48. Chapter Forty-Eight

Gods help me, Arken was in one Hel of a mood tonight.

Earlier in the week, she mentioned some passing plan about how she intended to go foraging for herbs in the Wyldwoods. Apparently, she was hoping to find some herbs and other medicinal plants similar to what she might have gathered back home, seeming to be convinced that they grew in our woods as well.

“It’s for tea,” she had explained to me over breakfast, before her lectures began. “I haven’t been able to find anything like what Amma used to make for sore muscles, and if I have to go through another godsdamned bleeding cycle without that blend, I’m going to commit crimes. Crimes, K.”

“That would be awfully ill-advised, considering I would then have to arrest you,” I had quipped back.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Even though I had tried my best to keep my tone casual when I offered to come along, she saw straight through me that morning, too—immediately giving me shit and very vehemently reminding me that she was capable of taking care of her damn self. Nevermind the fact that she was still working on her physical training regimen, and hadn’t even re-tested for Physical Arcana yet.

“I’m well aware, Little Conduit,” I had replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. “But if you want darkmoss, that means foraging at night. If you’re going at night, please just take me with you.”

She’d rolled her eyes, but gave in without much fuss.

“Fine, suit yourself. Meet me at Mugwort’s around dusk on Friday—but it’ll be boring,” she warned.

I could probably watch paint dry with Arken and not get bored, but I wouldn’t dare tell her that. It’d go right to that pretty little head of hers.

But here we were now, standing in front of the old man’s shop. I noticed her slight winces as she approached me, and before I could even open my mouth, the woman snarled out a warning.

“Don’t you start with me, Vistarii. I’m fine. Can we go now?”

“Hello to you, too, Miss Asher. Lovely day we’re having. Lovely weather,” I replied, unphased.

I would keep an eye on those winces, though, and the way she nursed her side a bit as she walked. She had overdone it on strength training the other day—pulled a muscle. It was a minor injury, and she was tough, but if things got too bad, I would carry her ass out of the woods if need be. We’d see how much bravado that short, bratty little thing could muster while thrown over my shoulder.

“Do you have all the supplies you need?” I asked before we made our way to the Eastern Gates.

She wiggled her small muslin-lined basket and flapped a pair of worn but supple looking brown leather gloves in my direction.

“I think I’m covered. Foraging isn’t a particularly complex task, Kier.”

Fair enough.

As we walked silently through the Wyldwoods, I cast my Shadow out to scout the area nearby, vigilant but unseen. Arken began to gather all the little leaves, petals and mushrooms she needed to make this so-called miracle tea. I kept my focus on our surroundings.

When I had first learned how to use arcana like this, the spell effects were visible—a sheer but inky, black mist that sort of defeated any purposes I had for it. So I had altered the magick myself, tweaking the focus so that as I extended my Shadows, they crept around for me where Shadow aether already existed, slinking around corners and crevices, expanding my senses. It was essentially like having eyes and ears everywhere at once, and though it was a draining practice, it was incredibly useful. For situations like this, in particular.

Somewhere, about fifty feet behind us, my arcane sentinel detected a sharp crack, followed by an unnatural flood of Earth aether.

“Arken. Stop. Listen to me,” I whispered urgently in her direction.

She turned to me sharply, hair whipping behind her in a wild halo like I’d somehow managed to irritate a lion… or a godsdamned manticore.

“No, you listen to me, Vistarii. I’m sure you get off on ordering people around but—”

She paused to scowl at the hint of a smirk that I had tried my best to contain. Due to the severity of the situation, I decided to put a pin in exactly what her phrasing was bringing to my mind.

“Might I remind you that I literally grew up in a forest?” she hissed.

“Asher, shut the fuck up for a second!” I hissed sharply under my breath, glaring as I put one finger over my lips.

I didn’t have time to explain to her that the northern Brindlewoods of Samhaven, while dangerous enough in their own right, had nothing on what these Wyldwoods could conjure. The Brindlewoods didn’t grow over top the singlemost point of leyline convergences in Atlas.

“Listen. Do you hear anything? Anything at all?”

Because I didn’t. The entire forest had gone silent after that crack—that flood of aether. There were no chirping birds, no chittering rodents, not even a damn cricket. Arken froze, her eyes going wide with understanding. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I took a deep breath then, closing my eyes and focusing hard on my extended senses, trying to detect the source.

I had immediately clocked the aetherflood as one of Earth, but there was something else I felt, too—a dark presence. An aberration.

My Shadows continued to spread further into the woods, acting as my eyes and ears until I found it. Just about fifty meters away now and headed in our direction, albeit slowly. This arcana didn’t allow me to fully see things beyond my natural line of sight, but I could detect the shape of things for the most part, so long as the thing was living. If it had aether—which it did.

What was it, though?

The beast was crouched down in a thick brush, behind a pile of jagged rock and gnarled, rope-like branches that almost looked like bands of muscle, swaying in the wind. Except there was no wind blowing tonight. The air had been still and misty since morning.

