Chapter Three

Somehow, either by luck or Jugong's superior navigation as he releases sharp cries largely beyond my range of hearing and beats the air with his wings, we manage to avoid the worst of the trees. The landing is still hard, violently tearing me from his grasp. Despite that Jugong manages to twist us at the last moment to absorb most of the impact. It is still enough, however, to knock my breath out of me in a hard wheeze, immediately shocking my etheric body when it fails to respirate energy correctly. I lay there for a long moment, with my eyes closed before rolling slowly to my back. I wince as the undergrowth and rocks poke me and squint over at him in concern.

"Ju-ju, are you okay?" I croak.

He groans in reply and raises one wing and then the other experimentally before finally rolling and flopping heavily to his belly. His head is facing me, however, and his eyes open slowly to give me an annoyed look.

"Foul tricks," he hisses unhappily. "The wraith tricked us and got away. I hate portals," he adds with another groan as his long, tufted tail twitches like an angry kitten.

"I don't think he got away," I mumble in reply as I sit up, my hand going instinctively to my head as a sharp pain pierces it. Every inch of me hurts, it is only knowing that it could have been much worse that has me powering through it to push myself slowly, and unsteadily, to my feet. "He led us here on purpose. That means it is for a reason—there is something he wants us to see. He won't have gone far from here."

Jugong makes a disgruntled sound of agreement as he slowly pushes himself to a seated position. I am practically yanked against his broad chest as he pulls me over and begins to nervously inspect me. I tolerate his sniffing at my head and his hand quickly running over me for a few minutes before I sidestep from his grasp with a short giggle. Although the pat of his hands is warm and comforting, the sniffing never fails to tickle just a little.

"I'm okay," I reassure him.

My gaze skims over him and I am relieved to see that his wings are whole. Although torn wings would mend in time, a flightless Giwung is a panicked and paranoid Giwung. Because of this, I am not the least surprised when he proceeds to meticulously inspect his wings. He would bear a broken limb without complaint, but the smallest damage to his wings could potentially threaten his life. Perhaps both of our lives given our surroundings.

I glance around uneasily. Although trees tower overhead, the ragged sides of the cliffside are far more up close and personal than I like, the pale yellow-green stone gleaming with the red pigment staining it. It definitely still looks like blood as close as I am as if the trees themselves are bleeding. I slowly tip my head back as my gaze rises and I shiver in response to the shadowy shapes taking form within the fog. Corpses sway above me. Although it is just an illusion made by the dead as they are caught in that endless loop of suffering, it still has the appearance of numerous bodies hanging from ropes among the branches of the trees. Hundreds, maybe thousands of bodies stretching out ahead and behind us for miles. It is not the wind moaning between the rocks and trees, but numerous voices moaning and sighing together, each one distinct and layered upon the others.

I swallow thickly, a shiver rushing through me. "That Lamentari forest… what did you say it was again?"

"Forest of sorrows," he replies distractedly. "It is haunted by those who died in great sorrow that they cannot move beyond it. It is inhabited by many terrible eaters of the dead that enjoy consuming their oozing energy dripping from them in bloody rivers and regenerating fleshy bits."

"Right," I mumble as I instinctively take an uneasy step back as a new trickle of blood spills off of a large leaf nearby. I make a desperate attempt at taking a steadying breath and nearly choke on it. "Well, good news is I think I know where we are at."

The way he freezes would almost be comical if I wasn't slightly panicking now. From the corner of my eye, I see his head turn toward me and then slowly tip back as if following my line of vision. His snarl of dismay, however, as he whips his head around to peer at our surroundings, I can feel straight down to whatever passes as bones in my current existence.

"That idiot wraith. He dumped us in the middle of the Lamentari Forest and through a portal no less—my wings will not work right for hours yet!" he announces with disgust as he gets to his feet and folds his wings carefully around him, the wing claws clasping over his chest. "This does not bode well. More fools become lost in these woods than not."

I shake my head. "I don't think we are lost, precisely. Lost suggests an unknown randomness factoring in location. I do not think that this place was chosen randomly. Whatever Nygohl is up to, it is clearly intentional."

"Then we find him and beat the directions out of him," Jugong replies sourly. "I am certain that I may even conveniently forget for a space of time how much I dislike the taste of wraith if he resists."

My lips briefly tip in amusement, not believing for a moment that he would sacrifice his own tastebuds to actually eat the wraith. Bite a chunk off him as a warning—yes. Eat him—not a chance. And that is only if we can find him.

I turn slowly, my eyes gradually dragging away from the swaying forms and their gaping mouths and pleading eyes directed sightlessly towards me and drifting back to the rocks. Blood is running over them in continuous streams, but there are some places where the blood seems smeared beyond its usual path. Tipping my head with curiosity, I step closer to the nearest rock and lean forward to peer at the blood, my fingers rising to trace in the air over the patterns I see there.

"Interesting," I murmur.

It seems as if the blood in these places is streaked as if fingers were drawn through it by someone touching the rocks of the cliff as they walked in a specific direction in the woods. My gaze lands on the nearest tree and notice a trace of the streak there as well as its dark bark. The next tree beside it bears a similar stain, marking a distinctive trail disappearing into the fog. I eye it for a long moment, considering my options.

