9 | The Unknown

With a roar and a wild lunge, the monster swings its other arm for his head with a whistle quite resembling how Eli imagines a falling tree might sound. He ducks with not as much time as he would’ve had in his youth and slices upward from chest to jaw. It may be fast and large, but it doesn’t seem to have much concept of Eli’s blade.

The Order doesn’t recognize the weapon.

Grim satisfaction lodges in Eli’s chest. Swords and battle axes and any other such weapons of war seem to attract magic until they are destroyed. His small kitchen knives have never done such, as his sickle when he uses it to harvest mushrooms or other edible plants.

It was not meant for war, and so the Order doesn’t recognize it. With a third strike, he fells the monster in its entirety, and nudges its body with his boot, finding the same burst of petals and rotting earth beneath what remains of flesh.

Thistle may be incorrect in his blame of Eli—this is not his fault, despite his choices all those years ago—but he’s correct about one thing.

This magic is wrong, and it is worsening.

Had Eli not already decided he would find his son again, this would be the nail in the coffin.

“Thistle!” he hollers, no longer caring what creatures he attracts with the noise. He’s had quite enough of the boy’s attitude and running away. He can be angry all he likes. Abner obviously never taught him to have respect for his elders, and obviously never to make stupid decisions like running into a rabid forest. “Thistle, get back here now! We’re going to find your father and I’ll be right alongside you whether you appreciate it or not!”

No one answers, but Eli saw the way the child went through the ferns, and he’s still trampling them down as if he had no concept of being tracked.

Muttering and increasingly worried something will be hunting down Klia in the monastery, Eli trots after. “Boy, if you do not get your scrawny behind back here something awful is going to happen to your sister—”

A familiar roar cuts the brightening dawn.

More of them. There are more of them.

Again, he tries, “Thistle—”

A rustle in the ferns is the only warning he receives before the boy slams into him, knocking them both to the soil. Eli swears and shoves away the stinging ferns now beginning to rustle and move in the early morning light. Scrambling to his feet, Thistle makes a run for it back to the monastery, casting a terrified glance over his shoulder. Well, it’s not the way Eli was hoping to get the boy to return, but he’ll take it. Groaning, Eli climbs to his feet and trots after the child, less concerned about keeping him in sight now that he’s returning to safety. With some luck, the monsters are after Thistle, so they won’t bother to track down Eli’s slow steps. Hopefully, the kid can outrun them.

More cries tremble the trees. They’re on multiple sides, crowding into the top of the mountain, circling the monastery on all sides. Eli doesn’t know what he plans to do once he gets back to the safety of not being inside the woods, but at least this time he has a weapon. A weapon the monsters don’t much seem to recognize.

Light cuts the trees, a painfully strange cold along Eli’s skin. Pausing behind a tree, he keeps out of the directness of it until it begins to fade.

Curse or bless the Order for whatever strange being his grandson is.

Does Klia have the same powers?

Another question for later. Still, Eli has not spotted the rest of the Unknown creatures, and this is not quite as comforting as he wishes it to be. If he cannot see them, and cannot see Thistle, he cannot protect the boy.

A looming monster appears in the mist between Eli and the path to the monastery once he steps out into the dimming light. Burning leaves reach him, and he sees some of the drier petals on the monster’s skin smoking little tendrils of heat in the dull light.

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Well, the light is defensive against these things, at least.

Hair raises on the back of his neck. Even without turning, he senses another behind him, finally caught up.

In the distance, closer to the monastery, ever so close to safety but not quite there, Eli spots Thistle in the giant distorted hand of an Unknown.

Several plans flitter at once through Eli’s mind. At the very least, he doesn’t see Klia, and the monsters seem to be converging here. He’s relieved for the little girl and panicking quite a bit for himself and Thistle.

The beast directly before him is felled too easily by the same set of strikes. Behind him, Eli braces for the attack of the next, but it runs around him in a wide loop.

Well, they do learn, at least. Unfortunately for him.

Thistle is fighting against the one with a hold on his arm in much the same way he tries to fight off Eli—digging his feet in and not allowing himself to be picked up, punching at it where he can. Eli’s going to need to get the kid some sort of weapon the Order will not attack. Ignoring the Unknown now trying to avoid him, he sprints as quickly as his old legs will take him up the too-steep slope, cursing Abner for not considering that his father is too old to properly protect two children.

