Awall of briars to their right swung toward them, cutting through the established briars like the creatures had and bearing down. This attack had waited until Daisy and Tarian were right in the middle of the massive scape of poisoned needles before starting its swing. There would be no way to duck under it. No way to hide.
Run! Tarian shouted, but she'd never make it. She'd have to go carefully to ensure she didn't touch the thorns. She'd never have enough time.
Her stomach dropped, and her heart hurt. She called up an image of Mordecai and Lexi, the first family that had offered her love. The first real home she'd ever known. Then Kieran and his Six, the first additions to her tiny world. Then Bria, Jerry, Dylan, and Amber—the people for which she kept expanding her circle of trust. The only people who would miss her. Who would lament her passing.
She called them up in her mind and held them close, soaking in her love for them in her last moments. Wishing them goodbye.
Tarian yanked her around and wrapped a big arm around her. He squeezed her to his chest as he jostled her toward the stationary wall of briars, away from the swinging wall.noveldrama
"Do. Not. Move," he ground out next to her ear. He spread his legs, planted his feet, and reached through the thorns to brace his hand flat against the tunnel wall. Thorns scraped his skin. Blood and pus welled up. His flesh turned angry and red. Then his whole body popped, it felt like, muscles pushing into her everywhere, bracing around her.
"Wait—" she'd started to say, or maybe scream, when the wall slammed into him from behind. He grunted and pushed forward with the impact. His elbow bent. Sharp needles neared her body, her face. One was aimed directly at her eye.
His arm shook with the effort of keeping that wall from knocking them into the briars. His whole body trembled, whether from pain or maintaining his position, she didn't know. Probably both. Then his elbow slowly straightened. Bit by agonizing bit, he willed himself to push away from the wall. She felt the incredible determination through his mind. His agony, but his unwillingness to give up, to give in and let the Celestials win over him. In his mind, they were not above him, as their stations declared. They were his inferiors. They should be looking skyward at him.
He shoved away from that wall until his elbow locked. Until they had breathing room in the tent of his exertion.
"Go," he wheezed, carefully releasing her body. Even now he would keep her from falling forward and killing herself. "Hurry. Get to safety. Once one of us steps out of this obstacle, it's safe. It should release me." He paused. "It should. Once you escape its net, it should lose its ferocity. The wall of briars should disappear or diminish."
"What if it doesn't?" she whispered, stepping to the side while crouching.
"We'll cross that bridge when we steal the right chalice." It was a joke, and she didn't waste any more time. Couldn't. If she didn't help by getting out of here, she would help by finding a log or something to wedge into the briar wall that might release him.
She was quick but careful, the space limited and a few jutting briar patches in her way. She crawled for some stretches, slithered in others, and noticed the moving wall shaking, belying his extreme effort or pain. She could see the cleared tunnel up ahead.
She felt a snag on her shirt at the back, near her right side.
Her heart stopped. Had something poked her? Was she imagining it?
A horrible burning sensation spread across her skin. Fuck. No, she was not imagining it.
"A little wider," she yelled at Tarian, fear seeping into her words before she could shove the feeling away. "I'm caught. There's not enough space."
She heard him groan, like a bodybuilder lifting too much weight. The shivering wall moved an inch. Two. It was enough.
She crawled across the tunnel floor as fast as she dared. It felt like her skin was blistering. Like it was dripping away from her body. The pain throbbed, sinking into her ribs at her back. Deeper, into the very center of her, like a knife twisting. She couldn't seem to ignore it. To avoid it.
Zorn's voice swam into her consciousness.
To give in to the pain is to give in to death.
She gritted her teeth. She remembered his teachings and internalized the feeling. Became one with it. Let it continue to pass through her until her mind accepted it and moved on. Zorn was full of amazing tricks for horrible things. Fuck, though. This hurt worse than anything she'd ever even dreamed of.
The last of the briars seemed to wave goodbye…and then the tunnel cleared of them completely. Not just in front of her, but behind as well. It was as if the whole obstacle had been an illusion, and once she was out of it, it vanished completely.
Breathing heavily, her mind fracturing to skirt the throbs of excruciating pain, she turned back to Tarian. He'd fallen onto a knee, his good hand braced on the ground, his bad arm held in close to his chest. His dark, curled mass of hair fell over his face as he bowed his head. His sides ran freely with blood-tinged liquid, and his ribs expanded and contracted quickly with each labored breath.
