4. Arrick

Chapter four

Arrick

I sense them. The hint of magic in the air isn't strong, but it's something. I've been chasing the wisps for days.

A task I dismissed as simple now occupies all my time.

The magic floating in the forest beats like a steady drum, but when I reach out to touch it, to sense its origin, it slips through my fingers like sand.

I realized the severity of the problem when the wraith came through. Since then, more creatures of nightmares have crossed into our lands.

I've seen signs of the kelpie, anc, and chimera invading my forest like locusts.

The tiny creatures have evaded me for, days.

I have a magic bond with every creature that lives in this forest naturally, and it's usually a comfort to feel them, to be one with the land I'm spelled to protect.

Now I note their fear, and it shakes me from my sleep in a cold sweat most nights.

I rest my palm on an ancient pine, and feel the pulse of life behind the rough bark. The wisps are everywhere and nowhere. Their signal is hazy, as if looking through glass that has been tumbled by the sea.

Where are you?

The connective roots of the ancient trees used to tell me so much. I shake my head, removing my palm from the pulse of foggy magic that is doing more harm than good.

Magic still crackles in the air, so I follow it. Miles and miles pass under my feet, and the sense grows no stronger or weaker.

Sweat beads at the nape of my neck and on my brow, the heat of the midday sun wrecking my concentration. I'm so exhausted. I require sleep and some peace.

Another sensation calls to my magic, and I follow it off the trail.

A glen of wildflowers is circled with a large fairy ring. They are magnifying the power sources here. Fuck, they are tapping into fairy magic now.

This is not good.

I cast a fog over the glen, and a dense cloud materializes at my command, sitting low over the colorful wildflowers, a warning to anything passing that this place is dangerous.

Once back on the trail, an odd scent wafts through the air, something dueling with the heavy haze of the afternoon humidity, a scent at first light and floral, then putrid and sinister.

I pick up my pace, chasing the fragrance. It is coming from the direction of the river sprite's den, and I wonder what kind of mischief the creature is up to this time of day. Sprites sleep during the day and are active in the morning and at twilight.

The reek of rot grows more substantial when I reach the riverbank. Crouching low, I examine the creek bed for the source of the stomach-churning aroma.

Next to the sprite's den, there's something balled up, wearing unnaturally colored fabrics. It's a human. I sniff the air again, but the sweet smell floods my nostrils and mixes slightly with the sour one.

It is a woman. Her legs are tucked to her chest, and a wild mess of curls jut out from two braids. She has small black leg coverings that only stretch down to mid-thigh and a top so pink it is the color of the sunset after a storm.

Her focus on the small pool at her feet makes me wonder if she's searching for the sprite. I fill my lungs with another big inhale, trying to distinguish her scent from the others.

When my senses are flooded with that horrid scent, bile rises in my throat. That's not coming from her. I rise to my feet, splashing into the water, pulse beating a frantic thud in my ears, but I'm too late.

The afanc morphs to full-size behind her, dwarfing her. It raises its massive, leathery tail, winds it back, and strikes. The loud sound echoes off the rocks and into the canyon. I don't reach them in time, and they disappear into the endless depths of the sprite's den.

From the outside, the water looks clear and pristine. The rounded pastel pebbles at the pool's bottom are visible, but it's just an illusion—a spell protecting the sprite's dwelling and the hidden turmoil beneath.

I go in head first. The once-clear mountain pool is now murky, barely letting the light of day penetrate the surface. Air bubbles rise from below, and I push off, following their direction .

The afanc has her foot in a vice-grip, pulling her deeper and deeper. She kicks and pulls at the creature, but its jaws are too strong. It is too strong. Blood gushes from the wound and dissipates in the mossy-green depth.

Her movements go from jerky and panicked to still. I thrust myself at the creature, using my power to propel me. I place my palm on its leathery skin and loose the magic I was born with.

The Afanc vanishes with a heave of water, turning into a million tiny bubbles that rise slowly to the surface.

I wrap my arms around the woman's waist, holding her soft body to mine. We breach the surface. I take in a lung full of air and let it burn down my chest as each cell swells again with oxygen.

She is not breathing. Panicked, I hoist her over me and onto the flat stone lining the den. Her full lips have gone slightly blue, and panic rushes me, causing heat to creep up my neck and my heart to throb in my chest.

Her pulse is slow, so I pick her up and rest her on my lap with her head propped over my shoulder. I run my hands over her back, using my magic to scan her, sensing for where she has taken on water. When I reach the infected area, I lose my power again, softly this time.

She coughs. Water spills from her mouth and then runs down my back. She is gasping and heaving but alive.

Nervous that my appearance will frighten her more, I move upstream a bit and out of her direct line of sight.

She is on all fours now, water still expelling from her lungs in torrents.

Despite the bank appearing calm, I still scan the river. I don't smell or sense another Afanc, but they're not something I'm used to encountering .

There it is again, that familiar feeling of helplessness. It washes over me in waves, and I inadvertently tighten my fists at the sensation.

To my horror, I don't hear coughing anymore. My attention wavered as I strained to detect another predator. Now, the sensation of eyes burning into me rips at my flesh, my soul.

I turn to look at her. Scared, angry, honey-colored eyes rake over me, making me feel naked. I reach my thoughts out to her. I'm not here to harm you. A beast attacked, and I saved you . But the words bounce back as if they are met by a wall of pure onyx. Shit, this will not be easy.

I hold my hands up, palms out in a gesture I hope will appear unthreatening. It is ineffective, and she kicks off the rock, plunging herself back into the shallow river.