Toren Daen

Our situation looked dire, even after escaping the hornet’s death trap. Vaelum was unconscious after fighting off the acid, causing a visible blow to the morale of the survivors. The four non-mages all had burst eardrums from the ringing blast of my sound grenade, leading them to visible despair and pain. The other members of the party–the wind caster and the three shields–were all near the edge of their abilities.

Our odds looked grim. As the wind caster said, the only reason we hadn’t been devoured yet was because the beasts of the forest hadn’t capitalized on the destruction of the nest. But the night was falling, and I knew from experience the dangers the depths of the Clarwood Forest held.

In the end, a simple plan was arranged. The three shields would keep a triangular formation around the sentry, wind caster, and remaining unadorned, protecting them from each side. Those in the middle would carry Vaelum, whose wounds had finally been bandaged.

This plan was laid out by the wind caster, who had taken the role of de facto leader of the convoy after Vaelum’s collapse. His name was Aban, and apparently was an old hand at doing these forest runs. From what I had gathered, he wasn’t directly loyal to Blood Joan: more a contractor who helped expeditions along.

The remaining mages huddled around a small diagram etched into the dirt by Aban, each reviewing their respective roles.

“There’s a problem here,” I said, modulating my voice with sound once more. My mana had recovered a decent bit in the past fifteen minutes, finally moving me past backlash. The attention of the group shifted to me, wary but not hostile. “This protects you from attacks from the ground, which is certainly the most dangerous spot. But it doesn’t matter how well guarded you are from the sides if you are vulnerable from above.”

Aban looked at me knowingly, drawing another symbol in the dirt. “That is true. Our group will be preoccupied trying to carve our way through this accursed forest, plant by bloody plant. We’re tired, sore, and our attention is already worn thin. We won’t be able to keep an eye on the sky.”

I looked back at the diagram, crossing my hands. My leather gloves felt slick against my palms, the sweat from the past few hours sinking in. “And I noticed you haven’t marked a position for me yet on this plan of yours,” I said, seeing his reasoning.

“We need eyes above us,” Aban said. “Before, Meera fulfilled that role, but she decided to leave the company to their death.” A wave of anger passed over the crowd at the water caster’s name. A few of the mages bristled, but the earth shield watched me with narrowed eyes. “And considering you managed to follow us through the entire forest from the trees, I’d wager you’re quite at home there.” He paused for a moment.

The mood of the group immediately shifted back to wariness when my tracking was brought up. I ignored the looks, considering the plan on the ground. All things considered, it was probably the best that could be created on such short notice. It was full of holes, but there wasn’t exactly time to patch them.

“I’ll do it,” I said, looking back at Aban. “I’ll keep around the perimeter of the group and send warning shots to you if I spot a group large enough to warrant danger,” I added, thinking this over.

Aban nodded in acceptance. Afterward, he gave a brief rundown of the dangers that we’d be facing as we walked and what to look out for. I shivered as he listed off a dozen different ways we could die if we weren’t careful, but my choice was already made.

The group prepared to leave not long after, men cinching their straps and cracking their knuckles. The night had finally fallen, but it was difficult to tell in the gloom of the forest canopy. The lanterns were redistributed amongst the group, granting decent visibility to those who stuck around the triangle formation of the shields.

Aban found me a minute before we were ready to set off.

“Thank you for staying with us,” he said, keeping his voice low. From how he glanced around, I could immediately tell he wasn’t just keeping quiet to avoid attracting beasts. He didn’t want the rest of the party to hear. “For all that your circumstances for following us were… strange,” he said, watching me with a knowing look, “Your assistance has been invaluable. I recognize that.”

I sighed, looking over the group once more. The non-mages were shivering in their boots, watching the sky and shuffling about. Not ten minutes ago some were crying on the dirt, their damaged eardrums and relative weakness a perceived death sentence. Another man had simply sat down and begun to write a will of some sort, resigned and numb despite it all.

