Chapter 25 Draiders
Draiders
Chaos ensues. Brynn’s voice shatters my frozen shock. “Take cover!”
Jasmeen dives from Moon and I dive in the opposite direction.
I hit the ground and roll gracelessly, my back slamming into the trail’s edge of thick tree trunks.
That will leave a mark. As soon as my feet find the ground again, I am stumbling, sprinting through the forest. I have no idea where I am, where I’m going, or where my companions are.
My eyes scan the flat landscape for any sort of cave, large rock, or crevice to hide in, much like when I escaped my guards as a child.
I see nothing but infinite trees. Charcoal-colored, spindly, prickly blackwood trees in every direction.
They grow closer together the farther I stray from the path, nicking and snagging my skin and clothes.
I run until I slam into what could be considered a fence of them.
They’re so dense that each trunk grows a half a foot from the next. I cannot squeeze through.
Lowering myself against this wall of trees, I listen. I work to steady my panting so that I may hear over it. What I wouldn’t do for an ounce of that fae hearing—
Shouting. In the distance. A savage roar.
A raw, pained howl. Followed by an unnerving nothingness.
I pull my dagger from my belt and start crawling along this organic fence.
But the sound of a branch snapping nearby has me scrambling to my feet again.
I bolt away from the noise, away from the wall of blackwood trunks.
Breathing heavily, I dash in what I believe to be the general direction of the path.
I am unsure what I can even do to help if I find my companions battling with who knows what.
Creatures that want us dead. Creatures with piss-poor aim.
My initial fear from the ambush subsides—that familiar, stubborn rage taking its place. How dare they—
A crack sounds behind me. Much closer this time. I freeze, listening hard.
My body is the next thing to crack as something slight, pale orange, lithe as a feline collides with me from behind, taking me to the ground.
I struggle, writhing with all my might to roll onto my back and face the threat.
A small hand locks around my wrist, stilling my flailing dagger, while another slaps across my wheezing mouth.
In bewilderment, I stare up at Glo, who straddles me.
Tiny cuts shine all over her face and chest, her skin sprinkled with golden flecks.
It’d be a beautiful sight if I didn’t know it was her blood.
I huff under her hand, the sound an odd mixture of indignation and relief.
She holds a solitary finger to her lips, a silent command to keep quiet.
There’s no choice but to obey because I feel it.
Something rattles the air around us. My skin prickles with goosebumps.
Glo stiffens and leans into me, becoming flush with my body.
Her grip remains tight on my wrist and mouth, her cheek nearly resting against mine.
She smells of lemon and fresh grass—and faerie blood.
I am reminded of the way Mavick’s cottage smelled before I entered the egress.
Panic rises in my chest. She flexes the hand at my wrist, as though she notices my pulse quicken and it’s the only bit of comfort she can offer at present.
I can do nothing but watch in horror as a shadow glides ink-like over us.
Everything turns opaque, the sky—already hard to see through the dense blackwoods—blots out.
A darkness as absolute as a blindfold falls over my eyes.
But the unsettling sensation lifts in seconds.
When Glo releases me at last, I am faint.
I’d forgotten to breathe. She gently pushes off me, and I roll over to vomit my breakfast onto the forest floor.
She pats my shoulder. “You’re all right, Thea,” she says, glancing around for any other threats. “Are you able to walk? I didn’t mean to take you down so hard.”
I nod. Glo stands and offers her hand, pulling me up with ease. I am sore, but nothing seems broken. I move to return my dagger to my belt loop.
“Keep it out,” Glo orders. “We need to find Vir and Jas.” Her brown eyes dart from the dagger, to my face, to our surroundings. The underlying, ever-present mischief is gone. She has never worn an expression so grave. So… vulnerable.
Glo leads the way. As the trees thin, the path back to the main road becomes clear—I was blinded by my instinctive fight or flight kicking in.
I hadn’t thought to watch the trees spread out again.
After treading in silence for a few minutes, we emerge on the trail, and Glo peers left and right.
Shadow and Moon are nowhere to be seen. No sign of whatever attacked us.
No sign of that inky shadow that swept over us in the woods.
No sign of Brynn and Jasmeen, either.
“What the fuck was that?” I at last find the strength to ask. Glo eyes me warily.
