7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

T he first six weeks on the road pass quickly as we are blessed with sunny, uneventful days and plenty of wild game to consume. By the time we make it past the Great Brevton Gorge, I've salivated over every recipe in my travel book, and started on the book the strange merchant gave me. I've read about a quarter of it up to this point and learned a bit of history about the fae courts. After clearing Feng Forest, we came upon a large rune-covered stone archway near a river and decided it was a good enough place as any to stop for the night.

"Throw me my bag while you're up," I shout over my shoulder to Eoin. I shift around, trying to find a more comfortable place for my back to rest against this old dead tree. My muscles ache from the last several days of training.

"While I'm up?" Eoin yells over the sounds of rushing water and the crackling fire. "I'm literally in the river washing my ass. You're a meter away. Why can't you get it?"

I sigh vehemently, making sure he hears every ounce of my displeasure. "I'm dying. I've never trained so hard for anything in my life. I'm not sure if I'll even be able to walk again come morning." I slowly tip over onto the cool ground and stare into the fire. "You can just leave me here. This is where I live now."

Eoin exits the river, and the dry, dead grass crunches beneath his bare feet as he approaches our fire.

"You're ridiculous." He passes me with a blanket wrapped around his hips and hangs his wet clothes on our makeshift clothesline beside mine. "I told you we were going to train even harder these last three weeks while we had the extra game to eat, and it's paid off." I groan again, and Eoin graciously tosses my bag at me before he sits by the fire.

"We've got about a four-day ride through this prairie. There won't be as much to eat, so we will ease up a bit on the training and focus more on techniques and fundamentals. I think you're ready to leave the training swords behind." He digs through his bag and pulls out his herbs. "I'm really impressed with how quickly you've absorbed everything, Bron. You should be proud." He grabs his pipe and lights it, leaning back against the stone archway.

"Proud?" I sit up and wince. I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of cattle. "I'm still horrendous. I thought I would have a better grasp of this by now."

"Oh, come on. Give yourself some credit. It'll take someone at least thirty seconds to stab you now instead of five. For now, you'll just have to rely on your magical talents and your handsome protector."

"Speaking of my magical ‘talents' as you say. . . you know how my magic cast is super rare. Do you know why?"

Eoin pulls the tea kettle from the fire. "Because they kill any they come across."

"Well, yes but the real reason. The reason they started killing them . . . us. The book says there was a large group of Sirens on an island that would lure men out and literally fuck them to death." I raise my eyebrows at him and sip my tea. "I guess it was such a problem that the Crusaders eliminated them all entirely."

"That's fucked up," he says, and I wonder which part of the story he's referring to.

"You should be wary of what you're reading in there. Clearly, at least some of it is inaccurate. They didn't eliminate all of them." He gestures to my blanket-wrapped form.

We sit in silence for a few moments while the sun dips below the horizon and the wide-open prairie sky turns a deep purple. There's so much peace and stillness in this moment. I lay on my back, taking it all in. "This is what I want."

"Hmm?" Eoin pours more steaming water into our two wooden cups and carefully hangs the kettle back over the fire.

"You asked me earlier what I'd spend my earnings on. This is what I want: wide open skies, views for days, simple living off the land." I sigh and close my eyes, picturing it. "Maybe my farm can have sheep or something—an honest life with friends and companionship. Somewhere I'm free to be me without fear or judgment."

"It has been nice not having to pretend out here," Eoin agrees. "I'm sure Tomas would love visiting your sheep farm."

I hope Tomas doesn't feel like we've abandoned him. He took a liking to me when he came to the orphanage, and since he was only four, I helped take care of him. As we grew older together, we bonded over not remembering our parents. Since Eoin was fifteen when his parents died, our grief was a little different than his. I wonder if Eoin and I would have even become such good friends if not for Tomas.

I sigh and roll over, pulling my blanket up over my shoulder. The sky is cloudless, so we don't bother setting up our tent. We will sleep under the stars tonight.

***

Morning comes, and I quietly pull my dry clothes from the line and slip them on, careful not to wake Eoin. It looks like he must have put his on sometime after I fell asleep. I take a few moments to pack up my belongings and venture down towards the river. The morning dew dampens my boots as I pass through the grass.