“I couldn’t leave you all to die,” I said honestly. If there was one thing my previous life on Earth ground into me, it was that I was painfully empathetic. Toren held those same feelings to a surprising degree: it was no coincidence that he worked for a surgeon for years. “When I feel like I can make a difference, it is… against my nature to not try.”

Aban peered back at where we came from, a contemplative frown on his face. “I’m not just thanking you for that. I am old, but I am no fool. You could leave right now, bounding through the trees to safety and leaving us to die,” he said, his voice near a whisper. “Maybe your mission to track us requires us to stay alive. But I would have given up hope long ago if I believed the worst in people.”

I swallowed, not meeting Aban’s gaze. He nodded to me once more, then moved back to coordinate the trek back to the lighter parts of the forest.

I shook my head, banishing my emotions. Then with a pulse of telekinesis, I rocketed up into the trees, ready to fight anything that got close to my charges.

—

The first sign of trouble occurred farther out than I expected. The group had been walking for ten minutes or so, their pace slow and hampered by the weak and wounded. I trailed along from the trees, hopping from branch to branch with a small bead of fire conjured nearby to provide light.

The only warning the shields had was a surprised shout from the sentry. All three hastily put up barriers: one of solid mana, another of ice, and a final wall of earth. Not a second later, something impacted the icy barrier hard.

It splintered from the impact, causing the shield to grit his teeth. Those behind the chilled wall shuffled back nervously. I caught a glimpse of the creature that had attacked as it quickly retreated into the darkness, ready to probe their defenses once more. The sentry was peering around nervously, trying to watch every location at once.

He jerked back to the rear, pointing back. “It’s coming from that direction!” he called with a slight panic.

The thing impacted the solid mana barrier, which was guarding the rear from assault. It rippled from the blow, but Aban was ready. A bullet of wind shot past the mana barrier, clearly being allowed through by the guarding shield.

I didn’t see the spell impact under the cover of the night, but I heard the scream. It sounded disturbingly close to a Tasmanian Devil, which only made me tense on my branch.

But the yell from the mana beast–which I could now see the corpse of–drew predators from the forest.

A fireball from my hand launched between a few trees, knocking a large birdlike mana beast out of the sky. Its once pristine white feathers were scorched black under the heat of my spell as it fell out of the sky with a piteous croon. But as the glintfeather died, a half dozen followed in its wake.

The flock followed in a tight formation, making it easier to spot them in the dark. Their bright white feathers helped them blend in with the leaves of the Clarwood Trees, but it created a contrast amidst the night. My aim would be sure.

Knowing I couldn’t protect the entire caravan from such high numbers, I called out to the shields below. “Watch your heads!” I said, cocking my arm back with a rock in hand. “I’ll get as many as I can, but some might get past me!”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I didn’t have time to check if the group had heard me. I threw the rock with a burst of white telekinesis. The stone blurred toward one of the birds, clipping its wing and sending it careening into a tree. The rest continued on doggedly, finally above the group.

I dissuaded them of that notion. Before the corvid-like beasts could descend on my charges, I launched myself bodily through the air, arcing toward the squawking beasts. One turned to face me, and I could feel it charging up some sort of attack in the ambient mana. With a flap, a flurry of small wind blades tore from its wings, racing toward me like a dozen sharp razors. I twisted to avoid as many as I could, but a few cut into my mana shroud. One broke through entirely, scoring a light mark across my ribs.

I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain. The birds started to try and move as I got close, but it was too late.

I clapped my hands together as I entered range, a sound too high-pitched for humans to hear emanating from my palms. I focused on keeping the effect within a small range and away from the group on the ground, but the spell was devastating for the mana beasts in my range. They wobbled on the wing, the abrupt sound damaging their sense of balance.

