Step by aching step, she wrestled him toward that glowing shack at the end of the tiny path, not much more than a game trail, but for really large game. On one of his stumbles, he reached out to grab her. His hand didn't touch down. He quickly pulled it away, probably so his arm wouldn't drag her closer against his side, crushing any lingering poison onto her skin.
I'm sure it's all oozed down your body by now, she said, nearly there, reaching around his big back.
"No." He shoved away from her and fell into the door. "No—"
The door gave way under his weight, and he tumbled into the space. His hand peeled off the ancient-looking knob, bronzed and weather worn. His limbs settled on the ground, and he stayed there, cheek against the dusty wooden floor, chest rising and falling much too quickly.
"Fine." She stepped around him, grabbed his wrists, and heaved. It was like moving a concrete pillar. "C'mon, you bastard," she mumbled, using anger to coax adrenaline into her aching joints and tired limbs. "C'mon, here we go." She dragged him a little bit, then a little bit more. "You could also help me. Just go ahead and inchworm forward. A little bit more and I can close the door."
With a world-weary sigh, he did as she said, not moving much, but enough for her to use his momentum to inch him all the way into the modest space. That done, she stepped around him to close the door, but imagery started tumbling into her mind. She paused, hand on the knob, focusing on the beautiful images filled with light and sunbeams and vibrant hues of color. A path wound through them, following the natural landmarks, turns, and finally ending at a babbling brook.
The imagery changed to the space they occupied. Cupboards and baskets filled with supplies and—
She stepped over him, finding the cupboard in question and pulling out the water skin.
More images—no, the same as before, going over the directions, instructing her to get water.
"Got it," she said, turning.
Still more images came, this time ending in a field near the brook and looking down on a very pretty flower with an explosion of vibrancy. Magenta and amethyst petals framed a core of fiery marigold, emitting beads of light that drifted into the air and hovered all around. Just off the center, the petals looked like leaves, with veins of luminous tangerine, fuchsia, or violet. The leaves seemed ultraviolet, with the blues, purples, pinks, and lime greens.
He went through how to pick it twice, how to tuck it into the pack she needed to grab in a minute, and how to prepare it. So handy, this way of communicating. It made information transfer so much quicker and less tedious.
When he was finished, and before she could leave, images of creatures flashed into her mind. His feelings indicated how she should respond to them, if she should fight, run, hide…
Finally, the images stopped, his feelings subsided, and she lifted her brow to make sure that meant she should go.
The image of the door hitting her in the ass on the way out filtered into her mind.
"Cute," she said dryly, grabbing the pack, strapping it and the water skin to her person, and checking her weapons.
She didn't have a shirt, which would make a quick draw of her knife easier, but it would also expose that she had a knife. Of course, she had yanked Tarian's belt and sheath off him and secured it around her hips, so it wasn't like she would be hiding anything anyway. She was at least thankful she'd been abducted after a job and not after an event. Her nipples showing through a lacy bra was not what she was going for. The sturdy cotton she currently wore checked the right boxes.
"Okay wylds," she murmured, setting off. "Let's see if you can sneak a rock in my way."
It felt like his memories were stamped into hers, which made traveling the path feel like she'd done it before. Done it often, actually, although…looking around, noticing the tree with the hollow at the bottom, or the strange knot in that trunk, or the small outcropping of rocks that had no hope of catching her foot, she had to own that he saw things a lot differently than she did. His imagery was so colorful and pretty, with dancing filaments of plants and the silvery sparkle of moonlight or random glowing orbs. In reality—her reality—the same objects were dark and gloomy, with murky shadows pooling at the bases and the press of eyes from unseen places. She felt like the storm cloud to his blissful, sunny day.
She heard the brook before she saw it, and once she neared, she desperately tried to notice the shimmering light dancing on the slowly flowing water, or the gurgle of rapids across the smooth stones down the way. She wanted to match his poetic observations, if only to prove she wasn't so horribly dour. Instead, she heard a twig snap away right. Something rustled to the left. Ripples of ill intent washed over her, and that was about as poetic as she could get with the whole thing.
They drifted out of the dark grasses, five creatures that looked like a misguided scientist had tried to clone a wolf and ended up with a wolf/jackal hybrid. They snarled, showing too many canines too large for their mouths. Their front legs were longer than their back, with a robust chest leading back into scrawny withers. She took out her knives, one weapon in each hand, and waited for them to elongate into swords. They did so at exactly the same time and pace.
