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34. Leshi Forest II (The Hag)

Chapter 34

Leshi Forest II (The Hag)

For a heartbeat, Mags felt as if she’d stepped into some kind of fever-dream. She blinked once, twice—frozen in place at what she had just witnessed, just heard. Am I going mad? she couldn’t help but think. The old woman’s head was speaking—no, chiding her. And it was impossible to ignore, eyes locked onto her with unsettling clarity.

“Going to stand there and gape, are you?” the head snapped, voice sharp and thoroughly unimpressed. “Or did Celestine send two scared little pups thinking that would be enough? I expected a hound!” She scoffed, her lips curling in what might’ve been a grin. “I’ve seen squeaky rats with more pluck.” Gore spilled out of the bottom of her neck where the blade had severed her from her body. “Now look at me, making a mess all over the forest floor!” The wrinkled face twisted into a deep, pained frown. “How dreadful is this.”

Mags exchanged a glance with Calcabrina, who had, to Mags’ surprise, shifted back to her human form, shoulders squared and eyes fierce. Are we doing this? Mags thought. The look of determination in the other young woman’s eyes was the only answer she needed. Right, we’re doing this.

They both stepped forward, keeping their movements measured, trying to ignore the rapid beat of their hearts. Mags tightened her grip on Mithra’s hilt, the familiar weight of the Ivaldi blade grounding her.

“What is Weles’ name is going on here?” Calcabrina demanded. Her voice was a mixture of forced confidence and wariness.

The skeletal man looked over with eyes that seemed far too wide for his gaunt face, a ghost of a smile stretching thinly across his lips. “No place to invoke the name of a dead god, girly. Only black magic to be found here,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. He spat onto the old woman’s lifeless, headless body.

The broader man, face oily with sweat, swung the old woman’s head around by her hair, smirking. The old lady cursed him. “Ain’t none of your business, assuming you wandered down from that temple up on the bluffs. We need her head.”

“What do you mean, you need her head?” Mags spat. Not to mention, why in the hells is her head speaking?

The man stopped spinning the head. “Our friend back at our ship is in a bad spot. Was ‘bout to be pinched and locked in Tartarus—but we don’t quit on our friends. We heard . . . rumors, let’s call them, that boiling a Hag’s head can cure it.”

“A Hag?” Mags had memories of the old women in Solstice telling tall-tales while knitting, children gathered around at the foot of their chairs. Tales of Hags living deep within the Ulava Woods, who would spirit away unfortunate children who wandered too deep or too late into the dark forest.

“That’s right,” interjected the skeletal man. “Think nice old broads live alone in a forest such as this. Or can continue to gab after having their bloody head chopped—can you please shut her up?!” He shot a glare at his compatriot, and the Hag’s head that was continuing to swear and spit at the two men.

The large man continued to spin the head.

The skinny man continued. “Better to deal with her like this than keep her lying around. You know Hags aren’t to be trusted. A dangerous creature, Hags. And this one . . . well, who’s to say what it might be up to with you lot so close. Innocent, pious girls.”

Does he seriously think we’re priestesses? Mags glanced at Calcabrina. Despite having spent some time at Bijel Garden, the young woman didn’t give off the appearances of someone who spent her waking hours tending to an isolated temple.

The head snorted, somehow managing a glare from her lopsided position in his hand. “Dangerous? Ha!” Her dark eyes, milky and alive, shifted to Mags. “They think lopping off a head’s enough to tame a Hag. I could show you both just how dangerous I am if you reattach me. Lucky for you, I was out foraging and—” The man continued to spin her. “Blargh! . . . You . . . Bastards!”

The skeletal man shook his head, his expression sour. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t get a word in.”

Mags was torn, her gut instinctively at odds with the whole scene. Celestine had called the Hag her “friend” and trusted her to protect the Leshi, which didn’t sit right with the idea of standing by while these men kept her head. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

The big man grunted, barely avoiding a flimsy attempt of the Hag to bite him. “The aether rot. Our friend is just about full gone. Boiling and consuming a Hag’s head is the last remedy we have.”

She flicked a glance at Calcabrina, who watched the men with narrowed eyes, silently tense.