Can I come to you? she thought, but the distance was too great. He couldn't hear her thoughts. She repeated herself out loud.
"No," he responded gruffly. "If you cross the threshold you just exited, the obstacle will flare to life again. I'll come to you. I'm just…taking a break."
The break lasted another few minutes, and in that time, she assessed the throbbing pain that registered in her body. Deep in her soul, it felt like. But as time passed, it didn't get worse. It didn't spread or affect anything that might steal her life, like closing her throat. The liquid had pierced her shirt, not her skin, and dripped onto her. That was it, and that wasn't enough to kill her.
That answers that, she thought as he slowly stood, like a man on the brink. Each movement took a lot of effort. Agonizing, she knew. His steps were halting, not at all exhibiting the grace with which he so often moved. His sword was in its sheath and each hand flexed and clenched, over and over, as he handled the pain.
His gaze was downcast until he got close, and then it flicked her way. His eyes were bloodshot and the thin gold line around his pupils had turned red. She furrowed her brow at it, wondering why it had changed color. What that meant for a fae.
"It's so others may assess our state of being in the event we can't respond ourselves," he answered, back in range.
"So red means…"
"Gravely injured. In this case, in extreme pain with the possibility of being poisoned."
"But…" She reached out for him, to give him something to lean on.
"No," he whispered raggedly, pushing her hand away. "I might have some of the poison on my skin. Keep your distance, dove. You are ten times more fragile than I am."
She clenched her teeth stubbornly, having heard that since she was fourteen and hating it just as much now. But as with her early days, he was right. In this, she was vulnerable. Any open cut and that liquid might find its way into her bloodstream. She was lucky the other drop hadn't.
"I thought this plant wasn't poison to you—"
His head snapped up, and his eyes hyper-focused. "What did you say?" He squinted marginally, and then he yanked her around before grabbing her shirt in two fistfuls and ripping down the back, rending it in two except for a small section at the very bottom.
"What—" she started.
His left hand—the undamaged one—clamped down on her shoulder. The other grabbed her clothed hip. He bent her over. A finger touched down on her skin, and it felt like her knees might buckle from the pain. The finger moved through an area she couldn't really feel, numbed from the poison, before coming away. He was wiping up any lingering liquid.
"Is it having any other effects besides the pain?" he asked, running his finger over her again. He took up her shirt and analyzed it before wiping her off.
"No. I think it's fine." She straightened, needing to slap his hands away to do so. Then she cleared her throat to stave off the shuddering breath at the sight of him. His front was obviously fine, but his arm was swollen and puffy along tracks where the needles had pierced his skin and then dragged along it.
"I thought this plant wasn't poisonous to you," she repeated, swallowing heavily.
"It isn't poisonous in small doses, I think," he replied, walking stiffly toward the end of the tunnel. "This…doesn't feel like a small dose."
As he passed, she got a look at his back. She sucked in that shuddering breath.
The stuff oozing from the wounds was singeing unmarked skin. The plant had released so much poison inside of him that it was now bubbling back out. Given how much it hurt for just a drop to touch her unblemished skin, she couldn't fathom the amount of agony he must be feeling with it inside his body in that magnitude. To still be on his feet…
He'd endured that poison—he'd stood there and let those thorns empty more and more into him—so she could get out. So she would be safe. He could've run and made it. He could've pushed his way out when he'd realized it was more than he could possibly tolerate. He'd saved her life at great peril to his own. That was more than a desire to keep a toy in one piece. That was someone looking after the wellbeing of another. Daisy didn't have the time or energy to dissect what it all meant, or how she felt about it, but she knew his selfless actions deserved her doing everything she could to return the favor. She didn't have much in the way of a moral compass, but this was the decent thing. The right thing. End of story.
"You're on your deathbed, fine," she said crisply, getting to work. "Let's get this sorted out, shall we?"
She could have used her shirt to wipe away the poison oozing down his side. Instead, she put it back on, awkwardly tied the back to keep it put, then ducked under his good arm. If poison started to soak into her shirt, she'd know. Then she'd use the other side of it to wipe him up before tossing the thing away entirely. They needed to hasten him toward water or something that might help clean this gunk off. Speed was life.
"Where are we headed?" she asked. "Closest safe spot will do. Also, I need your weapon. If we run into trouble, you won't be much good to me."
