Secrets
Hazel stared in horror at the gobkin before her, his wart-riddled skin and horrendous underbite stealing the show as he snarled at her. Large tusks protruded from his lower jaw, and she shuddered at the thought of those tusks ripping into her flesh. Or Slaide’s.
Slaide was still laying on the forest floor, nearly paralyzed.
The gobkin turned from Hazel and approached Slaide warily, as though he knew what the man was capable of.
Hazel wondered if this had been a planned ambush.
Either Slaide and these creatures had a less than pleasant history, or they were going to pounce on the first unsuspecting travelers to ride through this territory, no matter who they were.
Regardless, she needed to move. He was still far enough away from Slaide that she wasn’t overly concerned with skewering the wrong target with a wayward shot, so she made her decision and nocked her last arrow.
As she steadied her breath and prepared her shot, something rustled behind her.
Before she could so much as peek over her shoulder, something barreled into her, causing the arrow to loose prematurely, finding itself embedded in a nearby birch tree.
She rolled over, grappling with her gobkin attacker in order to get onto her back, where she could better defend herself.
The beast lunged, claws swiping and teeth gnashing as she tried to push it away with her feet.
But it was relentless, taking blow after blow to its face and soft body, completely unbothered in its pursuit of destroying her.
Deep down, Hazel was losing control, panic and uncertainty creeping in.
She no longer had the upper hand in this fight.
She chanced a glance at Slaide and found the other remaining gobkin still circling him, taunting, playing with its food.
Slaide’s body was twitching, his feet trying to move as though the poison was slowly wearing off, but they were both running out of time.
Pain lanced through her forearm, her thoughts cut short as the gobkin clamped down on her.
Flesh and muscle gave way easier than wet parchment, and she was certain the bone would soon snap.
She would not die this way. Could not die this way.
Then something occurred to her: she had another weapon at her disposal.
Hazel didn’t know what she was doing, but she had to try.
She closed her eyes and focused inward, trying to find that deep, warm light she’d gathered in the past. She pushed past the pain of the gobkin above her, shredding her arm to get to her face and neck.
Focus. She dove deeper and deeper into her mind, wondering if it was possible to get stuck in one’s own self-conscious.
And then, like a beacon of hope, there it was.
Hazel grabbed it fiercely, a fine thread of power, and began her ascent toward the surface. As she drew the power upward with her, it grew in size and strength until there was no more room. Nowhere for it to go.
She erupted into a ball of light, all the energy she’d built up blasting outward from her body.
The gobkin was caught in the blast and thrown against a nearby tree, where she heard his body crack before he fell into a limp pile on the ground.
It hadn’t occurred to her to check Slaide’s proximity to the blast before she’d essentially detonated herself, but she was pleased to see she hadn’t obliterated him.
Better still was the sight of Slaide—mobile enough to finally be able to fight for himself—landing a killing blow to his assailant.
He drove his dagger in hard as the gobkin’s body came down upon him, spraying him with black blood.
Its form went limp against Slaide’s chest with a gurgle.
Trapped under the corpse, Slaide coughed and gagged at its stench.
Hazel tasted the familiar burnt flavor of charred ash, just as she’d experienced in her previous magical outbursts.
She righted herself and made her way over to Slaide.
She grabbed hold of the dead gobkin by its shoulder, trying not to breathe in the reek of rotting flesh emanating from its body as she lifted it off him.
“Gods, I hate those things,” he groaned, taking in large breaths of untainted air. “More a nuisance than anything, but they’re full of tricks.” He looked up at Hazel. “And specialize in ambushes.”
After a few more moments and with Hazel’s help, Slaide scooted back to the base of a tree and rested his back against it. As she was aiding him, she caught Slaide staring at the torn skin along her forearm. At how the injuries were less severe than they should be.
She expected to see bleeding, torn flesh. Instead, she found an injury that appeared several days old. What in the name of the gods… I’m healing? She met Slaide’s eyes with her own, and a smile slowly formed on his face.
“Well, that’s certainly interesting.”
“Mhmm,” she mumbled. Time to talk about something else. “So,” she said, eyeing his immobile legs. “How long until the rest of this reverses?”
