Chapter 10 -- Lessons

“You should seek him out,” Imena said. It was the first she had spoken since their night together in the kilkinteth hive. Knowing he needed time to make a decision, she had continued to be a silent comfort. During the day, she rode her dreshen, Nubela, while reading a book. A wisp light on a slender metal rod fit snugly between pages, providing illumination where the deep forest would have otherwise forced her to squint.

He didn’t know where Nubela truly was--he had released his wife’s mount into the wild after her death--but Imena appeared on the mount nonetheless. The curve of its ears, gleam in its eyes, and black splotches around the hind quarters were as familiar as his own stag’s markings.

“To what end?” he asked, hefting a small stone in his hand. There was no need to ask who she spoke of. Though it had been days since the conversation about Krachnis’ champion, they stepped back into the discussion like the movements of a dance already in progress.

“You may be the only one who knows the truth about that day.”

Setting his eye on an interesting whorl in the bark of a tree roughly thirty paces from the course they were on, Drusk pulled his arm back high then threw the stone. It sailed through the air and thunked slightly below his target. Beneath him, his stag Lenodis ignored the shifting weight on his back.

“Einar would have told him about Andres,” he said and took another stone from the small sack at his waist. Imena had encouraged him to read for years and had mostly given up, aside from an occasional comment every few seasons. She mostly left him to throwing stones. He had never explained why he liked doing it, and she had never asked. “Einar was never the kind to avoid a harsh truth.”

“Why, then, is he serving Krachnis?” Imena asked. “If he knew the sacrifices that had been made to keep him safe, to keep him away from that monster--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Drusk interrupted. In his hand, he squeezed a stone, debating where to throw it. “The past is not a straight road back through your memories, not if you stop to ponder every fork of regret. I’ll not lose myself traveling those ways. But as for seeking him out...I suspect an old friend might already be doing just that if they haven’t already found him.”

She twisted her mouth at that but knew better than to say any more. If Krachnis’ eyes were still on them, speaking their old friend’s name would mean their death. Drusk didn’t even like to use gender-identifying pronouns, never referring to his friend’s race or gender.

“And what are we doing here?” Imena asked with a sweep of her arms to indicate the towering trees and rich undergrowth of the deep forest. “Are we visiting the webfooted or the wodenlang?”

“We’re already among the wodenlang,” he said. Pulling his arm back, Drusk aimed for one of the trees with enough foliage to hide at least a dozen wodenlang. He threw and knew he had struck his target. A devious smile split his face. There was no clear sign he had hit anything aside from a few leaves disturbed by the stone’s passage. But through Onyx’s eyes, he saw a young wodenlang male rubbing at his head, engaged in a fierce debate with several companions on nearby branches.

The nightwing had been scouting the forest at Drusk’s request. She had easily found the wodenlang grove of Suntop to the north. Like Imena’s fascination with the kilkinteth, she adored the wodenlang and would have begged him to stop in the grove, so he had steered them well clear. He hoped to gather information from the few wodenlang that would invariably be visiting the swamp hobs and would only turn back to Suntop if necessary.

Luckily for him, the woods near the border between this village and the swamp were teeming with wodenlang scouts hidden in the trees. They were spread across a vast area, creating a ring of heat signatures to Onyx’s eyes. The focus of their attention seemed to be protecting another of his old friends. Years ago, a group of them had conspired to hide Edore’s heir and had promised never again to meet or speak of it. At the time, they had sought to protect the boy’s anonymity, to give him something resembling a regular life. But he had become Krachnis’ champion, and that changed everything.

Drusk had hoped the wodenlang wouldn’t impede his progress, which they hadn’t, but he had grown increasingly annoyed that they still hadn’t revealed themselves. Not to mention, one of them had been doggedly following him while avoiding her kinsmen. So, he had taken matters into his own hands.

Onyx sat upon a branch directly over the scout he had hit. Seen through her eyes, the scout had an arrow nocked, the bowstring taut. His face burned with fury, fueled by the soft laughter of his companions. Though the bow was definitely aimed toward Drusk, the scout wouldn’t shoot to kill. At least, Drusk hoped he wouldn’t. The slighted wodenlang would probably fire an arrow into the road ahead of him, aiming to startle Lenodis. If he thought he could get away with it, he might even try firing an arrow through Drusk’s cloak. The Balancer had an apple in his bag and considered placing it atop his head to further taunt the scout.

A now familiar form raced through the trees, leaping from branch to branch until she stood directly before the angered scout. This new scout was the one that had been following him. The other wodenlang startled at her arrival, obviously thinking she should be stationed elsewhere. Onyx saw the angry male and newly-arrived female arguing in vivid colors but couldn’t decipher their words. Whatever the new scout communicated, the angry wodenlang relaxed the tension on his bow and attached the arrow to a band of bark around his midsection.

Drusk pretended he couldn’t see any of it. He rode Lenodis at the same gentle pace and tossed another stone casually ahead but was careful to mark where it fell.

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A second later, the angry scout jumped from the tree, his long slender body resembling the arrow he had wanted to launch at Drusk. Though he fell a good three stories, the wodenlang hit the ground softly, bending his knees slightly. His fall had been silent, as was his passage through the underbrush, but he wore a despondent look. Drusk and Lenodis had both watched him fall from the tree, and the scout had noticed. It was a huge blow to the youth’s pride, exactly the sort of bitter medicine Drusk was not only best suited for administering but also the kind hot-headed warriors needed most.