Her legs hurt like hell, her middle throbbed, her vision wobbled, but she had zero fear as she walked into the center of them and let them surround her. She didn't move her swords or choose a stance just yet, watching their movements and the transfer of their weight. Watching how they worked together and which one called the shots. She'd learned to interpret the pack mentality from training with various shifters. That would help her here.
The ground pulsed subsonically. The effect rattled her heart. Magic?
The creatures around her hunched. Their lips lowered, their snarls losing their viciousness. That feeling hadn't come from them. They weren't looking around, though. If it had come from some other creature, they weren't looking for it.
She walked in a small circle, swords lowering, points level with their faces. Three of them snarled. The other two lowered their heads a fraction as another pulse hit, this one crawling up her spine uncomfortably. Fear wavered her resolve. She didn't like that pulse. It felt like a bad omen, like something big and bad was wandering this way.
One of the creatures took a step back, its tail curling between its legs. The others noticed, their ears pricking up. They all suddenly lifted their heads, gazes directed across the brook, as though startled. In a moment, they scattered, having come from positions surrounding her and now all fleeing in a singular direction.
Another pulse. Treetops in the distance moved within the moon's glow. A branch broke, torn from on high and echoing as it plummeted to the ground. Whatever was coming was fucking enormous.
"Fuck that," she said as her heart picked up pace. She didn't care if this clawing fear was magically induced. She didn't want any part of it.
She stowed her weapons away as she ran to the brook. She unslung the water skin, twisted off the cap, and submerged it in the water. Another pulse and her breath came quickly.
"Come on, come on…" Trees groaned, and another branch went down. Something large was definitely moving through the landscape. "Be a brontosaurus. Be a gentle giant that only eats plants."
That pulse worked at her nervous system. Adrenaline dumped into her body, her flight response active. It had to be magic. She wasn't generally afraid in these kinds of situations. Or many situations, really. Training had mostly chased the fear out of her. But fuck if she wasn't shitting herself right now.
A rock wiggled across the brook. As she filled the water skin with a shaking hand, it grew before her eyes. Could the wylds make them fly? Like, throw it at her somehow?
It rolled. All by itself, the rock rolled to the right. Another, first enlarging, did the same, but this one went left. A couple more. They met on the other side of the bank, forming a tiny wall between her and the creature. A message. The feeling in the area changed.
Run.
It was almost like someone whispering it in her ear. Or Tarian in her head. But this wasn't a voice, and it wasn't him, and it wasn't human. It was sentient, though.
The pulse was getting closer. That thing didn't move quickly, but it traveled fast. It definitely had to be enormous.
Run.
She yanked the skin out of the water. Three-quarters would have to be good enough.
She ran away from the massive thing cutting a path through the trees. Memories crowded her, vibrant and bright and pretty, and she'd just missed the turn for the plant.
"Fuh-ck," she drew out, stopping. She turned back. She needed that plant. He needed that plant. He'd endured immense pain to save her, and now she would save him. And while that didn't make all the sense in the world, given he'd gotten her into this mess in the first place, her survival also depended on him. She didn't have any food or fire. She didn't have any way of getting out of here. Also…there was a small niggle in the back of her mind that worried if he died, a part of her would miss him. Miss the feelings she had when she was around him.
Regardless, he needed to live.
She raced down the little path, and all the rocks rolled out of her way. What did it say about her that the most deranged of the wylds were working with her like some sort of teammate or friend? Probably not great things. She needed to look into her mental health when she eventually got back to the human lands.
The field of those faerie plants was like a cactus farm in New Mexico compared to what Tarian had mentally shown her. The shape was the same, though, so she stilled herself for the moment and carefully harvested three, like he'd shown her.
The pulse felt like a hand had physically grabbed hold of her legs and shaken them, trying to knock her to the ground. The subsonic sound materialized into the air, a push of pressure that had her looking over her shoulder, expecting something twice the size of an elephant to be bearing down on her. Nothing was there.
Run!
"Okay," she whispered, her hands shaking so badly she could hardly stow away the plants. It was important to keep the petals attached.
Never hurry, Zorn always said. Never rush. That's when you make mistakes. Keep control, and just move faster.
But the fucking shaking would not go away.