Another sharp snap, and suddenly the creature was no longer crouching.

Those weren’t branches. They were arms.

Oh Hel no.

“Don’t. Move,” I whispered, casting a frantic, pleading glance in Arken’s direction.

Anger flashed in her eyes and she opened her mouth again, most assuredly to argue. With a fast flick of my wrist, I summoned a wispy, semi-corporeal raven—a Shadowspeaker. I sent the specter towards her, silently flapping its wings and landing gently on her shoulder. As I spoke the words into the temporary arcane bond, no sound came from my mouth, but she would hear them within her mind so long as the raven was touching her.

Listen to me for once in your life, Arken. Do. Not. Move. Do. Not. Speak. I understand that you’re in a mood, but there is something extremely dangerous in these woods right now. Something that shouldn’t be here. If you focus on the raven, you can speak back to me with your thoughts. And I’ll hear you. But please, woman, I am begging you right now. Don’t make a sound. It hasn’t scented us yet.

A flash of panic crossed her face, but she remained silent and still and I almost exhaled a heavy sigh of relief when I saw her nod.

I didn’t know Shadow Conduits could do this, she sent through our invisible tether.

Most can’t, I replied. She raised an eyebrow.

I’ll explain later.

I wouldn’t, but hopefully by the time we escaped this ordeal she would forget about it… Or I’d manage to come up with a decent lie.

Where is it, Kieran… And what is it?

It was… a problem.

The Leshen were not native to Aemos, but rather creatures that had crawled through the cracks within these woods and several others during the Cataclysm. Dark beasts that fed on aether, particularly Earth aether. Tall, faceless monsters of bark and bone, existing only to feed. To harvest. Born of the Abyss, and not the false one that the people of Aemos believed to be the horrifying afterlife of the damned. The true Abyss. The void.

Leshen were harbingers of death where I came from, and for good reason. They were incredibly dangerous, and incredibly hard to kill. They were also incredibly fast. Too fast for us to flee. I silently sheathed my sword at my hip, drawing my daggers in each palm instead.

Scáthic blades for Scáthic monsters.

About forty meters now, northeast. Time for a Bios quiz, Little Conduit. Have you ever heard of the Leshen?

Oh, fuck.

Yeah. Fuck.

What do we do?

You stay put. If I can take it by surprise, I’ll have a better chance at taking it down before it scents us both.

You’re asking me to stay behind while you go try to take down a deadly daemon single-handedly?!

I glared at her.

That is exactly what I am telling you to do.

Screw that. I’m coming with you.

Source be damned. Of all the times for Arken to choose to be stubborn. I suppressed a groan of frustration.

Also, they’re not technically daemons. Not exactly. They came here from the Shadow Plane, but they originated on the Plane of Earth. All of the Leshen used to be dryads.

Thus their insatiable hunger. A single Leshy could drink Aemos dry of all the Earth aether that the realm contained and still want for more. Nothing could ever compare to the near endless font of Earth to be found in their homelands. How it is that the dryads came to find themselves on the Shadow Plane and become such twisted, corrupted versions of their once-peaceful selves was beyond me. It had apparently happened thousands of years ago. All I knew is that whatever had been done to the dryads produced something… evil. Wrong. Like they were agony and vengeance incarnate.

This wasn’t my first encounter with one, but every time, I begged the Source to let it be the last.

Thank you for the Bios lesson, Kieran. But seriously, what the fuck do we do?

If Arken refused to stay put, I was left with no choice. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—force her to stay behind. But if she came with me to take this thing down, I needed her to be an asset and not a liability, lest we get ourselves killed.

Do you remember how to summon those aetherblades, Little Conduit?

Yep.

Okay. Bring ’em out. And look at me for a sec, I instructed silently, waiting to catch her glance and confirm she was paying attention. Her eyes had been darting all over the forest, searching for the threat.

They’re faceless, but humanoid in shape. Aim here, I explained through the raven, pointing at the space between my neck and collarbone. Or here, I pointed at my midsection, just below the ribcage.

How comfortable are you with wielding the Light daggers so far?

We hadn’t even touched aetherblades in our training sessions thus far, but she had summoned one quick enough in the alley with Anders. You know, the same exact day she had even learned how.

Comfortable enough, Arken replied.

Good. I’m going to keep you shielded to the best of my ability, but stay away from the talons. Their poison works fast. If you make a clean hit in either of those two places, though—light it the fuck up. Give it all you’ve got, Ark. Pull from me if you have to. Light will probably do some serious damage against it, given that they’re Shadow-aligned.

She gave me a quick nod of understanding, her brow furrowing with focus.

Follow my lead, okay? I’m going to cloak us and silence our footsteps as much as I can, but as soon as we’re within 15 feet or so, the Leshy will scent us and it’s going to be time to fuck shit up.

Let’s go fuck shit up, then, Captain.

Despite the danger and the intensity of the situation, I couldn’t help but return her wry smile.