The red and pink sky reflects across the water, and I frown at my reflection. My full lips are chapped, and my light brown hair appears even darker in the rippling dark water. Wild wavy strands blow in the breeze and I tuck some of it behind my slightly pointed ears to no avail. I try my best to tie it up, but I still have several loose hairs tickling the corners of my face.

My heart leaps as I spot some of my favorite mushrooms down a way, and look over my shoulder to see if Eoin is still asleep.

"Damn you, Dhara. Why couldn't you have shown these to me yesterday while my clothes were still wet or while I was bathing?"

I take my boots off and sigh, rolling up my pants as far as I can. I wade through the water to the little marshy alcove ahead. The knee-deep water is cool, and the velvety squish between my toes makes me want to gag. However, my efforts are rewarded with a good handful of tiny mushrooms. I stuff them in my hip pouch and turn to head back. A subtle snap, like the break of a wishbone, cuts through the air.

I freeze in place and hold my breath, listening to my surroundings. Time seems to tick on for eternity. Maybe it was Eoin. I start moving as slowly and quietly as I can through the alcove toward solid land. The birds are silent, and my breath, no matter what I do, seems entirely too loud. I try to shake the feeling of being watched.

I flinch as two ravens take flight from the tree above me and call out. Dark mist starts to creep into the peripherals of my vision, and I feel that dreaded tugging sensation. Not again; I shake my head and unsheathe the dagger at my thigh before charging up to dry land with false bravado. I crest the top of the bank.

Eoin is still asleep, the horses too. Out the corner of my eye, the tall prairie grass moves as if something stalks through it. It's gaining speed. I clutch my dagger tight, frozen in place.

What emerges from the grass is a creature I've never seen or heard of before, not even in the faery tales the sisters told to us at the orphanage.

The monster's head is just a skull, bone white, with antlers emerging from the top and red glowing eyes. It rises higher and higher as it lengthens its goat-like legs and now stands twice as tall as our horses.

"Eoin!" I scream at the top of my lungs and run towards the campsite. As I close the gap between us, Eoin jumps up and grabs his sword. This is second nature for him.

The creature bellows so loud I can feel it through my bones, reverberating in my chest. I rush up to Eoin and grab my sword as well.

Eoin pivots, positioning himself between the creature and myself. One of the horses screams, and they both tug feverishly at their tethers. The creature swings a massive, clawed hand and strikes the first horse in the side, ripping her open. The other horse screams and breaks free, leaving us in a cloud of dust.

The creature swings again, this time for us. Eoin twists towards the beast while raising his sword in the air, taking its hand clean off. It roars again and retreats a couple of steps. Blood sprays, painting rufous streaks through the tall golden prairie grass.

I throw my dagger toward the beast's throat, missing again but hitting it in the chest. This seems to infuriate it even more as it lowers its gaze on us and lets out a low, unearthly growl.

To my left, Eoin grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. The creature takes two more steps toward us.

Time seems to slow down, and the edge of my vision becomes dark and fuzzy once again. Much more rapidly, I feel myself being pulled away.

I lose all control. I watch helplessly as I yank my hand from Eoin's. I wrestle with my mind, panicking, trying to regain control of my body. Stepping toward the beast, I let out a feral roar that sends chills up my spine. A part of me wants to rip the beast's throat out. I've never felt such rage. I want to drink his blood.

The beast, taken aback, stumbles backward.

Out of nowhere, a lightning bolt splits the sky and strikes the grass near the beast, catching it aflame. The beast lets out a hollow-sounding scream and stumbles backward as the fire races outwards. Flames cling to it's leg and climb onto its torso as it continues to screech. The smell of burning grass and hair permeates the air.

The force of the beast falling lifelessly onto its back throws sparks and embers through the thick dark smoke like glittery stars through the night sky.

"We have to get out of here!" Eoin yells as he pulls at my arm. The fire spreads, flames licking up in a wild frenzy. The heat of it is unbearable. I blink my eyes, now blurry with stinging tears.

