SYRDIN

A watcher, a vassal to a god. Fear pulled painfully at the bruises in Syrdin’s ribs. In a way, that made them peers. Though Syrdin might have been more of a vessel. For now.

Zhe peered into the mottled shadows of the forest, tracking Galendria’s gesture toward the supposed yellow eyes. The mantle of sunlight glittering on the leaves stung zheir eyes, shrouding anything nestled beneath it in darkness. Zheir skin prickled with the desire for that shade: to melt into those shadows and disappear. The open skies felt vulnerable, especially while they were so closely watched.

In a moment of rippling water and whispering reeds, Syrdin spared a glare for Fenn’s little princess, who stared fixedly at nothing. “That’ll be magical,” zhe noted.

Zhe ground her teeth. As much as the girl’s previously happy existence annoyed Syrdin, she was proving mighty useful. Even now, delicate as she clung to her betrothed’s elbow, the girl’s hair was set ablaze with gold by the direct sunlight, and her skin, though paled with fear, still held a rich hue of wood and bark. This creature would be one of Dara’s Watchers; Syrdin did not doubt that.

Another certainty: the gaze penetrated too deeply to allow it to watch zhem any longer. If this Watcher detected Ath-togail, Syrdin was as good as dead. Zhe was not fooled into thinking that any of zheir group would be sacrificing themselves to save zhem, either. Not on purpose.

“Undoubtedly magical.” Mell’s fingers flexed, her mouth pinched to hold back more than she said. She held a hungry expression. “Fenn, if there’s even a chance this is a Watcher, don’t you think we should approach it?”

Though risky, meeting a Watcher presented a chance to learn the whereabouts of Boidhan the High Father, perhaps even to invoke the rite, or at least to test the strength of a god’s servant. As a group, they stood a fighting chance. And, based on Mell’s response, pushing them toward progress wouldn’t be difficult. Fenn was indecisive and easy to lead. Only the drakeman and the trembling Galendria would oppose the idea.

The others still waited for Fenn to respond. His attention kept shifting between Galendria, the forest, and Mell, his mouth hanging half-open. Finally, he found the words to answer. “Perhaps, but I haven’t the slightest clue the correct way to approach one. If there’s some kind of offering or appropriate greeting–” he cut off when he caught a sharp glare from Mell, “My point is, we could be putting ourselves in even greater danger, as Krid said.”

The drakeman huffed with satisfaction but said nothing.

They have lives to return to, the thought whispered in the back of Syrdin’s mind. Compassion is a weakness, zheir mother’s voice answered it, a mere memory. No. Syrdin shoved both thoughts away. This was no time for pity. The others had come by choice. If they weren’t prepared to take risks, they shouldn’t have come.

Syrdin clenched zheir teeth into a grin. It was too easy, really. “The way to approach it?” zhe rolled forward onto zheir feet, biting back a hiss of pain. In the thrill of a fight, if a fight came, zhe wouldn’t be able to feel it. Nothing would slow zhem down. Zhe squared zheir shoulders in the direction of Galendria’s stare. “Simple: approach it head-on. We have questions, and this thing has answers.”

Not waiting for a response, Syrdin strode, limping, toward the trees.

Zhe heard Fenn sputter as zhe walked away, uttering a series of half-formed protests while the heavy steps of the drakeman squished in the damp earth behind zhem, following.

“If you go in there alone, you might die,” he growled.

But you won’t let that happen, will you? You’re too honorable for that. “Really, Krid, I never knew a drakeman to show cowardice in the face of a challenge.”

His footsteps stopped. “I never knew a Night Elf who was such a fool,” he hissed quietly. “I thought you were clever.”

Backtalk? And whispered so as not to spill zheir secrets. Syrdin stopped on the roots of the treeline, gnarled and uneven. Is that all? Even now, zhe saw no sign of any unusual creature, just a few beady-eyed clepshoths perched nearby and a fox-like creature crouched under the broad leaves of a low-lying fern. If backtalk was Krid’s only defiance, zheir gamble had more than paid off. He had already followed zhem this far–far enough to push Mell and Fenn into action.

“Galendira,” Syrdin could barely hear Mell’s gentle words from where zhe stood. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but couldn’t you show them the way?”

“Mell, this might be a terrible idea.” Fenn didn’t sound as afraid as zhe expected, only concerned.

“This is probably safer than trusting pixies, and we survived that much.” Mell wasn’t a patient woman, and as she continued, her voice took a demanding edge. “Come on, this is too great of an opportunity. If we wait like Krid wants, then it may just leave and we’ll lose our chance.”

“But Mell…” There must have been something implied there that Syrdin didn’t witness.

A deep, shaky inhale that lasted a moment too long came from Galendria. “It has moved. It’s gone to the left of Syrdin by that taller tree.” She managed to sound self-assured.

Didn’t someone say Gale was a performer? She must have been a convincing one. Syrdin didn’t believe the she-elf had genuinely mustered the courage to seek the Watcher.