“Right,” Mags said, tilting her chin defiantly. There was no more time to think. She had to act. She drew Mithra, the half-blade’s cold, comforting weight like an extension of her arm. Its jet surface hung in the air in front of her with ominous stillness. “We’re here on behalf of Celestine the Shrine Maiden to protect that Hag. So, you’re going to set that head down and walk yourselves off this island.”

The two men exchanged glances, the rotund one smirking, his fingers tightening around his shortsword. “Or what, girl?”

Mags held her ground, her voice edged with a note of steel. “Or else I’ll be counting three headless bodies in this clearing.” She poured as much venom into her voice as she could muster, but the words rang hollow in her ears. What do you mean, Mags? You’ve never killed anybody.

There was a taut moment, the air thick with the eerie quiet of the forest, only insect song to fill the space with its white noise. In that moment, Mags hoped her threat of violence would be successful and that the men would relent. In that very same moment, she knew it wasn’t a possibility—not for men who had already come so far.

Then, in one breathless instant, they all moved at once.

Stolen story; please report.

Calcabrina surged into her beast form, her muscles rippling as her lithe, hybrid-beast shape morphed into something immense and otherworldly, crowned by twisting antlers that crackled with latent energy. The big man’s eyes widened slightly, but he leapt back, putting a surprising amount of distance between himself and the suddenly formidable Kirin before landing in a low, bracing stance. Mags barely had a second to notice as the skinny man closed the space between himself and her in a blur.

She struggled to track his movement with [Aura Vision], but was sure the burst of speed was a result of channeling aether. Physical Enhancement! With a determined breath, Mags did the same, willing aether into her body, tapping into that inner reservoir of mana as she channeled it into her limbs. The rush of aura flooding her body sharpened her senses and reflexes, urging her to move. And just in time, too!

Mags snapped Mithra up, catching the blow against the flat of the wide blade. The sheer force of it reverberated through her arms, nearly rattling her teeth, and she skidded back, heels gouging into the earth as she fought to keep her footing. The force of the single punch was far greater than she had been expecting. She was lucky to still be holding onto Mithra’s hilt.

“Oof!” came the voice of the Hag’s head as it bounced along the ground, having been unceremoniously kicked by the large man’s flurry of movement as he was evading the onslaught of slashes and grabbing motions from Calcabrina, surprisingly light on his feet for one so large. “Are you going to fight back, little pup?” the Hag called to Mags.

The skinny man gritted his teeth, shaking his hand out with a grimace. “Put a lot into that one.” His eyes fell on Mithra, and a flicker of recognition sparked in his gaze. “Is that there Ivaldi steel?” A greedy smile split his face, his gaze lingering on the blade as he licked his cracked lips. “Looks like this little excursion’ll score us more than a Hag’s head.”

The skinny man’s steps were nearly soundless as he rocketed forward. This time she was ready for him. She burned more mana, letting aether flood her limbs, instantaneously converting to aura, until she felt her own strength and speed spike. The man was faster, stronger—a more experienced Soulsinger—but Mithra gave her reach, and if she played it smart, she could keep him at bay and take advantage of the situation at the right moment.

They clashed, Mithra whistling as it sliced through the air in a blur of blackness, meeting his precise, darting strikes. Her strategy was working. Despite how much the man tried, he couldn’t get within arm’s reach of her. She could see the flicker of frustration in his eyes as she kept him just out of range, her blade skimming too close for him to get comfortable. She pressed forward, keeping Mithra’s tip aimed at him, feinting and lunging, feeling for that one opening. And then, she saw it—a momentary drop in his guard, his stance open. Her arm snapped forward, the blade aimed for his shoulder—

But suddenly, her opponent’s form splintered into multiple images, afterimages that blurred in every direction around her. Mags hesitated, her strike falling short as she slashed through one of the illusory copies, watching it waver and distort under Mithra’s edge. Mags felt her eyes widen in shock. What?!

The real man was within her guard in the blink of an eye.

His fist came toward her, fast and brutal. Mags twisted, just barely dodging the punch, but his knuckles grazed her ribs with a searing jolt of pain. She stumbled back, hissing as her side flared in agony, and she whipped Mithra in an arc to create distance. The man danced back, the remnants of his afterimages lingering like smoke.

“I can’t believe you fell for such a simple illusion Spell!” cried the Hag who had landed not far from where Mags stood.