I regain control and we grab our bags, rushing towards the river. I slip my boots back on with urgency as the fire races towards us, rapidly consuming the dry dead grass.

The creature is still, and the smoke, so thick now, seems to turn day into dusk. I pause, peering through the smoke at the wavering silhouette of a man and woman standing near the archway. A raven swoops down and lands on the woman's shoulder, and the man raises a hand toward the sky.

Eoin pulls me, and we stumble down the riverbank, coughing and wiping away tears. We get as low as we can and wade our way into the water, bags strapped to our backs.

The river gets deeper and picks up speed, battering us against rocks and fallen branches as it pulls us relentlessly downstream. I float just out of Eoin's reach, and desperation fills my lungs as we seem to have traded one crisis for another. Dark clouds above release a downpour of cold rain, raising the water and hastening the tumultuous current.

"Eoin!"

He reaches a hand for me, and I thrash and fight against the stream. Adrenaline surges as my body slams into another submerged tree. Water breaks against me as I'm momentarily stuck.

Eoin approaches. I stretch my hand out again for his, water splashing over my face and into my nose. His fingertips brush across mine as he rushes past me in the roaring white water. A broken sob escapes my throat.

"Hang on! We're almost through the worst of it," Eoin calls from ahead.

The gap between our floating bodies grows. I untangle myself from the branches and push forward, desperate to reach him.

The current drags me and twists me as if I were in the mouth of a gator, slamming me against rock and limb and pulling me under.

Seconds or hours pass, and the water slows. White rapids turn to rushing dark water, and Eoin swims toward me against the current.

A tug on my right ankle and the unwavering current pulls me underwater. The tension in my ankle when I pull tells me I'm jammed up in something big. I flex my muscles and fold downward, feeling blindly at my boot and the roots around it. I tug with my muscles and my hands to no avail. My lungs burn. Gods dammit.

I unbuckle my boot just as a pair of arms wrap around my middle, pulling me up. My head breaks the water, and I gasp.

Eoin pulls me ashore, and we both collapse, heaving for breath. I lie on my back and a laugh escapes me, quickly turning to a sob. We almost died—twice. We must be miles off track, and we don't have horses. And I'm missing my gods damned boot.

Exhausted and sore, we find a spot on the bank to rest for a couple of hours and make a plan.

"I have a good idea where we are, but I'm not one hundred percent sure." Eoin pulls our wet map from his bag and takes in our surroundings. "I can see Mount Stonegate here to the West, so we still may be able to make it in time. We will just have to come in from the East now instead of the South." Eoin points to the mountain range across the river. My whole body trembles, and my teeth chatter.

"You're going into shock. We need to get you warm." Eoin stands and holds out a hand to help me up.

Rain continues to pour down relentlessly. We find a large pine tree, thick with branches and needles that offers some shelter. When we sit, he pulls my back up to his chest, rubbing up and down my arms vigorously. I can't stop chattering. He rubs harder and pulls me in tighter. His warmth seeps into my back and I lean into him for several moments.

The rain slows, and he leaves me to set up the tent. My mind wanders to the creature in the woods and when I lost control. What is happening to me?

A quick, sharp panic hits me when I notice the vast, hollow feeling in my core. My magic is extremely low. I must have been actively healing while in the river.

"Are you okay?" I scan Eoin up and down but find nothing more than a couple of scrapes and bruises.

"I'm fine. I didn't hit that tree like you did. We will rest another day. I've got the tent set up, and we can figure out a plan for tomorrow." He helps me up. "Lie down. I'll get a fire going and see if I can find us some food." Eoin holds the tent flap open for me. "Oh, toss out your shirt and pants, and I'll dry them by the fire, too."

I remove my boot and ring out my hair by the tent before entering. I toss out my clothes, leaving just my undershirt and underwear on, and notice a purple bruise on my thigh that hasn't healed yet. I concentrate, trying to use the traces of magic I have left, and a drop of blood falls from my nose. I squeeze my eyes shut with the sudden sharp pain in my head. Maybe I shouldn't use it when it is so low.

I lie down in the damp tent and drift easily off into a dreamless sleep.