As it turned out, a second walk in the faerie forest met every expectation Nathan had, bar one: excitement.
It wasn't that exciting things didn't happen as they walked. They did. They did in spades. They spent the second day passing through an endless glade of glowing fungus. There were luminous mushrooms that lurched over the path like stunted palm trees, their red-gold gills trailing long, vinelike streamers just overhead. Small, bluish puff balls that throbbed softly whenever a person drew near. Trees near the path were barnacled with iridescent lumps that glittered in the light of the lantern. It was probably the longest time in Nathan's life when he'd been both awestruck and utterly terrified for hours on end: before entering Japheth told him that everything in the fungal copse was painfully fatal to the touch, each in its own uniquely, disturbingly nasty way. Jabberwisp offered to collect samples but Nathan had hurriedly refused.
It got better after that, if better meant crossing paths twice with murderous packs of elves, or an entire day's hike through the dangling garrotes of a harper's grove. Nathan would catch fleeting glimpses of figures that vanished before he could get a good look at them. Soon he’d begun a kind of nerve-wracking I-spy game with himself keeping count of how many somethings had scales, how many had fur, how many were bigger than a horse...
It wasn't all bad, though. There were pleasant, even genuinely magical things they passed, like the colony of wind-fairies living inside a car-sized knot of malformed wood. A flock of the little creatures had danced around them for hours like an escort of constellations and Nathan had been sorely tempted, despite Japheth's warnings, to try one of their acorn-shell jugs of sweetwater.
Another odd moment was the briefly terrifying encounter with another fae, this one male and far less trouble, though he looked so much like the fae woman that they could have been twins. They'd been taking a break on the bank of a rambling cascade of little waterfalls when the fae lord had strode up the path, lost so deeply in his own thoughts that he nearly walked right by them. Only a snort from one of the identical, ghostly white stags flanking him brought his head up in time to notice, and the fae had simply glanced at them in stately splendor, smiled, and inquired how long they were staying. Japheth talked a few minutes with the tall, graceful man, and when the subject of the witch came up the fae lord had sighed "that bitch" before nodding to their guide and vanishing, deer and all, in a haze of false sunlight.
But one after another, good or bad, every stunning sight and experience faded into the endless backdrop of a long, mind-numbing trudge through the shadows of the forest. After five days of constant walking Nathan caught himself wishing that one of the somethings would eat him. Then at least he wouldn't have to walk anymore.
If I have been walking for five days, Nathan thought as he trudged along, and not years. It was hard to tell day from night: sunlight that managed to fight through the canopy was rarer than chicken teeth, but it was more than that. The hours seemed to fold into each other until they might have been seconds, then broaden into achingly long weeks. Time didn’t seem to slow or quicken so much as roil in place like a shaken bottle of water, moving and still at once, dragging them along and yet holding them in place. If they hadn't stopped to sleep Nathan would have been hard put to guess whether time had passed at all or had stretched into years when he hadn't been paying attention.
He wasn't the only who was disoriented: Jabberwisp occupied himself by whispering little tidbits of knowledge in his ear, lessons on the nature of magic, the history of wizards and the worlds. A few times the cobbling repeated himself, not once but several times in a row, and each time swore he couldn't remember the other instances. Maggie had disappeared to fetch firewood one night. Nathan honestly couldn't tell whether she had been gone for hours or he’d been lost in the space between moments until she returned. He wasn't sure which thought frightened him more.
Japheth, at least, seemed unaffected, though he occasionally laughed whenever one of them suffered what he called a 'path sickness.' How he kept it all straight was beyond Nathan: the woodsman led them down a maze of paths that didn't so much bend as Möbius strip. Several times they walked almost completely around one of the massive trees, and just before Nathan expected to meet the path again it inevitably led elsewhere. When he questioned Japheth about it the woodsman simply shrugged and, smiling, told him it was a fae matter.
"Time is an ocean in which we all swim," the woodsman observed. "The currents under the boughs of the Weymaerii are strong, to say nothing of the fae themselves."
Nathan frowned. "The fae affect the 'current?'"
"Of course. The next time we come to a stream, dip your hand in. Does the water not move around your hand? Can you not speed the water where you will it, or slow its course? So it is with time and the fae."
"What does that make us?"
"Sand stirred up by their hands, boy. Motes of sand." Japheth shrugged. "I find it best not to question these things, Nathan, any more than one should question the whispers of the wind or the shapes of clouds. They are, whether we know why or not."