“Admit that was a lucky throw,” the youth said, looking to Drusk like no more than a snarling wolf cub. His bow hadn’t been molded to the bark along his side; instead, it retained its rigid form, ready to be used again in a moment’s notice. Arrows ran the length of the wodenlang’s arms, chest, and upper legs–far too many for a simple scouting mission. None of the other scouts had even half as many arrows.

Drusk silently communicated with Onyx, asking her to join him on the ground. When she landed atop Lenodis’ antlers, the stag didn’t react, continuing to stare at the wodenlang with his deep black eyes. Bird, dreshen, and Balancer looked down upon the wodenlang, equally unimpressed.

The youth drew his bow, pulling it from where it was attached to a thick patch of bark on his left side. At the same time, he readied an arrow almost too quickly for Drusk to follow, obviously determined to get a reaction out of him one way or another. The wodenlang’s temper was such a pale imitation of Drusk’s own anger–a throwing knife launched in haste as opposed to a sword held in steady hands until presented with the perfect opportunity to strike. Drusk’s anger kept him focused and driven, while the youth seemed to be completely blinded by his emotions.

Who did he think Drusk was? Both wisp blades were clearly visible beneath his cloak, and he rode upon a dreshen stag. Onyx’s arrival should have made it clear he was a druí, which should have earned him a modicum of respect. Even the suggestion Drusk might be a Balancer should have sent spikes of ice through the boy’s knees.

They stared each other down, neither blinking. Through his shared vision with Onyx, Drusk saw when the female scout fell from the tree, once more forced to intervene on behalf of her hot-headed kinsman. Drusk saved her the trouble. He teleported to the wisp stone he had thrown moments before, pretending at the time it was just another pebble to be tossed carelessly away. The scout had passed directly over it. That bit had been luck. He appeared behind the scout, a wisp blade flashing over the youth’s shoulder to slice through the taut bowstring, then Drusk teleported to Lenodis’ back.

The youth continued to stare at Drusk, refusing to lower his useless bow, but his entire demeanor had changed. As if waking from a dream, he blinked and looked more closely at the Balancer, seeing him for what he was. Drusk didn’t detect any fear in the boy’s wide eyes, only shock and the slow onset of further embarrassment. Then he found his anger again.

“If you’re here to visit the grove, you’re going the wrong way,” he bellowed. The scout turned to the north, so Drusk heeled Lenodis and continued traveling in a south-westerly direction.

“No recriminations?” he asked as Imena pulled up at his side. She had watched the altercation from afar. They trusted each other to fight their own battles and knew when the other needed aid, but she’d been...overly concerned about his behavior recently.

“You taught that boy a valuable lesson,” she said, holding her book across her lap. “If he’s smart enough to learn it.” That said, her attention returned to the book, but she added, almost as an afterthought, “Can’t say I’d have been quite so gentle.”

Which meant she was concocting harsh punishments for the next time Drusk stepped out of line.

The other scout approached from behind, hands open to the side. When she caught up to Lenodis, she twisted and began walking backwards. She was much younger than Drusk had first thought, probably still a teenager. A few capillary thin strands of bark showed along her arms, tracing the veins. Her bow was molded against her side, tracing the lines of her narrow waist on the left side while a simple wooden knife protruded ever so slightly from the bark on her right hip. A half dozen arrows circled her left arm, the rest of her body devoid of unnecessary weapons.

“Shade and health, Andruí,” she said and nodded her head. “I am Nycinth. I know you didn’t come to visit the grove. How did you know Leri?”

Drusk ignored the question, even though it was astute. And to the point. He appreciated that.

“I know you’ve been following me,” he said, echoing her words with a dissatisfied grumble. “Why?”

“It must be convenient, having a spare set of eyes.” Drusk almost laughed aloud as she ignored his question in turn. She bent for a closer examination of Onyx instead of shying away as most did. “Can it be taught?”

He knew she wasn’t referring to Onyx. Nycinth didn’t look at the nightwing when she asked the question, fixing her eyes on him. And they were hungry. He had seen that same hunger in the mirror every day before he had joined the druí.

“She has potential,” Imena muttered, not bothering to look up from her book. If she showed even the slightest interest in the girl, Drusk would push Nycinth away with all his considerable stubbornness, and Imena knew it. But her disinterest was just as telling.

“Did you have a strange dream recently?” he asked. “About me?”

“That’s an odd question,” Nycinth said. She squinted her eyes, lending credibility to her words, but the ghost of a smile tickled the corner of her mouth.

“That’s not a denial,” Drusk said. “So, Gailinn told you I was coming.”

It wasn’t the first time she had sent prospective druí his way, but she’d not done so since Imena’s death.

“Whatever promises she made you, they were lies,” he said.

“I understand.”

“She told you I’d say that, didn’t she?”

“Yes, Balancer Drusk. I believe this is yours,” she said and handed over the portal stone he had tossed to the ground. Onyx snatched it in her beak, then dropped it into Drusk’s waiting hand. “It was an honor to meet you.”

Nycinth bowed once more but not only to him. She gave Onyx and Lenodis a respectful nod then finally turned around, allowing them to pass and leave her behind. Onyx watched her, sending Drusk feelings of pleasure at the young scout’s display of respect. Borrowing the nightwing’s eyes, Drusk watched Nycinth. She stood rooted in place, watching intently until they moved further into the forest and lost sight of her.

“She’ll be back,” Imena taunted.

“I know,” Drusk grumbled.