by Ren Ryder
With his uncanny strength, I could imagine Fin Macool twisting destiny into a shape more to his liking.
“So you didn’t end up here by some mistake?” I asked.
Fin’s eyes burned with rage. “No. I was switched with a changeling— a fae child stole the life I should have had, my family, everything. Stinking cradle robbers. I was kept like some curio for all these years, and was still beaten for it— my humanity.” Waves of heat, hotter than the crackling fire, poured out of Fin. “I’m not going to just lay down and die like is expected of me. I’m going to fight.”
A little of Fin's heat seeped into me. He was vibrantly alive in a way I just, wasn’t. I admired it, whatever he held onto deep in his soul that let him burn so bright. What did he have that I was missing? What was it?
Shouldn’t I be angry, at destiny, at somebody— anything? If I could look at my life with fresh eyes, how would I change?
Fin picked up a log from our stockpile and tossed it onto the bonfire. The fire crackled, its flames leaping high. The silence stretching between us grew heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“You can turn in first. I’ll keep watch as promised. I’ll wake you later, once you’ve had a chance to rest.”
I’d been straining my eyes to keep my eyelids from drifting closed, so the offer was a welcome one. “Alright. I’ll take second turn at watch then.”
“I’ll stay up too!” Bell promised.
I smiled in soft disbelief. “Right.”
I grabbed the remains of Thorn’s shirt off the rock I’d left it drying on, then bundled it up to use as a pillow. I laid down to rest, nestling my staff against my body underneath one of my arms. My eyes closed and I was off to sleep long before I thought about how I was putting my life in Fin Macool’s hands.
Chapter Seven
I jerked awake from a forgotten dream. The sounds of the Darkwood filtered into my ears. Wind brushed against foliage of all types, creating a symphony of nature.
Stretching, I worked my way up to a sitting position.
I yawned. Cracked my neck. Rolled my shoulders. I felt, pretty good. Better than I’d expected to feel after a short rest, if I was being honest.
Bell was perched on the same rock I’d seen her before I’d dozed off, but she was laying in a hecka awkward position. I figured she’d tried to stay awake and ended up like that. Looked real uncomfortable.
I poked her in the midsection. “Hey. Psst, Bell. Hey, wake up.”
“What? I’m awake!”
“How was your turn at watch?” I joked.
“Hey, I tried really hard to stay awake, okay! It’s not my fault the sandman came to visit me!”
I snorted. “Sure, okay.”
Testing, I clenched and unclenched my hands. I had full range of motion, and they didn’t feel weak or anything. There wasn’t any pain, they just looked… weird. It looked like someone had tattooed a bunch of black dots all over the palms of my hands.
“Huh. Would you look at that. My hands, they’re… healed, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?”
I shrugged and held out my hands palm up. “See for yourself.”
Bell fake-vomited when she saw them. “Eww. Why do they look like that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Take a look at my back, will you?”
Bell buzzed around to my backside to get a look at the two deep furrows in my back. I’d felt a bit of a twinge when I woke up and stretched, but there hadn’t been the expected pain.
“Mmm. You’ve got new skin, it’s sort of blackish and gross? Like, super disgusting.”
I quested back with my hands to try and get a feel for what Bell was talking about. “Huh. You sure it’s not infected?”
“… maybe?”
“Try to sound more encouraging, would you?”
“Maybe~”
Fin was sitting still as a statue, facing away from the fire to preserve his night vision. He was so still that I’d processed him as part of the background. He’d thrown back on his huge, baggy shirt at some point, and it made him blend into the environs.
I sighed. That made me think about my own shirt. I really needed a new set of clothes. Still, I shook out the green hammy-down and shrugged into it. There were so many holes in it at this point that I wondered why I even bothered wearing it.
Bell pounced on the opportunity, diving head-first into my shirtfront pocket. I chuckled and looked down my nose at her.
“What? Got something to say? It’s comfy in here.”
I raised my hands in mute surrender.
“Hey, Fin. See anything?” I asked.