We could always just stay put until Jugong's wings recover and then get an aerial view of a possible way out of the Lamentari Forest. Chances are that we will even get more lost, however, since the outer reaches have never been mapped, are of an unspeakable size to my understanding, and there is no knowing how big this forest specifically even is.

Waiting can also have some rather unfortunate repercussions if the predators lurking here realize that there is something tasty and new dumped into their woods.

The other option is to follow the trail and hope that it leads to the wraith. That is not any more appealing as it is likely a trap. Unfortunately, it is also the only option that seems even remotely viable.

Besides, trap or not, it doesn't matter to either the I&I or my superiors in reclamations. I can't return without Nygohl Vasheer. If it's a trap, it is at least a trap that will lead me to him. I walk in the direction of the blood streaks and give Jugong's arm a pat in passing both to reassure him and so that he will follow my lead. His soft grunt is his only response, but I sense and hear him fall into step behind me as we make our way deeper into the gorge.

The dense fog narrows the world to what is immediately visible in front of us and to either side of us, and yet I am confident that I am going the right way not only for smears of blood reappearing but for the occasional glimpse of something shadowy moving in the fog remaining just ahead of us. Is it Nygohl? Possibly.

Or it is something leading us for other reasons. Ghosts, like living people, can have those who are murderous and sadistic among their numbers.

Another shiver steals over me but I continue to follow. The trail of blood is getting thicker and heavier though I am not sure where this new blood is coming from. I am forced to sidestep more than one stream falling from the trees but none of these are near the wall of stone or those trees which are marked.

I begin to pant anxiously as tension slowly winds deeper through me. Jugong's growl is getting deeper and louder with his rising menace. Although he has been growling this entire time, it is becoming more and more aggressive with every passing moment. I don't even have to look back at him to know that his wings are unclasped and puffed out around him, his fur bristling with hostility. I can practically sense it with how close he is now hovering behind me.

A dark shadow suddenly moves with a violent speed, distracting me enough that I come to an immediate spot and turn defensively toward it, my blaster out of its holster and raised. To my surprise, the shadows rapidly condense and Nygohl steps forward, wisps of shadows trailing as they continue to cling to him, his hands raised.

"Not this way," he whispers, his voice projecting in its strange way that it doesn't fail to carry to my ears despite our distance. He glances warily in the direction of the thickening smears. "You are being hunted. You've gone the wrong way."

A chill falls over me and I glance toward the smears again, seeing a new pattern emerging with this thicker one, something that looks like numerous threads drawn tightly through it.

"What--?"

"Arachnacaras—spider fiends," he replies, his gaze trailing toward the trees. "They drink and feast what little they can gain from the tormented." His gaze drops grimly to me. "But they always prefer fresher, more substantial fare. You they would rend entirely to feed their brood and nestmates."

"Fuck. This is some fucked up purgatory," I remark as I step back. "I fucking hate spiders."

I take another step and am immediately encased in Jugong's wing as they close around me in a loud snap. I don't even object as that just puts an additional barrier between me and the creatures. I draw down the top of his wings just enough, however, so that I can see Nygohl. I give him a hard, questioning look and he gestures for me to follow.

"This way," his whisper comes again.

Jugong snarls at him suspiciously but falls silent when a loud skittering sound rises from the fog. His gaze rakes over the blood-soaked stones and he and I both peer at the fog. Something is moving out there. It is moving through the murk, the shadows sliding together, accumulating and gradually darkening. How many Arachnacaras are there in a nest?

I stare at it in horror but don't have the opportunity to form a proper reaction to it before I am suddenly captured firmly in his arms and lifted completely off of my feet. His wing clasp around me doesn't move in the slightest, and in fact seems to tighten around us as he whips around and heads, however reluctantly, in Nygohl's direction as the wraith slips through the forest ahead of us.

Nygohl, I realize, never stays in one form long as we move along some invisible trail in the forest. He shifts steadily between shadow and flesh in a steady movement fading in and out. I suspect that it is part of his defense mechanism. Perhaps even in hunting since there are advantages and disadvantages to both forms. I wonder if there are things that he can see in one form better than in others—perhaps even whatever trail he is taking.

I am certain that there must be a trail, or some sort of markers he is following because he moves confidently. Because of that I am not entirely surprised—nor thrilled—when we arrive at a half-fallen temple covered in strange markings and stained deeply with blood and what appears to be the inky remains of slain ghosts. The urge to throw up returns to me. This is a place of deep death. He can't seriously want to take me in there?

He turns and the smile that twists his lips and spreads across his face makes my stomach drop. Of course he does.

"This way," he beckons, slipping inside.

I inwardly curse even as I silently direct Jugong to follow. I may not know his intentions, but it is clear he isn't out to kill us or else he would have let us walk into the Arachnacaria nest. And there are still the same issues that require me to follow. All the same, as far as I'm concerned, going into death temples is way beyond my service contract.

"I am so lodging a fucking complaint when I get back," I mutter crossly.