Syrdin followed her directions into the shade. Through twisted branches, zhe spotted a tree slightly taller than the others. No sooner had zhe laid eyes on it than a great shadow swept away, melting into the tangled shadows of the canopy.

Zhe ducked down and waited for the others to catch up. “I saw it for a moment. Whatever it is, it flies.” And it doesn’t want to be seen.

“Hrmph!” The drakeman stalked onward, claws still on his hilt, his shield raised in front.

Syrdin glanced over zheir shoulder to see Galendria lead the others into the forest, her head swiveling. Her gaze landed upward, and Syrdin tried to follow it. Again, there was nothing.

“Let me try something.” The girl finally released Fenn’s arm and lifted a hand before her nose. She crossed two fingers, pulling her pointer back with her middle to create an eye. “Tayspaen doan Drayht.” As soon as she said it, her face scrunched. She waved a hand in front of her face like she was batting away smoke.

“I take it there is a lot of magic around?” Mell asked.

Ah, a magic sensing spell.

Galendria blinked hard, her eyes watering. “Yes, this whole place is filled with it.”

And she can barely handle it. Spoiled brat. Syrdin shoved down zheir impatience, focusing on the task. Zhe put a hand on zheir dagger and followed behind Galendria as she stepped forward.

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“There’s a trail of orange-like smoke going from the tree to the eyes,” Galendria said. “And it ends up there.” She pointed to a distant place in some high boughs at the top of the lower canopy.

“Don’t point,” Syrdin snatched down her hand. “Don’t look directly at it. Just lead.”

She flinched away from zhem before she caught herself, clearing her throat and straightening. “I thought you said the way was to approach it directly.” The last of her terrified, childish look disappeared, replaced with a caustic glare.

Syrdin shrugged, though inwardly zhe seethed. “Then I tried that and it flew away. So we try something else.”

Gale set her jaw and lifted her head, already a full shoulder above Syrdin’s. “Then it’ll be something you didn’t choose.” She didn’t whisper at all anymore. “We’ll try calling out to it.”

A bolt of panic squeezed Syrdin’s bruises. Skunyuv’s furnace! This girl is going to get herself killed. She had gone from shivering to fearless with just a few nudges.

I can still use this. It could only respond in four ways: attack, flee, speak, or ignore. Two would change nothing. Two zhe could work with. “Oh, please, you have courage now?” Syrdin gestured to her with a flick of disdain. “What, are you going to do? March up and challenge it to a battle? You jump every time a dirt-diver leaps.”

“No,” she huffed, “that’s something you might do. I’m going to greet it.”

Syrdin grinned under zheir cowl but scoffed for Gale to hear. “Happy death day, then!” Zhe watched the girl march forward with all the false dignity of a wet cat. Mell and Fennorin shared a glance. Syrdin couldn’t see Mell’s expression, but Fenn’s was of frozen panic. He slipped over ferns and roots to catch up with his princess of bravado.

Syrdin gestured for Krid to go to the other side of Fenn and Gale, then ducked behind a tree, sheltering behind some ferns.

“Gale!” Fenn gasped. “Wait, we should disc–”

“Oh great Watcher!” the girl called in Elvish, “We seek your council! Please be not wary of us simple travelers!”

Oh please, as if that will work.

A deep darkness obscured what sunlight trickled through the canopy as four great wings were silhouetted against the sky. They flapped and stirred up a strong wind, which gusted through the trees, over the ground, and across each of them. An otherworldly screech crackled in the air, sending the forests’ critters scattering from their places among grass and leaf as they echoed the cry. A dirt-diver bellowed as he leaped into the ground, a two-tailed fox scurried to its den buried in roots, and fae mice squealed as they dodged between Syrdin’s feet in flight.

Zhe flattened zhemself to the ground behind zheir tree, breath hitching at the pain in zheir side. Through the broad leaves, zhe could see the others crouched in the dirt, the elves holding their ears.

Then zhe dared to peek upward toward the silhouette. Two piercing yellow eyes, in likeness between a cat’s and an owl’s, leered at Syrdin. The pupils slit into focus on zhem, and Syrdin knew zhe was seen. Nevertheless, zhe dared not move.

The creature fluttered its wings, each as long as Syrdin’s full height. The whole creature was feathered, including the sharp, round face. Two horns branched up from the brow of it, giving it an owl-ish appearance. A hooked beak threatened them with a silent hiss. Under its face, a curved, feminine body elongated by feathers stood poised to swoop at them. Those legs were long and lean, and Syrdin dreaded to be struck by the force of them in flight, pierced like prey by two taloned feet.

Then, most shocking of all, a voice rang in Syrdin’s mind, feminine and coarse, in an old dialect of elvish.

“Dareth who to intrude upon this sanctuary, Fengal’s Forest? One who would calleth upon me? Fie! Knoweth me not, or thou wouldst not call!”