Nathan nodded and was about to reply when Maggie's voice sounded at his shoulder. "How much further today, Japheth?"
The woodsman turned to her and smiled patiently. "All three of you have asked that. Or have you forgotten again?"
"No, I am being petulant."
"Another few hours," he replied before turning away.
"Right. In that case," she shouldered past Nathan and held out Orison. "You. Hold her."
"I already did," Nathan protested. "I just handed her off to you!"
Maggie scowled at him. "No you didn't. Don't you try to lie to me."
Nathan chuckled ruefully and reached for the baby. "Well, it was worth a try."
"Actually you did just hold her," Japheth called back. "For several hours. Just to be fair."
"Yeah!" Nathan gloated. "Your turn! Ha-HA!"
"I-will-hold-her," Jabberwisp sighed, sliding from Nathan's shoulder and reaching out for the infant with his stubby limbs. "Someone-has-to-be-the-adult-here."
Maggie stopped and traded glances with Nathan, then knelt and handed Orison over. As the cobbling's shape bent and wove around the baby Nathan could have sworn he heard a disdainful snort before the little golem skittered off after Japheth.
"Hurry, you two," the woodsman called back to them. "Hurry, before the path takes you."
"Creepy as all hell," Nathan muttered under his breath as he took Maggie's hand and hurried after their guide. "Paths changing. How the hell does he do it?"
"Instinct," Maggie supplied with a smile.
"What, he has magnets up his nose that tug him the way he needs to go, is that what you're saying?"
"Maybe," She chuckled. "I think it's a little simpler than that. His mom is a fae creature, remember. Perhaps it's part of his nature to know."
Nathan nodded. "The way you know when someone's about to die?"
Maggie's smile shrank into a sad little smirk. "Thanks for being so delicate about it."
"Look, I'm sorry," Nathan sighed. "I didn't think you wanted me to tiptoe around these things anymore."
"You don't have to," She said. "I'm just not used to talking about it. Besides, I like it when you talk, even if just for the sound of your voice."
"Really..." Nathan raised an eyebrow. "I dunno, after hearing the fae guy talk...."
"Yeah, pity I can't bear to be near them, otherwise I imagine they'd be great." Maggie retorted before smiling mischievously. "Though you know... his voice was like something chocolate should be dipped in..."
"Quiet."
This was not the first time the woodsman had demanded silence. He had hushed them several times a day, each time crouching low, every fiber of his body bent to the task of drinking in the world around him. Whenever this happened Nathan couldn't resist straining his every sense to discover whatever has spooked him, but had never caught any sign of whatever had been bothering the guide.
Until now.
Maggie's hand tightened and Nathan could feel what passed for her sight raking their surroundings, but even before she found it Nathan heard it coming. Whatever it was wasn't being subtle in its approach. What began as a quiet murmur under the trees quickly grew to become a steady, drumming roar. It sounds like rain, or a... Nathan's eyes trailed down to the forest floor and took in the curious sight of rocks shaking themselves free of the trembling earth.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Stampede.
Nathan seized Maggie and bodily hauled her into the shelter of the nearest tree before she could do more than let out a surprised wheeze. Not a moment later flakes of bark were scraped from its edge by something that clipped the tree with the weight of a truck. Then another. And another. The tree, massive though it was, rattled like a maraca as hit after hit set its branches clattering together.
"Holy shit!" Maggie squeaked.
One of the things slowed and turned to glance at the noise. Nathan caught a brief glimpse of a massive, pear-like body, stocky legs tipped with claws like bananas, shaggy fur, and a frumpy, almost doleful face caught somewhere between apologetic bear and offended pug. A moment later a high, wailing scream sounded that sent a razor dragging along the inside of his ribcage. At that the creature chuffed fearfully and lumbered into the shadows. A little one trailed in its wake, only as big as an armchair.
More animals thundered past like a furry tsunami for another thirty seconds before the flow stopped and a graying specimen staggered past, blood dripping from its ears. It gasped wetly, coughing blood as it collapsed on the path.
Something behind the tree let out a soft, hissing growl, footfalls almost too quiet to hear slowly edging around the tree.
Maggie pulled desperately at Nathan's arm and he let himself be pulled, unwilling to meet whatever it was that could stalk a creature the size of a minivan. He moved as quietly as possible, hearing every step as a thunderclap as they scrabbled away from whatever dreadful hunter lurked behind them.
Why should we? Nathan suddenly thought. Why the hell am I and a freaking avatar of death skittering away from some big natural predator? We could swat whatever this thing is like a−
Will you shut up? Maggie silently screamed.