Being afraid is a waste of—
"I fucking know that," she muttered to herself furiously, taking the time needed to stow away those plants. "You try being in the fucking faerie wylds with your body magically on fire from a poison you've never experienced and in debt to your captor with a huge fucking beast bearing down on you and the actual fucking wilderness telling you to run. You do that, Zorn, and then we'll fucking talk, huh?"
Plants stowed, she ended her tirade and popped up. She spun and took one step before she saw it. Its massive head was even with the tree line, and the deep brown of its shaggy body nearly blended in with the surrounding fauna. It was still beyond the brook, but the break in the trees gave it a clear view of her, because glowing yellow eyes were focused her way, a pinprick of black in their center, the rest of the face lost to darkness and shadow even though the moon should've been showering it with light. Its huff moved the leaves around it, and a snuffle said it was inhaling, sampling the currents.
It took her a harried heartbeat to realize the direction of the wind. She was upwind and smeared with Tarian's blood and magic, her own sweat and blood. If it had any sort of olfactory ability, it would know everything about her.
Moving slowly, because predators liked to chase, she took a step toward the path. Another. Those luminous eyes followed her. It didn't move.
Maybe it wasn't interested in her? Maybe—
Its roar froze her solid, locking up the very fibers of her being. Except her heart. That thing had never beaten so fast in her life.
Run! that presence urged.
"But what if it likes to chase—"
RUN!
The creature launched forward a moment before she did.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—" she murmured as she swung the pack onto her back and tore out of the clearing. The pulsing quickened, footsteps, each one rattling against her ribcage like a xylophone. Her stomach tightened as she hit the main path.
Left.
"But Tarian—"
LEFT!
She did as the wylds instructed. They'd tried to barricade her behind the brook with stones, after all. They couldn't be all that deranged…
Branches slapped her face. Something stung her arm.
Right.
The small game trail was hard to find. The pulsing grew more intense and louder, even though she couldn't actually hear it. Fear consumed her, and she let it. It might make her run faster.
Right.
"Please don't take me in a circle," she said, throwing up her hands to block a wall of bushes. Another game trail. Vines moved quickly, outlining her way.
Another roar made her cry out. Tears streamed down her face. She was so afraid that she was choking. Not even the Celestials had magic like this. It was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could tolerate.
It would be really great if Tarian suddenly felt better and came to save me, she thought desperately, getting another direction from the wylds but having already figured it out from the vines. Through the foliage, it looked like cliffs rose on each side, like she'd entered a canyon. I'd be totally fine being the damsel right now.
Who was she kidding? She was the damsel. No way was she fighting something that enormous and terrifying. No way. She knew her limits.
Stop.
"What?" she said, out of breath. Vines reached into the path to block her way. She could've pushed through, but she was getting too far from the general location of the shack.
Trees crashed. Branches tore. A roar blasted across the space, but not like before. It didn't scare her. It made her want to duck. To hide. The creature sounded frustrated.
She looked around, seeing the thick trunks and stringy vines, solid masses of flora and the sheer rock faces to her right and left, going up over her head. She didn't feel closed in—there was plenty of space around her—but she was also a grain of sand compared to that enormous creature. It couldn't get through.
Wait, the voice that was not a voice said.
She stepped toward the nearest bush and hunkered down, catching her breath. Both the pack and water skin were still on her back. The creature out there thrashed and bucked, offering another roar. After a while, though, the noises slowed. The pulses did, too. Then everything quieted. Deadly quiet, as though every living thing had vacated this area.
Go.
She rose slowly. The wylds had saved her life. The nameless, faceless, natural, sentient…thing had helped her escape. She should've been bewildered. Utterly perplexed. Maybe scared. Instead…she smiled. Then chuckled. Then full-out laughed. It seemed…so fucking awesome. Awesome wasn't even the right word. It was—
Go!
"Pushy, that's what it is…" she mock-grumbled, still smiling to shake loose some of the adrenaline still sizzling her nerves.
A rock moved at the last moment, catching her foot. She tripped over it and fell on her face. She could feel the swell of victory all around her.
When she got back to the shack, Tarian was standing, leaning at an angle, his hand braced on a countertop. His eyes were tight and filled with pain, with worry, as they landed on hers. The circle around his pupils was a deep blood red.
"Hey." She closed the door behind her and noticed a glow from a bronze bowl at the back corner. It provided enough light for her to dimly see the modest and meager surroundings of the one-room space. A bed was pushed into the corner in the back, and a rocking chair sat empty in the other corner, a thick layer of dust over the back and seat. "What's…"
She glanced around. None of the cupboards had been opened since she'd left, and nothing new seemed to be on the countertop.