This was the newest of my ‘template spells,’ designed to disorient or disrupt enemies in a certain range from me. As my first lessons in the forest were entirely focused on always maintaining my balance and situational awareness, I knew the devastating consequences of losing those things. So I designed a spell that would target the inner ear of unsuspecting enemies: the place where mammals and similar creatures derived much of their sense of balance.

I careened toward another tree, quickly securing myself on a branch. I turned around in time to see most of the beasts falling out of the sky, flapping desperately to reorient themselves. And Aban, having evidently heard my call earlier, was ready to receive them.

A salvo of wind bullets punched through the group of mottled birds from below; bloody holes being ripped through their sheer white bodies. But one glintfeather was entirely focused on me. It flew toward me like an arrow, a malevolent sheen in its beady eyes. Focusing, I raised both my hands and flared my crest. I pushed my hands in opposing directions, using the imagery of my movements to guide my casting.

Two flares of white, one on each wing of the glintfeather, pushed in opposite directions. The bird squawked in surprise, the effect causing its controlled dive toward me to morph into a chaotic struggle of flapping feathers and unnerved caws.

I slashed quickly with my dagger as the beast passed me, coating my steel with a sheath of flame. The noise of the birdlike beast switched from panicked squawking to subdued gurgles as it tumbled past, the cut I had opened across its gullet cauterized in a grizzly display.

I shoved the smell of burned feathers and scorched flesh to the back of my mind, instead refocusing on the battle below.

My nerves ratcheted up several notches when I turned my attention back to the ground. A few panther-like mana beasts lay dead around them, as well as what looked like an impressively large boa constrictor but with shifting colors instead of scales. It was difficult to make out much more, but I could see an unnerving number of eyes reflecting the firelight in the underbrush.

But the eyes didn’t approach. Instead, several of them bobbed around, tracking toward the downed mana beast I had slain. The other creatures, seemingly sensing the danger involved with attacking what was left of the caravan, instead meandered toward the corpses of the monsters we had killed.

The group didn’t be need to told twice. They continued toward the edge of the forest, haste in their movements that I could understand.

The next several hours fell into a terrifying routine. A horde of mana beasts would swoop down from above or ambush the group from the dense foliage, attacking a weakened foe. The group would fight them tooth and nail, taking damage with each encounter.

Each fight took longer than the last, and I could see injuries piling up. The night called to her children, and they descended from all sides to reap their due. Vaelum still hadn’t awoken; his large body was being carried by the non-mages in revolving turns. The earth shield had broken a few ribs about an hour earlier when a drift ape crashed into him but was pushing on valiantly. The sentry had a cut over his brow that was leaking blood from a bad fall when a large mammalian mana beast almost breached the line.

The other mages were better off, but not by much. They had been rationing their spells more and more, sticking to direct interventions rather than conjuring a shield to save their energy. They had been forced to change tactics when their mana began to run dry. Two shields would defend the entire convoy while the third focused on recovering their mana. When another fight ensued, the third mage would replace the first, and continue on.

I had begun to take a far more active role in the defense as the main defenders flagged. My muscles burned and my mind stuttered on each attempted spell, the long night’s activities burning away at nearly every form of stamina I had. But my mana core was nearly full, despite flinging spells and launching attacks at every moment I could.

It was with immense relief that I finally noticed the change in vegetation ahead. The attacks from beasts had gotten more sporadic in the past half hour, allowing our company more rest between battles. But that meant we were closer than ever to our destination.

“We’re almost there!” I called down excitedly. “I can see the perimeter gap! We’re almost safe!”

The lighter parts of the forest were notably easier to fight through, with weaker mana beasts like skaunters and barkskin grohds as the standard.

My call invigorated the exhausted convoy, driving them onward faster. The vegetation lessened noticeably, and the Clarwood Trees became significantly smaller. Once the entire group had crossed the barrier, I dropped from the trees in relief.