Nathan caught his foot on a root and almost tripped. Why? He thought as he bit back a string of angry curses. It's not like it can hear us thinking−
It MIGHT, dumbass, even if it doesn't hear you step on EVERY DAMNED TWIG.
Nathan pushed Maggie ahead and staggered up the path, then froze as he heard a bubbling snarl behind him. He turned, unable to help himself, his body curiously slow to respond.
Whether it was a trick of the forest or pure adrenaline the moment was stretched into a lifetime, an awful, endless span to fully appreciate exactly how he was about to die.
Like many kids, Nathan had been obsessed with prehistoric monsters when he was little, but unlike many of them didn't care so much for dinosaurs as for the mammoths and saber-toothed tigers, animals that were more familiar but clearly built for a more savage, desperate epoch. He'd been delighted to discover that if you took most animals, added the word 'dire' and several hundred pounds of fur, muscle, and bone, chances were you probably weren't far off the mark from something that had done battle with a frozen world and won.
The animal that came at him now would have looked at those creatures like so much kibble.
It was slender, after a fashion, but stood high enough to lock eyes with Nathan, unmistakably powerful in a way that no animal he had ever seen could match, straining lines of muscle clearly visible even under its thick, black-brown pelt of ragged fur. A long line of ridges ran down the thing's back, its backbone emerging in blunt crags that became a vicious ball of spiked bone at the end of its tail. The head was more human than feline, a coldly arrogant set of blazing green eyes framed by tufted, narrow ears folded tight against the skull. Heavy, tusklike teeth lined jaws gaping wide in that eerie howl, and Nathan could feel the blood slowing in his veins as it roared. Something clicked in the back of his mind and he realized that the scream was paralyzing him.
Nathan called for power, for heat, for anything that might save him. He could feel the magic rising to his call but slowly, too slowly to matter. Whatever this thing was, it had destroyed any advantage he had before even touching him.
In the space of a blink it was on him, teeth falling as Nathan could do nothing but quietly watch, eyes slowly widening in horror.
Then the creature sprouted a horn between its too-human eyes, paper thin and pale as moonlight. Blood welled around the base as it grew and then etched a red line up its forehead, erupting from the top of its skull in a glittering rush of blood, brains, and flickering light.
Not a horn, Nathan thought sluggishly.
The monster fell at Nathan's feet, almost crushing his toes under the remains of its massive head. He shook himself free of the monster's soporific cries and looked up in time to see Japheth's weight settle in a crouch, one hand splay-fingered on the path, the other flicking wine-dark blood from the tip of his reitha.
"Did he just..."
He just killed a manticore," Maggie croaked. "Backhanded. While doing a double layout."
Another keening howl sounded from the woods, and Nathan groaned. "Can he kill more than one?"
"You owe me, boy," Japheth whispered without turning. "Now run."
"What?" Nathan squeaked.
"Keep to the path. Run." The woodsman turned, dark skin growing pale. "Run now."
Maggie took Nathan's arm and pulled but he tore out of her grip. "We can't just leave him!"
"If we stay we'll only slow him down!" Maggie snarled. "This is all we can do!"
"She-is-right-young-master," Jabberwisp shrilled from somewhere up the path. "you-cannot-fight-them-and-live-a-pack-is-too-dangerous!"
"Can't you kill them?!" Nathan shrieked over the growing chorus of howls.
"If I could don't you think I−"
"RUN!"
Nathan threw a despairing glance at the woodsman and then stopped fighting Maggie, running headlong up the path for moment before turning back. Though it seemed they had only run for a second up a straight stretch of path Japheth was gone, the screams of the strange creatures absent.
"Nathan, what're you−"
He shushed her and tried to smile as he threw down his pack and guitar, stopping to pull out his sword and the perfect metal sphere. "Go up the path, I'll be back with him in a few minutes. Trust me."
Jabberwisp appeared from behind a tree, Orison wide awake and staring. "Young-master-what-is-this-lunacy−"
"Trust me!" Nathan yelled and turned back, ignoring their screams.
This is going to suck.
Japheth had fought manticores before and knew them well enough to hate the things.
They were mindless, unthinking monsters in every sense of the word, raw embodiments of joyful murder made flesh. They hunted not to eat but to kill, stopping once they were too exhausted to continue. Only then would they gorge on their victims and rest. They were among the foulest denizens of the Weymaerii.