Gasping, Mags risked a glance down at her side. Her shirt was torn, and blood was seeping through the thin scratch there. The ground near where she had been standing was scattered with the contents of her satchel bag, which now hung onto her body in tatters. She let it fall to the ground.

Confusion rattled her—she’d felt the impact of his fist, and he hadn’t been holding a weapon. She scanned his hands. Empty.

“You’re not helping here!” Mags exclaimed through gritted teeth. She shot a glare at the Hag’s head.

She re-focused her attention on her opponent. She activated [Aura Vision]. Then her eyes caught the faint shimmer of something on the man’s skin, a jagged aura of light, almost translucent, peeling off his knuckles at sharp, serrated angles.

“Ahhh… See it now, don’t ya, little pup?” said the Hag.

Was I cut by his aura? Mags had no idea that was possible.

The man noticed her glance, and a crooked grin stretched across his face, triumphant. “Figured it out, have you?”

Mags didn’t respond; she was too focused, her eyes flicking back to Mithra. She steadied her breath, feeling the aether pulse within her. She channeled more, letting the surge of power calm her nerves and sharpen her focus through the pain at her side.

The man moved, images blurring around him once more. Mags leapt to the side, sweeping Mithra in front of her in a wide blow. The blade passed through several images that evaporated as soon as the Ivaldi blade touched them.

Her blade cut a fierce arc toward the skinny man, who twisted away with a laugh, his ghostly afterimages reappearing in the periphery. She braced herself to strike again when, between them, a small stone sphere clattered to the ground. She barely registered it before the stone erupted, releasing a pulse of air that knocked her off her feet. The world spun; she hit the ground hard, her body skidding over moss and rough dirt. Her grip on Mithra slipped, and the blade sailed off, embedding itself several paces away.

Dazed, Mags opened her eyes to find herself lying uncomfortably close to the Hag’s head. A face the color of old parchment, eyes rimmed with creases as deep as ravines, regarded her with a withering look.

“Quit lounging, you lazy little pup,” the Hag snapped, her expression one of extreme boredom. “You’re supposed to be my rescue party, not my afternoon entertainment.”

Mags forced herself up, head still swimming. She barely managed to shake off the haze when three more of those infernal stone spheres zipped through the air toward her. Her hands were empty, and she barely had time to throw her arms up before Calcabrina barreled into her line of sight. The young woman-turned-Kirin took the brunt of the blasts, her massive, fur and scale covered body absorbing the concussive force with a sharp, agonized howl.

“Calcabrina!” Mags yelled, stumbling as the world steadied around her.

Calcabrina staggered, but even dazed, she positioned herself between Mags and the fat man, who now stood some distance away. He had discarded his shortsword and held one of the small stone cubes, grinning with a sickening glint in his eye. Behind him, the metallic sphere hummed and spun, pulsing as a fresh cube materialized in the air before him. Mags’ [Aura Vision] activated, and she noticed a faintly glowing white outline on the cube already in his hand, but not on the new one. He plucked the newly materialized cube out of the air like a child grabbing candy. A second later, the same glowing outline formed around the cube.

“He’s got a Pocket,” Calcabrina growled, blood matting her fur where the explosions had hit. “It’s probably full of those stones. He can turn them into explosives. The longer he holds them, the bigger the explosive.”

Mags focused on her [Aura Vision], watching as each cube’s faint glow intensify, suffusing with the more of the same aura. Her fists clenched. She didn’t need Mithra to fight, but it would make things easier—and right now, there was a whole lot of incoming trouble.

“Hey, careful with that!” the skinny man snapped, his afterimages blurring as he scrambled back. “One of those blasts almost took me out!”

“Then maybe don’t get in my way,” the fat man retorted, laughing as he raised another glowing cube, ready to throw. Mags gritted her teeth, flexing her fingers as she calculated the distance to her blade.

She drew in aether, burning more of her mana reserves to channel it.

Then, she felt a faint haptic tingling in her mind and a window of neat, silver text flooded the upper righthand corner of her vision as a notification from Yggdrasil appeared.

[Skill: Physical Enhancement]

. . .

[Improved from E-7 to E-8!]

[New Skill: Aura Enhancement – Void Cloak (Active)]

[Level: E-4]