"What are you up to?" she asked. "Headed out for a jog?"
His torso flexed, and he swayed before catching himself. His hair fell into his eyes as he dropped his head. I heard the darkrend. I worried you might be in trouble. It took this long to stand. I'm not quite up to my usual standards.
"I'm going to go ahead and talk out loud, if that's cool." She unslung the pack from her shoulders. "I'm assuming I'll get warned if something else big and mean is coming, and then I'll quiet down."
If you don't mind, I'll still speak like this. She could hear the fatigue and pain emanating through his words. I set the ward. You are safe within these walls. Nothing can get us in here, not even a group of Celestials.
"That's good to know. And yes, I was in trouble. That thing saw me across the brook and closed in. I…am going to be really honest here…" She unslung the water skin and placed it on the ground before helping him back down. A rocking chair would not feel nice on his back, and there was nothing else to sit on, save for that bed—and if one of them had to lie in it, she didn't want water or crushed plants making it gross. "It scared the absolute shit out of me. I haven't frozen in fear in…I don't even remember how long. But I did. Froze solid."
He winced as he settled, bowing over his legs. What did it go after?
"What do you mean?"
It roared its battle charge. What was it chasing?
"Me. It saw me across the brook. I was getting those plants—which look nothing like your mental images, by the way. Do you habitually take drugs, should I get my eyes checked, or am I just a gloomy person and that's the only filter I have to see the world through?"
His body shook with silent laughter, and then he started to cough before groaning. Please don't be funny. It hurts to laugh.
"I wasn't meaning to be," she muttered softly. She was just in a buoyant mood after the whole wylds situation.
What situation? More importantly, what do you mean it charged you? It couldn't have. You'd be dead.
She told him what happened as she found a bowl and grabbed the plants. She carefully picked off the petals and paused in her story to repeat the instructions the wyld had given her. Then she sat down behind him with the bowl and interior of the flower.
"A chalice," she said, suddenly understanding.
What?
"The cup-shaped interior of a flower. One of our meanings of the word chalice. That's what I'm using to help you heal, right?"
He tried to turn and see but winced and stopped himself. Yes. That didn't even dawn on me.
"Oh." She left it in the bowl, unfolded a thick and soft cloth she'd found in a cabinet, and picked up the water skin. "Can I use this water to wash your back, or does it have to be boiled first to get rid of all the bacteria? If the latter, I'm going to need more supplies because I don't know how to make fire with just sticks. Zorn has always been very verbal in his frustration about that fact."
He started to shake silently again before taking a deep breath. Stop. Please stop. You're killing me. And yes, you can use the water as it is. Water in Faerie is safe for all species to drink, directly from the source.
Tarian sat on the dusty, dirty floor with Daisy kneeling behind him. She told him the story as she squeezed water over his skin, watching it run in rivulets down his tattoos and tense muscles. Her knuckles occasionally grazed his skin, eliciting goosebumps across his body.
He stayed stoic through the process but didn't speak while it was happening, very likely trying to handle the pain. The good news was that almost all the oozing had stopped. What was persistent was mostly blood, the wounds surely clean of poison at this point.
She took the flower, working in the balm with her fingertips, slow and gentle, careful not to hurt him. She worked the gel-like substance across his back. When she got to his neck, his head lolled forward. His breathing softened, now more controlled. He was clearly enjoying the sensations. Her touch.
"Is it helping?" she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.
"Very much," he replied in an equally soft tone. "Tell me again what that voice sounded like."
"Felt like, actually—"
She cut off as her fingers ran over something hard on the back of his right shoulder, about an inch in diameter. Looking closer, she saw it was an octagonal shape and smooth and shallow, but not skin. Not ink, either, though the color was almost identical. When it caught the light, it glittered.
"What is this?" she asked, seeing four more evenly spaced across the shoulders and upper back. She traced the others, feeling a current within her fingers.
His reply was so low she barely heard. "Obsidian."noveldrama
His court. Where he was an assassin and an errand boy and apparently a captive, and she would be a plaything. Maybe a dangerous toy.
She pushed the reality of their situation away. She was too exhausted to think about it. To worry about it. She needed rest. Sleep. She needed a fucking break, and she'd only get it if she hurried this along and finished up.