Fin grunted. “There’s activity. Some eyes on us, but nothing looking for a fight yet.”
“What do you think, I’ll take a turn at watch and then we can go our separate ways?”
Fin turned to look at me. He seemed to take my measure, feeling out my offer for what it was. “Sure, yeah. I could use some shuteye.”
Fin moved to the other side of the fire, closer to the waterhole. His spot was better for keeping watch, since it was closest to the tree line. If anything was going to pop out of the forest to take a bite out of us, that was the place to be.
“Mind if I do some whittling while you’re out?”
“I’m a heavy sleeper.”
I took that as a yes. “Alright then.”
I scrubbed the area I planned to sit in clear of pebbles, then settled in with my staff. I picked up a sharp rock from the ring around the fire and let it cool down awhile before I messed with it too much.
Crossing my legs, I inspected my staff in the firelight. The light-colored ashwood was covered in a coating of purplish-black blood, and the knotted wood had only the rough appearance of what one would consider a true quarterstaff.
Picking up the rock I’d set aside, I whittled both sides of the staff until I was satisfied with the rounded edges I’d made. Into each end I carved a plain circle. The staff was about my height by this point. Knots in the wood dotted the staff’s length, but I didn’t see an issue with them. Actually, I sort of liked the character they added.
I didn’t have anything to polish the wood with, plus I had a feeling that my blood was a pretty good conduit. If I could let it work its way into the wood, I might be better off for it.
My mind pictured the wind scythe I’d released in the Twilit Boundary. Was it inherently easier to concentrate and direct mana through a medium, like this staff? Concentrating on the sigil in my chest, I took an unhurried, wispy breath, then blew wind mana into the wood. The staff warmed in my hands, glowing silver.
I grinned.
Something caught in my peripheral vision, and the grin fell off my face. My hair stood on end and goosebumps appeared all over my body. I looked to the forest. Mirroring the crescent moon, a host of glowing eyes were arrayed in a half-circle at the forest’s edge.
A diminutive form stepped out of the shrubbery at the tree line and was cast in the light of the fire. The creature that revealed itself was small, green, and ugly. Pointed ears, sharp chompers. It wore little in the way of clothing, basically a sheet of leather covered the important bits.
A goblin?
I cursed my distraction. How long had they been gathering? I wanted to be relieved that it wasn’t something worse, but I didn’t feel relieved. I felt stupid for keeping Fin from going after the observer I’d sensed earlier. The goblin watching us emerge from the Twilit Boundary had friends, and they’d invited all of them to the party.
“Fin, psst, wake up!” I tried to inject a sense of urgency into my words.
No response. I tossed a pebble at his sleeping form without looking behind me, worried I’d ruin my night vision and give our enemy the opportunity they needed to strike. I could tell I’d hit him, but Fin didn’t wake. He really was a heavy sleeper.
Frustrated, I ignored Fin and focused on preparing myself for a fight, drawing out power from my source. Mana coiled off my skin and got trapped by my aura. Within a few breaths a thi
n veil of mana surrounded my body.
One last thing. I cut into the skin on the outer edge of my left wrist with the rock I’d been whittling with, then let my blood drip into the sleeping Bell’s mouth.
Bell didn’t react at all— at first.
“Mmm, tasty— more, I need more! Give it!” Bell latched onto my wrist and started sucking on the wound like a ravenous beast.
I stood and with my free arm tossed the rock straight at the most courageous goblin, but it missed and thunked into the trunk of a tree behind it. “Shoot.”
That toss broke the peace, though. Goblins of all shapes and sizes shot out of the tree line in a semi-coordinated rush. None of them screamed or made a sound, and somehow that was more frightening. They carried simple weapons fashioned from the Darkwood; sticks with sharpened stones attached by primitive twine were the most common.