The woodsman kept shaped plugs of forest moss and wood to ward off the worst of their paralytic howls but had never faced them down in a pack before. The beasts only gathered when game was ample. Every time he'd faced one it had been a grueling affair, the monster's preternatural quickness and agility almost a match for the half-breed's own, a lightning-fast exchange of feints and lunges that had ended in blind luck each time. He glanced at the one crumpled at his heels. Luck at the beginning, that time. If it hadn't gone for the boy...
He felt the paralysis setting in as the creatures neared and shook himself, closing his ears around the plugs again and allowed a small smirk to crease his face as the quiet set in. He'd genuinely believed he could lead the children through the forest, even after the witch had spoiled things.
A faint tremor shook him and he had to think for a moment before he realized he was laughing, and another to realize why. Manticores. Man-eaters. And so long called half-breed. What an irony.
Then the first leapt from the shadows and it began.
Had there been a witness to the battle that followed it would have seemed something out of myth. A man moving like a thing possessed as he matched one, then three, then four beasts of legend, almost dancing together as claws flashed, macelike tails cracked the air, and ensorcelled bone gleamed. Writhing together like clouds of smoke, each blow from the catlike monsters was elegantly evaded: here their prey turning just enough to avoid a crushing blow from a paw, there his dagger flicking out to draw a line of red across the brow of a creature, punishing a moment of incaution. Had his defense been guided by fate or their attacks made in measured step the battle could not have been swifter, more graceful or more deadly, and any witness would have marked it so.
But there was no one to watch, and no one to see when the woodsman fell, the jaws of one of the beasts finally snapping shut on his leg just before it left the earth. His every muscle clenched and then went slack as the pain set in, the plugs falling from his ears and letting their cries ring through his bones. The woodsman let out a choking scream, he fell, and the monsters descended.
"HEY!"
Japheth found himself cursing even through the mind-ending pain of the bloodied rags left of his leg. Fool, he's killed himself!
The woodsman fought to turn through the cold iron of the manticores' song, crying out in pain but unable to resist watching the artificer's end.
His eyes widened, all pain forgotten.
The monsters had oriented on the boy's cry and leapt forward with all their mindless savagery. However, when they neared his small, unflinching body they howled, shrinking back as though he was a living fire and not a man.
A man, and yet he burned. The air seethed around him as though alive, rippling and flexing in the impossible heat. Every step left a glittering footprint of blackened glass as fallen leaves and needles at his feet went up in a crackling inferno of sparks, swirling around his ash-clad body and the silver-black blade in his hand. Coronas of golden light circled the boy, a sign that Japheth somehow recognized as a mark of restraint, even in the midst of the artificer's fury. How he stood before the beasts and their howls Japheth couldn't see, for blood gleamed from the boy's ears in the burning light he cast.
The creatures hissed and spat only a few yards from the boy, caught between their need for blood and their instinctive terror. Impossibly, the boy laughed and lunged forward, leaping across the loamy soil and catching one of the beasts flatfooted, stretching out to... Japheth blinked and stared, unable to believe it. To touch the monster.
The manticore shrieked, the sound painful but without the chilling agony of its hunting cry. The skin of its flank split beneath Nathan's hand, the white gleam of bared ribs showing for a moment before they blackened at his touch.
The creature instinctively swiped its handlike paw as Nathan even as its wiser packmates scrambled away, howling as the limb withered down to ash-streaked bone before even touching him. It clutched its paw to its chest and whimpered, the sound disturbingly human as it limped away.
The beasts fled, fright finally winning through their bloodlust as they disappeared beneath the trees. The boy watched them flee for a moment, cold satisfaction burning in his eyes as the heat faded. Then he turned and ran to Japheth's side. "J, you have to get... ho damn, that leg. That's going to leave a mark." He cocked his head and frowned. "Think you can keep it?"
The boy's frown deepened as Japheth's voice slowly came back, gradually rising from pain-strangled chuckles to a full bellow of laughter.
"Damn... boy, I know not whether... ah... whether you are a fool or a hero." The woodsman let out a hiss of pain and leant back. "Are you sure... sure you should not be guiding me through this forest?"
"Sorry, can't hear you," The artificer tapped his finger on the 'blood' leaking from one of his ears, which gave a dull clink. "Filled my ears." he sighed. "And I was so proud of those balls."
"Good, then you will not hear this." Japheth sat up, choking back a bark of pain, and stared down at his leg.
"My leg... my leg is gone, boy, and your friends with it. The paths will change before you can find them again, before... before I could find them again if I could walk. They will have changed by now. Even if I could stand... I'm sorry, but they are lost to us."