Chapter 7: The Great and Terrible: Chapter 7

I might have been better off trekking the forest on my own.

Huffing and puffing behind Jasher, I worried I was a farmgirl pushed past her limit. He kept a punishing pace: swift, unrelenting, and as merciless as he was. For all I knew, he planned to kill me through extreme exercise. Bathroom breaks were infrequent and hurried. Lunch consisted of jerky, a repeat of last night’s dinner, but eaten on the go.

We came upon twisted trees with blade-like limbs, snake infested scrub bushes, and a mushroom field guarded by red-eyed mice. Thankfully, nothing else attempted to murder me. But anything living watched me, sharpening a mental fork and knife. I wasn’t disappointed we weren’t approached by people I sensed in the shadows. More than a few times I wondered if the inhabitants of the forest feared Jasher.

“Oomph!” I slammed into him and ricocheted backward. Argh! This wasn’t the second, third or even fourth time he’d stopped abruptly like this. I’d already lost count.

“I told you to pay attention,” he stated, calmer than ever. Then he motored on, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

“Have you been doing that on purpose?” I demanded with gritted teeth. Technically, he hadn’t issued a question, but as frustration scraped at my fraying nerves, I didn’t care if I broke his rules.

“Yes.”

The simple response nearly wrenched a screech from me. “Why?”

“You are being foolish, getting lost in your head.”

Well. At least he hadn’t lost his propensity for blunt honesty. “You aren’t wrong, but how do you know that?” Since we’d kicked off, he hadn’t glanced my way once. And I would have noticed, having stared at his broad shoulders plenty, watching like a weirdo as beads of sweat trickled under metal and over muscles and tattoos. “Unlike the birds, you don’t have a third eye.” Wait. “Do you?”

“They don’t have three eyes. They have four.”

What!

“One is in the back of their heads. But alas, I’m without such a prized defense. I only know what you’re doing because I’m not lost in my head. I remain aware of my surroundings. Notice minute details.”

Okay, so that stung a little. “Well, la de da, aren’t you special?” I mocked. Forget my nerves. Both feet and each of my lumbar throbbed.

Jasher stopped abruptly, but I was ready for once and hopped to the side, avoiding a collision. A triumphant smile curved my lips as he pivoted, ensnaring my gaze.

“Ha! Joke’s on you.” I smirked up at him. “I never make the same mistake more than a dozen times.”

He searched my eyes for several long, protracted moments, and I gulped. Those sunset irises maybe, perhaps, warmed. Just the slightest bit? No, no, I must be mistaken. Taunting an emotionless executioner wasn’t the way to garner his friendship. Not that I wanted to become friends with Jasher. But an attitude adjustment on his part wouldn’t hurt. A little softening here, a lot less apathy there. No doubt he probably hoped to make me squirm with the intensity of his stare.

Going on the defensive, I raised my chin and glared, expecting him to react like everyone else: grow uncomfortable and move on. But the moment extended, seconds bleeding into minutes. Neither of us looked away.

The atmosphere charged, my awareness of him doubling. Tripling. I began to pant a little. His irises warmed further, and there was no mistaking it this time. He might not be used to eye contact, but he was living for this.

He stepped closer, erasing the small amount of distance between us. “Look away, or you might not like what happens next.”

Breath hitched in my lungs, and it was laced with his scent. A heady perfume as much as a drug. Did he plan to kiss me? I would refuse. Definitely. Emotionless killers weren’t my type. Although he had saved me from the beastie and the river so maybe a (passionate?) embrace with a gorgeous robot wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Finally I did it. I looked away, needing a moment to think without the influence of his animal magnetism. Except, Jasher didn’t wait around for me to rationalize why kissing him might be a great idea. He walked around me—and vanished.

Tension clasped me in a vice grip. Never mind the almost liplock of my imagination. Was I supposed to stay here? Give chase? What happened to him? Where did he go?

Hold up. I narrowed my lids and examined a shimmering veil that hung in the air. An invisible curtain, exactly like the one that had shielded the Governor’s Guild. What waited beyond it?

As minutes passed without Jasher’s return, my curiosity overcame my trepidation. Though my legs shook, I made my way forward. The closer I came to the veil, however, the hotter the bruise on my ring finger burned, just as it had done with the singing flowers. A visible band formed and darkened and even raised like scar tissue.

Hmm. The discolored skin appeared to be an actual ring. A tattoo I’d never gotten. A strange enough occurrence on its own, but when I factored in its location, I wanted to pull out my hair. The band with a single emerald, sapphire, ruby, amethyst, opal, and diamond—the same territories mentioned by Patch—just happened to appear on the same finger I’d worn my mother’s ring? What were the odds?

Another connection to Hakeldama. Daddy had gifted me with the treasure four years ago, on my sixteenth birthday. The morning I turned eighteen, I’d awakened to discover the ring was just gone. Though I’d torn my bedroom and home apart, searched the fields and retraced every step I’d taken, I’d never seen the heirloom again.

What if my mother hadn’t visited this land…but lived in it?

Did the burn in my finger mean something? Did the ring have some kind of magical powers?

No, surely not. Magic wasn’t real; words Mom had conveyed every time she’d spun her fairytales. She extolled the merits of “spiritual authority,” and the driving force behind it. Things I hadn’t understood then and barely comprehended now.

Oh sweet goodness, what was that smell? I jumped out of my head, gagging as soon as the scenery changed. A cart without ponies or a driver occupied a small clearing, with mutant flies swarming the back, where stacks of headless, rotting corpses piled on top of the other. The biggest maggots I’d ever seen wiggled everywhere, leaving a slimy substance on the deceased, the cart’s wooden railing and wheels, and surrounding grass. A fetid stench tainted my every breath, making vomiting a very real possibility.