The first goblin I’d sighted had the biggest head start, and just before it reached me it loosed a warbling, high-pitched scream. I winced but struck out with my staff before it could get into range. My strike sent the goblin reeling backwards, and a few of its goblin brethren peeled off to rip into it with their teeth and talons. Still, there were as many as fifty goblins rushing us, and many more goblins appearing from the trees.
Watching the goblins tear into their comrades made me nauseous. “They’re cannibals.”
“Let me at ‘em!” Bell said.
Bell zipped off, calling up gusts of wind as she went. She started gnawing on a goblin’s bald head, and that was when I knew she was lost in a blood craze.
Bell knocked the goblins off balance, and I had something else in store for the buggers. I crouched and swept my staff in a perpendicular arc, loosing a broad wind scythe at the oncoming rush of goblins.
The front line of goblins stepped back and tried to avoid the wind scythe, but their brethren piled in behind and trapped them. The scythe didn’t use up its energy until it passed clean through the goblins dog piled on top of each other. Between one step and the next the goblins stopped, then, their bodies bisected, pieces fell to the ground one after the other with a wet splat, splat, splat.
The smell was awful. I gagged and almost puked.
Most of the goblins in the rear didn’t hesitate to cannibalize the fallen goblins. So many goblins were held up by the impromptu feast that only a half-dozen or so remained committed to the attack. I knocked back one, crushed the windpipe of another with a straight, and followed through with a crushing blow to another goblin’s side.
The three remaining goblins hesitated after I’d made such quick work of the others, and I swept my staff around to take out another with a head blow. I would’ve gotten the last two in short order, but a volley of rocks from the trees caught me unawares. The whole area was pelted with stones, hitting me and the goblins near me. I covered my head and tucked my elbows into my ribs.
One of the two remaining goblins took the opportunity to bite into my leg like it was a steak dinner.
Bell buzzed over to the goblin latched onto me and started kicking it in the eyes until it squealed and ran off.
Fin roared awake. He tripped getting up and fell halfway into the fire. He roared again, and that did it. The horde of goblins scattered. Goblins guts-deep in their dead relatives dragged off arms and legs, sometimes whole torsos before making their getaway. Warbling screeches marked their retreat.
“Ha-ha, praise me peasants, for I am the greatest!” Bell said, her pupils huge and a shell-shocked grin on her face.
I started gagging, then I threw up a bit of bile and stomach acid. I spat to one side and wiped my mouth off.
“I did good? Praise me!” Bell spoke straight into my ear.
I gave her a thumbs-up. “Well, you did, sort of help, at least— unlike somebody.”
Fin patted himself down, putting out burning embers in his singed shirt. “I told you, I’m a heavy sleeper,” Fin said, sounding defensive.
I nestled my staff in the crook of my bicep and grasped the haft in my right hand. With the element of surprise goblins might make a much scarier adversary, but this night the horde’s ambush fell flat. I’d been lucky to get through the encounter as unscathed as I was.
Fin rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Goblins?”
I nodded. “Nasty buggers.”
Fin scratched the stubble on his chin. “I’ve never seen more than one or two together in one place, but then, this is the Darkwood. You run them off for good you think?”
I thought about how the goblins had dragged off the remains of their dead. “Yeah, I think they got their fill, though not the way they’d planned.”
“Well, I don’t imagine I’ll sleep any more. Thank you for keeping watch, but I think it’s past time we go our separate ways, don’t you agree?”
I nodded slow, a bit reluctant to agree.
Fin must have noticed. “This is my one opportunity to take back the life that was stolen from me, and I can’t continue to risk it by traveling alongside you. We’re supposed to be in competition with one another, so let’s compete. And don’t speak of our prior arrangement, if you please,” Fin said, his tone turning business-like.
I forced out a smile. “Why don’t you set off first? I’m going to stick around and clean out this bite wound. I can take a different route so we don’t run into each other by accident.”
Fin nodded and turned to leave. “Watch yourself out there. I don’t know much about the Darkwood, but everything I’ve heard has me wary.”
“Right. You too, watch yourself,” I returned. “See you on the other side.”