His gaze was burning a hole in her arm, apparently reluctant to let this go, before he sighed and accepted her change of conversation. “Any moment now, if the rest of me is any indication. Those buggers must have developed a new formula; I’ve never had it last this long.”
Hazel’s eyes shot open. “You mean to tell me this has happened before?”
“First, pick your jaw up off the floor. Not that surprising, is it? Second, yes. More times than I care to recount, much less admit to. Always minor, though. While we’re waiting, I think I’m the one who should be questioning you.”
Oh, this will be good. She folded her arms. “Go on…”
“You can shoot. Quite well, in fact. You never said you could shoot.”
“You never asked.” It was her turn to smirk at him.
“Really? And why would I? You didn’t exactly strike me as the kind of woman who would be able to draw a bow, much less pick off our enemies.”
“What was it you said to me before? I need to stop taking things at face value all the time? Maybe you should take your own advice. My father taught me some basic survival skills, should I ever need them. Plus, our farm is on the edge of town, half a day’s ride from the market.
It’s just easier to source our meat from the woods when we need it.
And he and I enjoyed the occasional target practice duel.
I only beat him once, and I’m still not convinced he didn’t let me win out of pity. ”
“Huh. Well, I guess I’m glad he did. Wasn’t planning on giving away a life debt anytime soon, and especially not to you, but I wasn’t getting out of this mess in one piece if you hadn’t been here.”
Hazel blushed and averted her eyes.
“And on that note, I guess I should thank you for coming. Had you stayed in bed, I would probably be a dead man.” There was no sarcasm. No ire.
Compliments from Slaide made her uncomfortable, and she couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it the questionable authenticity? The way his compliments made her feel warm inside when they absolutely should not? She cleared her throat, ready to change the subject.
“So,” she said, gesturing to the corpses around them, “I’m assuming these are what you were hunting?”
He shook his head. “I wish it were that simple, but no. That was just a chance happening, though if I’m honest, ambushes aren’t all that uncommon out here. What I’m searching for… It’s not any sort of beast or creature.”
Hazel kept her eyes locked on him, waiting for him to explain. She was growing tired of his cryptic half-answers. As though feeling the weight of her stare, he looked up from where he was watching his still-motionless legs and caught her gaze.
“What?” he questioned.
“What’s going on? What are you looking for out here?”
“I’ve already said more than I should have.
” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Someone, something, is tearing rifts in the Border. I’ve been—unofficially—tasked with tracking the rifts and closing them when possible.
Usually, there are signs of increased magical creature activity near these rifts. That, or the beasts themselves.”
“And the gobkins?”
“Shouldn’t have been on this side.”
“There’s a rift nearby?” Hazel thought she might be catching on.
His demeanor shifted, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling something over. “Possibly. Listen, Hazel. I should probably take you back. This has already amounted to more than I was expecting, and my mistake could have cost you your life.”
“Why do you care? I’m honestly surprised you’ve let me live this long. Seems it would be easy enough to let me fall prey to something like this.” She nudged the smelly creature with her boot.
Slaide shrugged. “I find you interesting. Most people with power chase it. Use it. Bleed kingdoms with it. You’re dangerous, Hazel, but you’re an enigma. I can’t figure you out, and that interests me.”
“You’re a shit witch hunter,” she shot back, instantly regretting it.
“You’re probably right,” he said, staring at her a moment too long before letting out a sharp whistle.
He was answered by the thundering of hooves pounding the ground, and Phllip and Nanna came charging around the bend. She turned to face Slaide, then, and found him maneuvering his legs, attempting to pull them under himself. Stubborn ass. She rolled her eyes and stepped in to help.
And despite his burning pride, he let her. By the time the horses had settled, he’d nearly regained his strength. Still, Hazel doubted he could sit astride Phillip without falling off. He could hardly stand.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” She put her hands on her hips.
He waved her off. “This boy takes good care of me. I’ve had less control over my body returning home from a long night out than I do now. He makes sure I get home in one piece.”
“And how, exactly, do you plan on getting up there?” Hazel questioned, hands on her hips, a parent watching their toddler about to do something reckless.