to the house, the note was gone from the door, and the books he'd offered to the witch were gone from the table. No note or anything had been left behind. It hurt, but he had only himself to blame.
Whatever. He didn't need the company of a living, breathing lump of sugar anyway.
He'd planned on being alone out here, and fool him for starting to think that might not be true.
Alone was what he knew best, despite a lifetime of trying to change that.
Look at all the good falling in love had done him.
No, alone was clearly the only thing he could manage to do right.
Stripping off his filthy clothes, he trudged to the pond to clean thoroughly, then returned naked to his house—only to find the nuts and berries gone.
Gritting his teeth, he headed inside, ate some smoked fish, nuts, and berries standing at the counter, then crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep, mercifully too exhausted to brood or dream.
The routine continued for most of two weeks, each day more depressing than the last, but he'd made his bed, and he would lie in it.
His relationships with his unseen trading partners continued to improve, so there was that.
Maybe someday he would have the time to find and meet them properly.
As he was clearly here in the forest to stay, it would only benefit him to build whatever relationships he could.
Though he had the feeling none of them would come close to the friendship he'd been building, despite his own protests, with Lord Sunshine himself.
He was out hunting some pheasants for Minali, the witch, when everything changed.
The forest went silent, and the pheasants he'd sighted were so desperate for cover that they fled right into a den that had clearly been made by their least favorite predator.
Abandoning the hunt, he slunk into the long, draping limbs of a Sorrowful Lady tree, crouching to ensconce himself in the lengthening shadows of dusk. He hadn't wanted to be out this late, but the pheasants had proven elusive, and he needed the job done so he could focus on other things tomorrow.
The forest remained ominously silent, and the back of his neck prickled now.
Only moments later, they stepped into view. Hunters, loaded for trouble. Crossbows, dark-tipped arrows that signaled they'd been enchanted in some way. Often for blood-letting or some type of tranquilizing effect. It was a cowardly way to hunt. Skilled hunters made clean kills.
They wore mail and even some plate, excessive for the vast majority of hunting, but necessary in especially dangerous areas or when hunting certain prey, where hands-on work was almost guaranteed.
Given they were in the Forbidden Forest at dusk, there was no telling what they were hunting. Something particular? Whatever they could get? Impossible to say. If they just wanted a basilisk or some of those nightmare-inducing spiders, fine.
But if they tried to go after Euclid or any of the harmless creatures always being poached for dark magic, like unicorns, they wouldn't be going home. They were fools for coming here at night, anyway.
He waited until they'd passed him by, then followed them, keeping well behind and off to the side, where they wouldn't immediately look should they suspect something. A good hunter would sense they were being followed. His mother had always known, and Dipak had developed the skill quickly.
These dumbasses didn't seem to notice anything. They moved more like soldiers than hunters. Mercenaries, then. Which meant they were being paid to kill or capture something. Paid enough to risk going into the Forbidden Forest at night.
Dipak had the sinking feeling he knew what they were looking for. Too bad for them they weren't going to find it.
Unfortunately, he was going to have to make this quick, because he shouldn't be wandering the woods at this hour either. He'd meant to already be safely ensconced in a high tree by now.
He could wait and watch, see what they did, if they had the sense to make camp and wait until morning or something, when he could come back and tail them longer.
But if they were hunting Euclid and had come in prepared to fight their way through the woods at the most dangerous hour, he had to err on the side of caution.
Flint arrows were useless against mail and plate, but they weren't wearing helmets. Careless mistake, likely born of arrogance.
Nocking an arrow, he drew back, lined up his shot, and fired.
The man at the rear of the group died instantly from an arrow to the back of the head. Only the sound of his falling drew the attention of the others, a delay just long enough he killed the second one. Two down, four to go.
He immediately repositioned, using the growing dark to his advantage.
It was possible one of them also had moon eyes, but unlikely.
Soldiers like these usually favored augments like strength or durability.
Sometimes speed, but that particular augment tended to be extremely hard on the body and often killed those who possessed it.
As they crept toward where he'd fired his last shot, struggling by the light of, to be fair, good lanterns, he took out numbers three and four. Two left.
The fight became irrelevant, however, when the remaining two were pounced by a basilisk, a nasty, enormous centipede-like monstrosity that paralyzed its victims with venom and then consumed them at its leisure. Not a pleasant way to go.
Moving closer, he put the two men out of their misery. The basilisk rounded sharply and immediately ran at him, but an arrow in its eye put that problem to rest. And the surfeit of corpses distracted everything else nearby.
Taking a chance, he turned and started running for the house. He couldn't camp here, or even nearby, with all the blood and feeding. And by the time he found somewhere suitable, he'd be nearly home anyway.
Thankfully, he made it there with little interruption, his eyes providing an advantage that drew him even with most of the predators about, at least in that regard.
Unfortunately, there were already people at his house. More hunters. Two groups, which meant there were likely more groups, a full team split into four or five. Damn it.
He couldn't see how many were in this group. Three were outside, and by the light and movement in the house, two more. That was five. The other group had been six, so he had to assume there was one unaccounted for.
Damn it all to the frozen depths.
He let his arrows fly, three in rapid succession. Made it harder to be accurate, but he killed two and injured the third, which was enough to draw out the other…
Three, and one of them was a Fiendish Hound. Well, that fucking explained where number six went.
It spotted him in an instant, roaring more than barking as it came at him, dark flames scorching the grass. Dipak dropped his bow and drew his hunting knife, because a sword wouldn't be of any use here. Even the knife was a joke, but it was all he had.
He threw up an arm as the Hound lunged, letting that take the damage, biting back a scream of pain. He plunged the knife into its throat, but since it wasn't enchanted to damage spectral-class monsters, the damage was minimal at best, only enough to piss it off.
Dipak kicked and twisted, stabbed and stabbed until it finally let go of his mangled arm. It made a noise that vaguely resembled a laugh as it looked at him, dripping fire that risked setting the whole fucking forest aflame.
"Finish it," a voice barked out. "Stop playing."
The Hound lunged again, and Dipak managed to kick it before rolling away and regaining his feet—only in time for it to get its teeth into his shoulder, far too close to his neck. He screamed as agony shot through him like hot knives. Everything was hot, so fucking hot, he was going—
Suddenly the pain was gone, the hound screaming before it slammed into the cliff beside the waterfall and let out a last, horrible cry before going silent.
Dipak turned and let out a sobbing laugh. Euclid, in his true form. After so many years of seeing only dull color, to see a shocking, vibrant blue was almost painful. "You're beautiful," he said, and then passed out.
He woke to a crackling fire and the smell of mint. Stared up at his own ceiling as he tried to sort everything out.
Mercenaries. Fiendish Hound. Where the fuck had they even found one of those? People who could shift their entire body to a different form were rare enough to begin with, never mind the ones that mastered a spectral form.
Euclid. Euclid had saved him. His heart sped up recalling that moment.
Pushing back the blankets, he slowly sat up, left arm stiff and sore but a long way from the mangled state it had been when he'd collapsed. The skin of his shoulder was still red and tender. Hard, fast healing. It usually faded after an hour or so, so he hadn't been out long.