Partially because at least one refuses to listen to him.

The monster yanks Thistle off his feet. For a moment, Eli chokes on all the multitudes of things which might happen to the child—crushed, ripped apart, straight up eaten by whatever passes for a mouth on these monsters.

Instead, it flees down the mountainside with the boy under its arm.

No hope or prayer of catching up, Eli hollers at it, trying in vain to get its attention, but it disappears into the mist in a matter of seconds. The third Unknown that was too frightened to fight him finally charges, learning from the last and not throwing itself directly into Eli’s blade. Numb panic begins to tickle the back of Eli’s mind, but he has fought under much worse odds in his life—he will not cower before monsters, human or otherwise.

Sidestepping the creature’s swing, he hopes and prays Klia is smart enough to stay inside as Eli ordered as he slices the backs of the Unknown’s knees. It topples like a mountain, trembling the ground, and Eli considers that perhaps they have other magic than their mutated forms.

Distracted by a fourth beast roaring upon him, Eli is nearly crushed by it attempting to ram him into a tree. He casts a glance over his shoulder, trying to memorize the path the Unknown took Thistle.

When he turns back, he has a moment to realize a fifth monster has joined the ranks before something resembling a hand snatches him from behind and his world is dark.

* * *

Abner glances up at him from the desk he bends over. Eli doesn’t know what the boy’s doing but knows he’s happy in his work. He has a nice set of skills from the Order, some he shares with Eli, some unique to him. Eli once took a great deal of time from his day teaching the boy to wield the fighting elements he’s gained, but now he’s older, he leaves him much time to do things of his choosing. He is more passionate for works of the mind.

Eli has done his job teaching him. Abner is becoming old enough to decide which skills he would like to focus on for the coming decades.

Still, they have an hour each early morning where his son will practice his swordsmanship whether he wishes it or not. The rest of the day he gets to himself, and he will not lose the physical talents he’s worked hard for. It is a violent world, and Eli will ensure his son can defend himself.

Eli says, “If you stayed up all night, it isn’t an excuse for when I smack you with your own sparring sword.”

Glancing at the clock ticking on the wall—hidden among many other trinkets and bobbles Eli has tried to memorize and failed—Abner grimaces and flings himself over his desk with a dramatic groan, sending one of his many papers flying. Eli chuckles and retrieves the leaflet. It isn’t of much use to his eyes—he’s a learned man, but it was never something he took great pleasure in—but he inspects the diagrams of plants and detailed drawings of plant stems and petals.

“Whatever obsession you have with plants, perhaps you can get your mother’s herbs to grow,” he mutters.

From under his arms and the scattered scraps of parchment, Abner chuckles miserably. “Fa, I told you, ’tis a lost cause.”

“You have stayed up all night, haven’t you?”

He’s answered with another groan.

“Very well, we’ll do stretches and grappling today, then we can go to the baths, is that satisfactory for the young scholar?”

Abner eyes him with that dark gaze of his, matching his mother’s. She’s from the islands off the coast, where heat and sun are so common Eli doesn’t believe one can remember the winter after a few years.

Eli half-expects an argument, but the kid knows better by now. Dragging himself off the bench and raising his hands in a mockery of a fighting stance, he says, “Let’s be going, old man.”

Eli only smacks the back of his head lightly as he passes.

* * *

The sky is staring down at Eli when consciousness returns—at least what tiny sliver of the sky which can be seen through these cursed trees. Light. It is much lighter, almost direct morning sunlight.

Swearing, Eli sits up all at once, regretting it as his head pounds. He rests against his knees so he doesn’t heave up what little contents sit in his stomach and glares at the surrounding trees. Empty. Nothing but those irritating little ferns attempting to sting him at every turn.

“Thistle?” he asks, already knowing the child was taken. From here, he cannot even tell where the creature went, as there are many paths cut through the ferns from their fleeing steps.

The monsters didn’t kill me.

Eli huffs and gets to his feet. Nothing about this is correct. They didn’t kill Eli. They took Thistle without harming him. Eli must track them down. First, he needs some answers.

And there’s one person left here who may be more willing to tell him.