He huffed out a laugh that turned into a series of coughs. He put his weight on her, and she held on to his arm to keep from reaching around his side and coming into contact with more of the ooze. Her knife was tucked away, and she held his in her free hand. She'd drop him like a sack of garbage if she needed to meet an attack.
A sack of garbage? he thought as they reached the end of the tunnel. I thought the human saying was sack of potatoes.
Another saying is—when the shoe fits. Pain still thrummed in her back, somewhat localized but making her vision distort in pulses. That probably wasn't good.
It's happening to me, too, he said as he pointed southeast. Only, it's darkening my vision, like it's threatening to cut out my ability to see entirely.
Not good.
Probably not, no.
The night lay still and dark around them. The land curled up into a bank on their right, where strange trees with twisted trunks towered over them. Their branches reached out like skeletal arms, their leaves long, weaving together like an oddly colored quilt. Light fog hazed the uneven path, hiding sharp rocks and loose logs so that travelers might stumble and hopefully fall. Once they were on the ground, they were easier to deal with. Easier to bleed.
Fangs brightened her mind's eye, sharp and dripping with saliva. Red eyes, the pupils circled with yellow. Bristling bodies. Hair tipped with razors, watching them. Waiting for them.
One was sick.
Another was weak.
The eating will be good.
Are you hearing these thoughts? she asked him with a slight quickening of her heart. Or is this the poison presenting me to myself and I'm just now realizing I should've been going to therapy these last few years?
It is not the poison. It is not your thoughts, and I am once again surprised and impressed. You have an innate ability to understand the subtle or hidden atmosphere of your surroundings, it seems. Or maybe you are meant to be in Faerie.
I am most definitely not meant to be in Faerie, and I'd greatly love some insight into what's going on.
He coughed again, his body heaving. There are any number of creatures around us that could be thinking those same thoughts. Your mind is giving the consciousness of the wylds one face, when in reality, it presents as many faces. The trees there drink the blood of the fallen, rejoicing when death soaks into their roots. A great many things in this area kill for sport. Many more feed on only rotting carcasses. Still more will enchant you and lead you away to dance and play until you are dying of starvation and thirst, never having remembered to eat or sleep. Certain parts of the wylds are very treacherous. You must always stay vigilant.
She sighed and continued on. Same shit, different realm. She'd have to learn a whole new set of warning signals and danger beacons but…well, what else did she have to do? Might as well start now.
Start fast-thinking about everything you know, she said, stepping over a rock and feeling a sigh of annoyance that she should find it. They seemed fairly simple, these wylds. They must deal with stupid creatures fairly often if her seeing a rock was their big letdown. You know how you did in the Faegate, when you flicked through images and experiences and—
The memories came fast, almost faster than she could handle. Once she got into the flow of it, though, she was able to sift through his various experiences, noticing the creatures, their dangers, their tells. As they trudged on, tired, weary, soon-to-be half-naked because she could feel the poison soaking into her shirt and tingling her skin, she did her homework on this new and not-as-terrifying-as-she-had-previously-thought place.
The wylds are not terrifying, no, he said, the tone of his thoughts weakened even more. They are treacherous, as I've said, but then, so are we. So are you. They are beautiful if you see them the right way. Majestic. Really fucking disturbing, though, most of them.
So then…like you, she surmised with a grin, pausing to rip off her shirt, wipe him down with it, and toss it aside.
He didn't so much as spare her near-nudity a glance. Like you. He paused as they reached a fork. He thought about the direction, leaning against her heavily. He was fading fast.
I'm good, he said, and if he thought his admission was believable, he was sorely mistaken. I'll make it, he tried again, and maybe that was truer. It's not far now. The wylds have rules, and the Celestials mostly do their duty in managing the balance. This part is a bit…deranged, which is why they end up in the catacombs, but that's because it's an extension of the fringe. In other parts of the wyld, there are some truly beautiful places with lovely creatures and kind beings. They're in secretive places that not many of my kind know about.
Your kind?
The highborn and gentry and above. The nobles, you'd say. The upper class, even. My kind doesn't seek out the mysterious places of this land. They don't communicate with the lesser fae and certainly don't lower themselves to encounter the faeries and wyld things that make this land thrive. And that leads me to the real dangers of this realm. The really scary places that will take more than vigilance to survive. It'll take cunning and planning, backstabbing and betrayals. Alliances, many of whose throats you'd cut if needed.
