14 | Downriver

As Eli prayed, shattering the dead tree seemed to break whatever spell the woods cast upon them. Or it was broken with the snake. Perhaps it was the half-dead creature’s doing the entire time. Perhaps the sunlight weakened it, and they only needed to wait out the night.

As the path from the monastery would have eventually led to the river, so does this path they’ve cut through the ferns, relying on the trampled fronds and Klia’s certainty this is the correct venture. Eli realizes, as he hears the roar of the small river, and as they step out onto the pebbled bank of it before midday, that their trail will be lost with the running water.

Inspecting the surrounding vegetation, Eli crosses the crystal stream—as wide as him thrice over and half as deep in the worst parts—and searches for signs of where the monsters ran.

He finds nothing.

Against better judgment, he raises his voice a bit higher. “Thistle?”

Silence, as expected.

Eli turns back to Klia sitting on the opposite shore on a sun-warm rock, her too-severe eyes trailing on him. He may have to follow the little girl’s lead from here on out, in every sense of the word. Now, he cannot even find a path to track.

They could not have disappeared. Such large creatures would not manage it. Which either means they followed the river in one direction or another. Eli doesn’t know where it would lead to head upriver, but downriver he knows passes right through the village. From here, it will probably be about an hour downhill.

“Klia?” he asks, quickly gathering firewood so he can roast the strange grass rat as quickly as possible. He does not have a large store of food, as he learned quickly that even preserved food often rots. Even the mushrooms he brought with him will not last forever, so he must make a short stop to cook this strange animal, even if it takes them father from Thistle.

No use in either of them starving, the girl in particular. Eli himself might be able to still go ages without food, but the child will not fair so well.

“There is no sign of the monsters on the other side of the river. Can you tell me which direction they went?”

Her brow furrows, and she glances back into the woods from which they just came. Eli doubts they would’ve doubled back—all the trails eventually converged into one larger one, as he suspected, and there is only the one leading out. If they doubled back, it cannot be here, or they would’ve crossed paths.

“It is likely either upriver or down unless you know otherwise?” He is not about to dismiss this strange, otherworldly connection the two children have. So far, Klia has picked correctly the path which led to where all the monsters eventually converged along the river. And Eli has so little else to go on, with no other damage to the woods and the river is a stretch of twisting, uninterrupted stones and calm water.

I will not fail my son in this—we will bring Thistle home.

It won’t taste the best, but he hurries to butcher and cook the rat on the small, open fire. In broad daylight, it shouldn’t attract anything, but he doesn’t wish to risk it. The sooner he is finished, the sooner they can continue.

Still frowning, Klia rises and stands on the shore of the river, turning her head in each direction, the wind catching her hair. He doesn’t interrupt. Does this connection have something to do with the magic she was gifted at birth, mutated as it is? Or is it something learned? Eli touches the dead stone of a necklace beneath his shirt. He wishes to call his son to him but knows it impossible. Stronger, he wishes to call Lyra to him, but such is an even more impossible magic.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

By the time the meat is almost safe to eat, Klia turns back to him, visibly upset.

Eli chooses his words as best he can, softening his tone, “Can you tell which way your brother went?”

Klia stamps her foot, then waves her hands helplessly, not in a way that has Eli believing she is trying to speak to him. Frustration is rather universal.

With the same tone, he asks, “Have you lost touch with him completely, or don’t know the direction?”

Again, she stomps her foot, then stalks down the river. Eli watches her for a moment, uncertain what her plans are. As expected, she spins on her heel and heads the opposite way up, fists clenched, jaw set, a familiar set of stubbornness in her sweet little eyes.

Perhaps my son is with me after all, Eli thinks, barely amused by his own dry humor.

Eli tastes the rat, nearly burning his tongue, but it’s good meat. Plenty of animals are still edible to hunt and kill. He does so often, setting little traps around the edge of the monastery for the creatures not yet mutated into nothing. If it were a contagious thing, he would be long rotted into his own version of the Unknown monsters. Still, he has never been able to stomach cooking up something that was beginning to overgrow with magic. Never been hungry enough, he supposes.

“Girl, stop your pacing, eat. Food helps you think.”

Calmly, he slices off a piece and waves it at her kindly. If he hides his own panic and the minutes ticking by, perhaps it will help. After a moment of sitting, eating, and watching her chew angrily at her food, Eli rises and paces up and down the shore himself, concerned he is missing something. As he knows, he has never been much of a tracker. He knows the basics, certainly, and has hunted enough to keep in practice, but finds no signs.

Lyra was a half-decent tracker, now he considers it. It wasn’t her passion, and she only learned it for the witness of the islands where she grew up. She rarely had reason to be tracking anything when others of their kin had skills that made them exceptional at such. He has ached for her company for many years but feels her absence acutely now.

He attempts to consider the logic of the monsters—in the past, he would not consider such, but they took Thistle without harming him, and have continued to run with him without causing him harm, at least none that has left a mark on the surroundings. Reasons are difficult to discern when Eli can’t even begin to grasp their wants.

Would they turn upriver, rather into the mountain range?

Or downriver, past the human settlements and into the wider world likely more mutated now than I could’ve ever imagined?

At the base of it, he would believe upriver, into the deeper trees.

But they’ve been running down the mountains this entire time and would be doubling back uphill now. Unless they are intelligent enough to trick Eli and double back, he doesn’t see why they would do this.

Besides, such large creatures do not tend to dwell in the high areas of the lands—his mountaintop kept him safe for a reason.

At the worse, they could travel to the nearest town and see if anyone’s noticed any monsters. Creatures of such a size would be neigh impossible to miss, particularly with the narrow open space of the river.

“Klia,” he says, “I believe we should go down the river, there is a town nearly an hour’s walk from here. If no monsters have come out down there, we will know and can turn back around. It isn’t ideal, but I see no reason why they would go up into the mountains when they’ve been running down this entire time.”

Klia stares at him over the top of her food, face twisted in obvious misery. He doesn’t quite know why he explains these things to her in the same way he would an adult. At least, she will understand his intentions. He is very keen to have these children understand him. Desperate for it, if he is being quite honest with himself.

Abner did not, despite how I tried.

“It is alright, girl, it is not your job to know these things so magically. You’ve been doing very well. We will find your brother.”

Klia’s face crumples, and she bursts into much more open crying than she had the first time. Truthfully, she’s been calmer than Eli expected since Thistle was taken. It’s past time she acted her small age. Still, his heart twists. He does not know what to do with children. He believed he did with Abner, but evidently, he did not.

Gathering up the remains of the food, Eli puts aside his old bones and complaining joints and picks the girl up, unable to do more than murmur small things to her as he ventures down the riverside.