Fin didn’t hesitate, he picked a direction and set out. “See you,” he cast back over his shoulder.
“… bye.”
“And good riddance!” Bell yelled at his retreating back.
Chapter Eight
I was washing my leg in the waterhole when…
Clop clop, clop clop, clop clop. Clop clop, clop.
I turned to see a wild horse appear on the other side of the waterfall. It shook its head and neighed when it saw me, but moved to the water’s edge without pause. Its long tongue scooped up water for but a moment before the horse submerged its whole face underneath the surface.
The horse was a deep gray in color, near but distinct from black. A beautiful saddle adorned with rubies and sapphires sat astride its back. Its reins and bridle looked to be lost, though. The horse looked like it had survived a difficult river crossing; shells and watercress were stuck in its mane.
Had it lost its rider?
I could certainly benefit from the steed’s speed, if it would let me ride it. It seemed friendly enough, so I decided to approach it cautiously.
I starting walking the long way around the waterhole towards it, keeping my body language nonthreatening. “Here here, horsey,” I spoke in low tones, “I won’t hurt ya. That’s right, good—” I looked down, “good boy.”
The horse neighed and reared up onto its back legs, and I stopped moving altogether. I had no desire to get struck by those hooves, so I waited. It fell back onto all four legs then struck sparks with its front hooves.
The gray’s attention seemed fixed on my staff, so I set it aside to show my empty palms. “There there, look, I put down the scary stick.”
The gray snorted and shook its head, seeming to calm a bit. Its wet mane spattered water around it, sending ripples across the waterhole. I edged closer to just outside the range of its kick. Then I waited, patient, letting the horse come to me. I tried to exude friendliness.
The gray stretched out its neck to smell my hand. It snorted and I thought it might bolt, but it clopped closer to nudge me with its head. I laughed, then stroked the horse on the underside of its jaw. Moving slow, I patted its neck and grabbed the saddle horn, placed my foot in a dangling stirrup, and swung up and into the saddle.
“Well, would you look at that.” I took in the view from the gray’s back, a bit pleased with myself.
The horse stepped a few feet into the waterh
ole, then bent its head to drink deep.
“Hah! Hey, Bell, quick, you’ve gotta see this. Look! I found a horse! We’re going to make short work of this trial,” I said, giddy.
“Kal,” Bell infused my name with deadly seriousness.
The horse’s muscles grew taut with tension, and I tightened my legs around the trunk of its body in response. It reared back on its hind legs, and I was forced to grab hold of its neck or fall off.
Uneasy, I shifted in the saddle. “Bell?”
“That’s no horse— it’s a kelpie. Get off it. Get off, right now.”
The kelpie’s eyes glowed crimson. It made a high-pitched noise; I could’ve sworn it was laughing.
I tried to let go, but my arms and legs were stuck fast. Even my ass felt like it was glued to the saddle.
“Motherf—” The gray horse leapt forward, straight into the waterhole.
I didn’t even have enough warning to take a breath. My lungs burned as we went under. Attached to the kelpie’s back like some sea barnacle, I fought with all my might to get free, but it was like I was shackled in place by invisible chains.
The kelpie cut through the water like a fish, diving deep into the dark center of the waterhole, into its impenetrable depths.
If I was magically bound, then I needed to fight my restraints with magic, not brute strength.
Power poured off me in waves as I fought to muster forth as much mana from my source as I could bear. It felt like drawing water from a deep well without the benefit of a pulley system. My body brimmed with power and felt like it might burst from the strain, a strain not unlike holding my breath with no air to spare. A sheen of spectral energy lit up as my mana interacted with the kelpie’s restricting power.
My ears popped from the pressure as we sunk like a stone. My lungs screamed for air. I tilted my head back to see the surface receding above me. I was an alarming distance underwater, in the deep black where light couldn’t penetrate.
I tried to replicate Bell’s soft weave of wind. My workings broke almost as soon as I formed them. Bubbles exploded around us from my failed attempts, but I couldn’t suck down any of them without drowning.
