37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
I don’t turn around to look back at Zyon because, as Lazzus told me, the end has begun.
There’s no time for doubt or worry. Everything is on the line.
Florian, Agatha, Yedda, and my mother all need me to break this curse.
There was never a luxurious life waiting for me at the end of winter.
The stakes aren’t even my family alone anymore.
Everyone in the castle needs me, and I’d very much like to see Zyon again.
Several griffins fly overhead, but none swoop to attack.
It seems the cloak is working as Lazzus said it would.
The path wraps around the mountain at varied angles, and trees are sparse at first. They narrow the path, and after a moment’s hesitation, I step into darkness with the firefly ring guiding my way.
It’s something I hide up my sleeve when at all possible so it doesn’t act as a beacon to anything lurking in the darkness.
There’s a shift in the air. The color pulses into something grey and increases until I’m sure there is water close, though I can’t be confident on the direction. As I walk, it moves to the left, but I keep straight ahead since I don’t need water at the moment.
The creaking to my right is subtle, like the wind moves through the tree branches, but there’s not even a slight breeze.
I hurry past while trying to keep focused on the sounds of the forest. Insects buzz, and birds chirp.
Everything is the same as I’ve heard all my life in the woods around my childhood home.
The creaking comes from another tree, and I expect it to be the false dryads that Zyon told me about.
I go over the lessons on how to defeat them and creep forward as the cracking grows louder.
My eyes follow the ripple to the left, and it distracts me for a moment.
That’s all it takes for three trees to split open and massive swarms to burst out.
I stifle my scream as they fly straight for me.
They aren’t something Zyon ever covered in our lessons, so I have no idea how to defeat them or what they even are.
They merge to create three enormous creatures with red eyes.
The first looks like a topiary carved into a sinister shadow creature with leaves covering a darkness that is more severe than the one created by the surrounding trees.
The second is the same but appears comprised of hundreds of blossoms, and the third is covered in bark.
All of their skin doesn’t quite fit together with small gaps between each buzzing insect.
They barrel after me, and all I can think to shake a swarm is the water the ripples indicate is near.
I charge toward the lake, pointing my ring at the ground directly in front of me to keep from tripping on rocks and branches while hoping I’m not drawing a dozen more creatures toward my light.
My gift of distinguishing colors is my greatest hope, and I leap over a boulder as my blessed irises lead me to the water they promise.
The damp rocks are slippery, and I try to jump between them, but the mud is almost worse at helping me balance.
I’m knocked onto the ground, and the blow steals my breath.
The swarms swallow me, and I no longer try to stop my screams as they sting.
I roll onto my stomach to keep most of my skin protected by my clothing and roll the mud onto my face.
I cake it all around any exposed skin. The tiny creatures find a way up my pants.
I’m on fire like someone is putting matches out on my calves, thighs, and back.
I reach into my bag and feel for the vial I want.
Ivelle scratching numbers into the lids with her cat claws may be my salvation, and I memorized which remedy or weapon went with each number.
My fingers and hands endure stings as I search my bag for vial fifty-five.
It helps I also memorized where I placed their order.
I flip onto my back and get the lid off at the same time.
The buzzes turn to sizzles as I throw the powder at the swarm.
I take out many of them, and it scares the others enough that many more flee.
Some remain and continue to sting, but there’s enough of a break between them that I can move.
Everywhere on my body is in agony, and I crawl toward the water I know has to be ahead.
The buzzing grows louder every so often, so I have to take a break to throw more powder on the swarms who take forever to catch the hint that they should die.
It annoys me I’ve used so much powder on them when I should be grateful that I have the powder to begin with, but I’m not in the most gracious mood.
Rather, I’m pretty angry at whatever magic or entity is responsible for this insufferable curse.
The air grows damp and heavy, encouraging me to keep going.
I’m too swollen with burning stings to tell if they are still occurring.
I break through tall grass and see the most wonderful and horrific sight of a lake.
The cold water is a reprieve for my stings, and the swarms can’t reach me when I duck my head under the water.
There’s not a second that I can fully relax with water creatures being some of the deadliest types.
The mud washes off me, and I shake from the pain.
The journey is off to the worst possible start, and there is way more mountain to trek up.
The swarms finally give up and allow me to emerge from the water.
I’m disgruntled at how much skin salve I already have to use up, but I won’t be taking any more steps until the burning and itching are eased.
So much time is wasted on waiting for my stings to calm enough to continue, but I get myself to my feet and head back to the path.
It takes me a little while to find it, and after wandering for a bit, I spot the clear break in the heavy woods.
My spine tingles and a familiar whistle howls behind me, barely noticeable, but I heard the sound a hundred times in the imaginary cave.
I stay completely still, so when the whoosh of hair prickles my neck, I spin around and stab right into the throat of the banshee.
Her black eyes are like boulders, and her jaw unhinges to widen her mouth far above normal limits.
I twist the knife and move it all around to shred her voice box.
Her disturbingly long nails, which are little daggers themselves, slice at me.
I yank out my weapon and kick her away from me.
She claws at me, keeping her mouth open to scream, but only gurgles trickle out.
She flails and stills. Using the sword Zyon gave me, I cut off her head and kick it down a small hill.
Whistles strike the air on either side of me, and I run back for the water.
Nails scrape my neck, and I drop onto the ground, rolling onto my back and stabbing up when the second banshee comes at me.
My blade misses the throat, and the banshees unhinge their jaws to scream.
While they put on their dramatic show, I pull my hat down and put the earplugs in place.
The fabric is enchanted to block out all sound.
Their voices vibrate, but my eardrums remain intact.
They’re expecting their screams to paralyze me, but before they conclude their grating songs, I knock off the head of one with the sword.
The third slaps the blade away from me, which removes one of her fingers.
She opens her mouth so wide her chin is at her breasts, but my ears stay safe.
My dagger lands in her black eye. She jerks as I take out her other eye in three swift blows.
I roll away from her and get to my sword.
Her head joins her sisters down the hill.
Small spaces in the trees let in a little light, and I rest on the ground to catch my breath, staring up at the small reminder that important things still exist outside this dark forest. Those are what I need to focus on, not the hundreds of stings pinching my body.
My legs sink into the mud, and I’m so tired it takes too long for me to realize it’s a problem.
I shoot forward, tugging my arms free from whatever is pulling me downward.
My feet won’t budge, and I grab onto a loose tree root to pull myself up.
Still, I sink, but I’m able to reach a low hanging branch to keep myself from fully going under.
The tug gets stronger, and the bark bites into my fingers.
I slip from the branch and grab onto anything I can.
Grass pulls up in my grasp, and I claw at anything I can to find an anchor before I’m buried alive.
I wiggle and pull. My muscles shake from exhaustion.
I roll back and forth, fighting the mud and making little progress.
I gain several inches and am quickly pulled back.
It’s never all the way to the start, and that encourages me to keep going.
Finally, I break free enough to pull myself mostly out, but it won’t let my feet go free.
The tops of my boots are held tight by something.
I wiggle my feet and yank them hard until they come out of the boots. The trap also steals my socks.
My childhood held many days where I ran barefoot through the forest, but it’s been a while since that was a normal occurrence. This is also a place of monsters. A place the has dangerous things waiting for unprotected feet.
My clothes are caked in heavy mud, and I head to the stream to clean them up.
I leave my bag within reach on a boulder close to the shore and strip off my clothes.
The clear water gives me more confidence to catch threats.
I wash my clothes and body with a floral soap I took from the apothecary building.
Once clean, I wring my clothes dry as much as possible and put them back on.
Luckily, winter has ended, and the dampness works to cool me after all the exertion.