The courts, she surmised.
Yes. The courts, ruled by the various thrones making up Faerie, and no court is as cunning, as conniving, as that ruled by the Obsidian Throne.
That sounded a lot like the dealings of Demigods in the human realm. She filed that away for future reflection.
How do you know of these secret wyld places? she asked, her side throbbing. Fuck, that poison was intense.
I have traveled all over this realm seeking the chalices. Before I knew the most powerful of them had been hidden in the human realm, I sought them in my lands.
The most powerful…were hidden? By whom?
He pointed to the right. She barely registered a path leading away. It was only after she had changed their trajectory that he answered.
By past Celestial kings and queens. The legends say that the gods would not destroy their objects of power, and so the Celestial High Sovereign hid them across the Great Barrier—the fringe—never to be found and used against their kind.
Which never works.
In the end, it seems not.
And so all you did was follow the breadcrumbs.
That is an enormous oversimplification, which discounts all the many hours I spent under the guidance of the most boring scribe ever to walk the enchanted lands—which is saying something, because they are all mind-numbing—but sure, I followed breadcrumbs.
She felt a smile bud through the pain, barely able to feel her legs now.
I'm starting to question whether the poison that touched my skin is actually fatal, she reflected.
I can't feel my legs at all. I'm telling them to move, and it seems to be working, but they also seem like a separate part of me.
Oh. Well, I'm not so bad off as that. Good news.
For you, yes. Unless I die. Then you're equally fucked.
Very likely. At least she had the disgruntled wylds to keep her company. They really did hope she tripped on one of the rocks.
The embankment rose on both sides, the trees not having changed but the leaves growing fuller on the branches. Ivy wrapped around the trunks of some, and as she watched, the vines uncurled slowly. They sensed visitors and wanted to check them out, maybe claim a prize for the trees that were so fond of squeezing creatures to death and drinking the spoils.
This place is going to drive me mad, I think, she whispered, realizing belatedly that it was a thought and not actual words. I wonder if Lewis Caroll took a trip through Faerie before he penned his stories.
I don't know who that is.
She crinkled her nose as a mysterious echo ghosted by the trees. Not a sound so much as a whisper of a thought. A dark and murderous desire as yet unvoiced.
Don't bother. She was still mentally whispering. Being used to all this, you'll probably find it boring. I might be changing my mind about how scary this place is.
He didn't respond, and the images in his mind, having gone from the wylds to the court they'd be heading toward, had stopped. He staggered, stumbling more frequently, and reached out with his bad hand to brace on things that weren't there.
How much longer? she asked in alarm.
He shook his head, breathing too fast, pushing himself on. She could feel it in his lean forward, his desire to go faster. She complied, taking more of his weight, wilting under the onslaught.
Up ahead, peeking out through dense vegetation and half nestled into a little berm, dull brown wood announced a structure. Tarian reached for the door when they were still a ways off, grabbing for the handle.
Almost there, she said softly, clutching the presence of his mind within hers and trying to keep it with her so he didn't drift away entirely. She didn't know if that was possible or if it was working, but it made her feel like she was doing more than shambling and lurching toward their hopeful safe haven. Just a little farther.
He barely nodded, his head drooping. Then his back bowed, still oozing gruesomely. She pushed on, breathing heavily with his weight, refusing to allow her legs to buckle. She could still at least feel them…kinda. She willed herself forward. A little faster.
He mumbled something.
What? she asked.
He mumbled something else, the words not taking shape, barely reaching her ears. His hand came out again, flexing. The presences around them, the voices and feelings, the creepy sensations and negative motives, fell away. Scattered. She barely heard or felt them now. Instead, warmth existed in front of her. That was what it felt like, anyway, as if they were marching through a blizzard and a fire roared just up ahead. The colors softened, or her perception of them did, and the feelings grew welcoming.
Magic, obviously. His magic or his activating some other kind of magic.
Perceptive. His thought felt flimsy, less solid. His amusement was only a passing wisp, lost to the darkness a moment later. He was fading fast.
Here we go. She gripped the feeling of him in her head harder. Almost there. Rest will help. You just need rest.
She hoped that was all he needed, because in this realm, she had no idea which plants might act as medicine, and which plants might finish him off.