Aban was surveying the night forest with a weary smile, his gray-flecked hair almost black in the darkness. He turned to me as I landed, and his smile faded away. “And so we are alive,” he said with a slight chuckle. I could barely feel his mana at all. He slumped against a nearby tree, then slid to the floor. He had contributed the most to the battles after me, leaving him barely able to stand. “And not another casualty. I’ll have to thank you again, Dusk,” he said, closing his eyes.

I spared a glance at the rest of the crew. They had moved a considerable distance away from the edge of the deep forest and were beginning to set up a camp.

I looked back at the old man, slumped against the tree. Indecision warred in my gut. I had fought with these men and bled to keep them alive. But my original intent for trailing this expedition remained the same: get as much information as I could from the leaders about Blood Joan. What I needed to do felt like a betrayal.

Aban’s next words cut across my thoughts. “Well?” he said, a note of amusement in his tone. “Ask your questions, Dusk. What do you want to know about Blood Joan?”

I refocused my attention fully on the prone man, confusion and guilt rising in my stomach. I clenched my fist in turns. “How did you know my intent?” I asked with a whisper, feeling my shoulders slump.

Aban chuckled but didn’t open his eyes. “I didn’t until just now. It was a reasonable guess.” He huffed a bit. “Besides, an old rival of mine got a back full of pebbles because of you a few days ago after he tried to assault the Rats. It makes sense you’d want to know something about my employer. Easy correlation.”

I groaned, feeling a need to massage the bridge of my nose. My mask, however, foiled those plans. For all that I had planned to interrogate someone, I wasn’t entirely prepared to actually do it. At least the old man seemed quite amenable to me. “Look, I need you to tell me what you know about Blood Joan. Where do they usually invest their funds? Where can I expect them to regularly be? What would really get their attention? That kind of thing.”

Aban finally opened his eyes and gave me a very flat look. “You’re not very good at this, son,” he said. I glared at him from under my mask, crossing my arms in front of me. I really, really didn’t want to hurt somebody for information.

Aban shook his head, then brought his staff over his knees. “Fine, fine. I don’t know much, Dusk. I assume your intended target was Vaelum, but that’s fallen through,” he said, inclining his head knowingly toward where Vaelum was carefully laid on the ground under a tarp. “But I do know something I think you’ll appreciate. Blood Joan’s struggling financially. I don’t know all the details, and I suspect few really do. But their last few business ventures have been exceedingly bold. And in some lights, outright desperate.”

He looked at me knowingly. “This expedition would be considered desperate?” I asked, surprised.

He sighed, thumping his head against the tree. I felt I could match the weary lines of his face to the wrinkles of bark just behind it. “Not by itself, no. But the sheer number of unadorned they employed…” He shook his head. “It’s not right, sending non-mages into the depths of that forest. But the pay they offered–which was well below what is usually given to us mages–was more than many of those men make in a month.”

I looked at the four surviving unadorned in growing horror. Puzzle pieces began to click into place. “They sent those men in there to die,” I said in understanding. “Just to collect the nest material and burn away after.”

Aban nodded. “It looks like Joan couldn’t afford the normal outfit of mages to journey into this forest, so they filled the ranks with wogart fodder instead.” His ensuing exhale was full of a depressing resignation. “And after the disastrous failure of this mission, I doubt these men will even be paid for their work. It’s a mess.”

The wind caster’s eyes sharpened. “There’s more to this, Dusk. I don’t know what. But I’ve been traveling into this forest as a guide for many, many years. No matter how desperate Blood Joan is for cash, this is too reckless. Unless they needed the acidbeam paper themselves for some unfathomable reason, I don’t see why they’d take such a risk.”

I noticed the earth shield begin to walk toward us, causing me to tense. “Thank you for this,” I said quietly, meeting Aban’s gaze one last time. “I’ll make a difference here. I promise you.”

Aban smiled sadly, brushing his hair out of his face. “We all think that when we are young,” he said.

I launched into the trees once more, the shouts of the earth shield to come back and face him echoing in my ears.