“We’ll talk once we get somewhere safer. Let’s—”
It’s me who silences her this time, slapping my free hand over her mouth. Her pupils dilate in alarm, her dark brow creasing. Behind her, a misshapen shade darts through the blackwoods, from the opposite side of the path, and I raise my dagger toward it.
Brynn crashes through the trail’s edge, a limp Jasmeen thrown over his shoulder. They’re both covered in red, sticky mess. Not the pretty gold that glitters on Glo’s pale orange skin.
This is mortal blood.
His eyes are as frantic as wildfire as they meet mine. He scans me for any obvious injuries, then does the same with Glo.
Glo does not give him the chance to fuss over her scrapes.
Together they lower Jasmeen’s body to the ground.
I drop to my knees beside her. She is breathing but unconscious.
Blood flows freely from an angry gash on her upper left arm, as well as a deep cut to the left side of her neck.
An arrow missed piercing her throat by mere centimeters.
There is nothing left for my stomach to expel, but it lurches threateningly anyway.
“Tell me you didn’t—” Brynn says to Glo over my head. He fights to catch his breath.
I rip the sleeve of my tunic—Jasmeen’s tunic that she let me borrow—and tie it around the top of her arm.
I tear another piece of fabric and hold it to her neck wound.
A memory strikes me. Her neatly scribbled note: I repeat, DO NOT INGEST. The Clot, the healing elixir.
I need my satchel. The satchel currently strapped to Moon’s saddle.
Who the hell knows where Moon ran off to in the commotion.
I do not consider myself squeamish. Blood does not bother me. But seeing someone I care about hurt? The growing panic is unmatched. I swallow hard, struggling to think about next steps.
“Tell you I didn’t what, exactly?” Glo hisses. The tone of her retort pulls my attention away from Jasmeen.
“Tell me you didn’t piss someone off at the Inn—you didn’t steal something again, did you?” The accusation in Brynn’s voice cuts like a knife. Glo lets out an indignant scoff.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Vir?!” she shouts, her words echoing back at us through the trees. Steam practically rolls from her shoulders. I am too wary to tell her to keep her voice down. I may be more afraid of her rage than of that shadow returning.
“Your shit reputation precedes you,” Brynn spits back.
I glance down at Jasmeen—the fabric at her neck is already red, despite how much pressure I apply.
The non-absorbent cloth makes for a shit bandage.
The blood flow from the wound on her arm has slowed, thanks to the makeshift tourniquet, but I fear how pale she has become.
How clammy her hands feel. I stand, eyes sweeping the trail for any sign of Moon.
Glo steps in Brynn’s direction. Her apricot skin is now so red that she seems to be on the verge of combustion. At the very least, on the verge of throttling him with her bare hands. “This was not my fau—”
“I hate to interrupt,” I say, raspy from the sprint through the woods and losing breakfast. “I must find Moon—my satchel. I have a vial of Clot—Jas needs it.”
Brynn glances at me like he’s just remembered I’m here. He too looks like he may lose the contents of his stomach. But Glo gathers her wits and drops to Jasmeen’s side, taking her hand.
“I need you to watch the wound on her neck—apply pressure. Keep switching out the cloth if needed,” I say as though I have any idea what I’m doing. I tear off my other sleeve and hand it to her.
My chest tightens as my pulse thuds in my ears—but the pounding sensation settles something within me. Something ancient, steadfast, assured. Glo finds that resolve too, nodding determinedly even as her jaw clenches.
I turn to Brynn. His tunic is covered in Jasmeen’s blood. For a stupid, dazed spell, I wonder what color his half-fae blood is.
“Take off your shirt,” I demand, suddenly remembering the veilmane’s sense of smell. It may be a long shot, but Moon has Jasmeen’s scent. Perhaps I can call Moon back with her blood.
“Excuse me?” he hisses, no hint of teasing in his voice.
“You’re covered in her blood. I’m going to jog up the path with it and see if I can lure Moon and Shadow out—Moon is most familiar with Jasmeen’s scent. Maybe I can call them back.”
Even as I say it, it sounds ludicrous, but Brynn does not argue. He shrugs out of his tunic and tosses it to me. I scan him once over to make sure he’s not injured. He shakes his head in response to my gaze.
“I should come with you—” he starts.
“No—I’ll be right back. Stay with Jasmeen,” I say. “Please.”
I commanded him twice in a row, without the use of his true name. His haunted glare tells me this did not go unnoticed.