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THIRTY-SEVEN—Gnarled Blackwoods

They had slept for only a few hours. The men took turns standing watch for a possible attack. An attack!

Leisa shuttered. Why would anyone want to attack them in this place? Gold was not exactly something you needed in these parts.

She felt tired.

Leisa missed her duties as a handmaiden. At least she hadn’t had to freeze or sweat herself half to death. And there wasn’t a threat of constant danger. When she’d first set out with the lady mage on this quest she thought it would be a thrilling adventure, despite the fact the woman had told her it would be dangerous.

Leisa didn’t want adventure anymore.

This is worse than my nightmares, she thought, stepping into a warm, muddy sinkhole. It sucked at her calf as she pulled her foot out. Frowning, she shook the mud from her knee-high boot of supple leather. The terrain had changed?

Had Sorela noticed, still studying that painted leather?

The Blackwoods were different too. Instead of climbing straight up, they were gnarled, twisted and grew in a slithering fashion toward the dark canopy overheard, which seemed higher than it had before.

And the ground... it was no longer damp hard-packed dirt covered with death leaves. A thick leathery grass grew wherever there was abundant water. The forest, rolling hills with swampy waters, grasses, and undergrowth wherever there was a hollow—and there were a lot of hollows—slowly ambled down, as if toward a valley. Except they never seemed to reach that valley.

Leisa wiped at her forehead. This place almost felt like the steam chamber in Castle Warfink. Leisa was not allowed to use the chamber herself, but she did bring the lady mage hot rocks to poor water onto.

Her eye caught something moving above. Something was following them. She already knew that, but this time she’d seen one of those... things, small and impish. Not human. What did the wretches want?

Serin fell into step beside her. “If they were going to do something, I think they would have already.”

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Leisa realized she was gripping the hilt of her sword. She couldn’t weild the heavier weapons, and had one made especially for herself. Well... Lady Casen had. Leisa could not commission to have custom swords forged even if she wanted to. Swords cost a lot of money. She continued fingering the hilt, her knkuckles white.

The light from their torches was enough to see by for walking, but it seemd unsufficient to know wheather something would attack them from a distance.

Serin’s comforting words were not very comforting. In fact they did the opposite, making Leisa feel a tenuous safety at best. If the Serafe was trying to keep her from being afraid, she probably had more to be afraid about now.

Speed and agility are your advantages with a blade, Captain Caldron had told her.

After they were safe, Leisa intended to tell the lady mage that she didn’t want to go to the Hall after all. I’ve been wasting her time, she told herself angrily, knowing she would feel a pang of guilt from the other woman’s disappointment. She wanted to think about something else. “Do you think Lord Jalen is alive?”

The tall man hesitated. “I don’t know. We will find out.” He offered a comforting smile that made her feel a little less on edge as they trudged on. Strange. His words didn’t do that.

It was strange how the Deep wasn’t as dark as the rest of the Blackwood. It was still dark, but she could see well enough to make out the gnarled trees. Everything seemed to give off a hint of light, though so miniscule that you couldn’t tell if you tried to find light emanating from any one source. It was an ambient light source that seemed to glow as if by some bioluminescence that allowed her to see better than before, but still not that well. If those creatures above decided to attack them in numbers, they would have the advantage of surprise and probably visibility.

Mist swirled about the glassy water-filled hollows as strange insects and animals chirped or rustled about in the grass. Some frolicked at the water’s edge, but quickly retreated whenever the group came near. Brassen complained, mutterings getting louder as time went on. After enough moaning over sore feet and lack of sleep from some of the guardsmen, they stopped again.

Leisa sat down on her fur she’s spread out in a spot that wasn’t too wet. She wondered if an army could travel into the Blackwood, or the Deep, unseen if they were able to keep quite.

We have to be silent like Naikal said, she thought.

An army couldn’t stay quiet. Men with weapons covered in metal plate were not a combination for quiet. But how could the Blackwood have taken entire crusades sent against it? So far, they had not come across anything all that dangerous apart from those creatures evidentially stocking them.

But maybe they were simply curious? Falan and Serin stood guard together. Were they worried about an attack while they slept? Leisa’s thoughts and worries drifted away as she slipped into unconsciousness.