“We five travelers–” Gale began, wincing low. A wild flapping and shrill shriek stopped her.

“None cometh as travelers, rather hunters of murderous attempt!” The Watcher screeched as she spoke in their minds.

Syrdin strained to understand the dialect, older and stranger than the accent of the Etnfrandians. It seemed to be accusing them of hunting something–most likely either the panthrae or the pondscum monster. Zhe looked to zheir companions. Galendria had drained pale again, her bravado collapsed. Mell gaped upwards, her jaw dropping into her neck. Krid had backed away and stood in a ready stance, one claw on the handaxe strapped to his belt.

Then, groveling from the ground into a bow, Fenn spoke. “Ferngal, being you? We five seeke no harm to your land, yet harm have we met. A misfortune.”

Syrdin guessed it wasn’t a great representation of the dialect, because zhe could understand it.

“Lies!” an audible hiss accompanied the voice.“Yee five attempten harm against him, mine pet. Near killen him! I, Ferngal the Watching, condemne you!”

Syrdin watched Krid begin to circle the Watcher, slowly loosing his ax from his belt. Bat’s dung. He doesn’t know what anyone’s saying.

Fennorin flinched. “Apologies, mighty one. We killed not the creature, and we also were met with peril!” He was barely trying to hold the dialect. “We only passeth through this forest. We’ve–”

“Fenn, it’s gathering magic to itself.” Galendria whispered her interruption, her attention fixed on the creature.

Gathering magic. With only a flight advantage and the reach of her long legs, this foe was intimidating. But if she commanded a full mastery of fae magic–and based on Gale’s words, zhe did–then zheir own spells would do almost nothing. She would see in Syrdin’s darkness, immune to Syrdin’s charms and potions. Thus, already battered and drained, they stood little chance.

“Deception! Shutteth are the doors that keepeth the way. None lies open.” The creature’s second pair of wings spread open, raised in a threatening arch. Syrdin crouched, ready to spring out of the way. “I, Ferngal, condemne them! Be gone!”

The air stirred. It seemed to pull into the Watcher’s wings as she raised them back, back, far behind her. Zhe pressed zhemself further against zheir tree until the pain radiating from zheir ribs choked zhem. Whatever the attack was, it would be a powerful one.

“Hey bird-brain! Leave them alone!” Krid roared his taunt from the other side of the Watcher. Syrdin flinched at the sound of metal clanging against metal, Krid banging that ax against his shield. “Or are you a horn-brained bully?!”

Syrdin closed zheir eyes. Fool! At least the Watcher couldn't understand Allspeach.

There was a creak in the bows, then a roaring rush of wind–in the other direction. Syrdin gasped and peered around the tree. The trees bent back from the watcher, a thunderous crack ricocheting from the force and speed of the gust. Krid was tossed in the air. He slammed into a tree back-first with a sickening thud. He slumped over, limp, his handax falling from his claws.

“Krid!” Fenn’s pained cry ripped through the air.

The power! Syrdin’s heart caught in zheir throat. Sadness followed fear. Krid deserved a better death. Or perhaps a longer life.

Mell was on her feet before the ax hit the dirt, scampering to his aid. “Damn those pixies!” Syrdin could hear the anger in her elvish, the bloodlust. “Had to lead us to the Watcher’s favorite pet!”

The creature chortled in a sick, gurgling sound, and her voice rang in Syrdin’s mind, louder than before. “None shall raiseth a shout against me unpunished. Tis justice dispensed, pet for pet.”

“Pet?!” Fenn yelled, raw anger grating through his voice, “He’s a man, not a pet!”

Syrdin gritted zheir teeth. This creature held more power than zhe could have conjured in zheir nightmares. Was that even meant to be fatal? Zhe had a long way to go before zhe would be ready to face a Fae god.

“Arguen not, for der difference es little. Justice stande.” The monstrous owl-woman fluffed the feathers behind her head. “If flee’n you now, none shall pursueth you. Be gone! Or dost thou defiest Ferngal? Wishest thou to battle?!”

I should run for it. Syrdin had witnessed only a fraction of its strength. The chance to ask questions was gone. Zhe pulled zheir dagger and prepared to dash away. I can’t die to this thing. I have work to do.

“He’s alive!” Mell’s cry stopped zhem. The drakeman growled back to consciousness. Syrdin felt an unexpected gladness. He was a noble-hearted man, and even zhe had wished him a good long life.

Zhe glanced at him; then to Fenn, bent in a crouch toward the ground, his mouth silently open and limbs trembling beneath him; and then Gale, frozen with fear. Every calculation of zheir mind told zhem to obey the watcher and flee, to abandon this group, and reform zheir plans. Zheir feet didn’t move. Was it magic? Intimidation? Fear? Zhe knew it wasn’t those, but not quite what it was that made zhem hesitate; and then grip zheir dagger tighter, lean into the tree, and wait. Zhe would see what the others would do.