Jasher crouched near the front of the vehicle, where the harnesses had been cut. His expression bordered on angry. Voice tight, he explained, “The bodies were being hauled to Lux for disposal. Trappers must have taken the drivers and horses.”

The moisture in my mouth dried. “What will the trappers do to the drivers?”

“Depends. Some are forced to labor. Most are eaten.”

The horror! “Trappers are the cannibals you mentioned?”

“In part. There are others, but unlike trappers, they choose to pay for their meat rather than steal it.”

How was that any better? “Shouldn’t we give chase and save the drivers?”

“No. They’re as good as dead. And just so you know, I won’t come for you, either, if you’re taken.” He straightened and rolled his shoulders. “You’ll be on your own.”

His total disregard for my wellbeing raised my hackles. After we’d shared—what? A moment? Please. We’d shared absolutely nothing. I shouldn’t be surprised by this. “I won’t be on my own. I’ll have my compass,” I retorted, earning a glare.

Common sense gave me an internal shake. Stop antagonizing your guide!

Gentling my tone, I asked, “What are those invisible curtains?” Better yet, how could I avoid stumbling through another? “I’m assuming the trappers use them to, well, set traps.”

“They do, yes. The curtains are called sarras. Trappers only leave them behind when they are forced to flee in a hurry.” Pointing to the left and right, indicating an area behind me, Jasher added, “When inside a sarra, you can see past it, but outsiders cannot peer through it. Trappers wait with weapons drawn and attack those who enter their sights.”

I turned to track the direction he’d pointed and discovered a metal bolt thingy driven into two different tree trunks. Not easy to spot, but not impossible, either. From now on, I would be on the lookout.

“How did you know you weren’t walking into a trap?” I asked.

“I didn’t. I hoped I was.” Relish dripped from his tone. “I wished to slaughter the entire company.”

My eyes widened. “You love killing that much?”

“I love killing trappers that much.”

A telling statement. He or someone he loved must’ve been a victim of trappers in the past. “If you’d like to rescue the drivers, I might be on board with that.”

A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Finding trapper camps requires months of searching. They move often, and we’re both eager to reach Lux.” He adjusted the strap of his pack and strode off in the direction we’d come. “Speaking of, let’s go.”

Defenses now pricked, I stayed silent and alert as we abandoned the curtain and trekked deeper into the forest. Scanning for metal in trees and sparkly veils in the air. Listening for footsteps and voices. It wasn’t long before that thick, cloying darkness inched over the terrain.

When Jasher stopped, I stopped with him, even as my heart picked up speed, carrying me miles.

“Another sarra?” I whispered, unable to locate a bolt in the shadows. But I did detect a soft hum.

“Yes.” He stalked off the crumbling road and dropped the pack. “We’ll camp here for the night.”

Well. He must consider this a safe spot, sirenes or not. Puttering forward, I inspected the area with fresh eyes, trying to see what he saw. Thicker bush cover along the perimeter, with briars and thorns interspersed throughout. The sirenes patch. A cluster of mushrooms—my gaze zoomed back to the sirenes.

Such a lovely melody. I wanted only to listen forever and ever and ever and ever. And maybe touch a bloom. Just once. I stepped toward them.

The ring-shaped bruise blazed at the base of my finger, snapping me to attention. Whoa! Almost got snared again. I forced myself to focus on the only sight with a surer hold. Jasher, a tower of brute strength as he prepared the site.

The melody faded from my awareness, and my racing heart slowed. My brain flipped back on. So. The shadow ring did help me. But how? I frowned. And how did a new sphere cocoon us in a hazy circle of illumination, pushing the darkness away?

“Where is the light coming from?” I inquired, marveling.

“My armor is coated in ether ash. Before you ask, the effects last forever.” Gathering sticks, he said, “The water maiden who gave you the compass. Is her name Iris?”

“It is.” I helped him with the collection efforts, tossing handfuls of wood pieces into his pile. “How did you know?” And where could I get some of that ether ash? I’d like to slather my entire body in it.

“She’s an enemy to the Guardian.” He knelt and ignited the first embers with two rocks. For him to risk creating a literal beacon in the night, I assumed no one could see inside our sphere.

I sat across from him, enjoying a waft of heat. “There’s more to the story.”

He worked his jaw before settling in and tossing me a piece of jerky, then the canteen. “She murdered his wife.”

Oh wow. Okay. So not what I’d expected to hear. “That isn’t good.” I nibbled on the meat and sipped the water, then admitted, “I, um, kind of owe her an unnamed favor.” Just another instance of ignorance getting me into trouble.

He threw a log into the fire with more force than necessary. “I suggest you lure her into this forest and kill her before she can collect. Or pay someone to do it for you.”

“Someone like you, perhaps?”

“I’m already on a job. I’m not currently for hire.” His shoulders hiked in a shrug. “My guess is, she’ll demand you kill the Guardian. She despises him.”

I shook my head, emphatic. “I won’t do it.” No way, no how.

“Outside of this forest, such a refusal will make you a liar and subject to death.”

Ugh. Being held responsible for morally corrupt behavior really sucked sometimes. “Won’t killing him outside this forest also make me subject to death? Murder is a crime no matter how you slice it.”

“Yes. But the Guardian’s death isn’t considered murder,” Jasher muttered.

Uh… “I don’t understand.”

“That isn’t my problem.”

I bit my tongue. Well. We’d go a different route with this Q and A. “Why does Iris despise him so much?”

A moment passed. Then another. I figured the conversation had ended. No matter. I’d try again tomorrow.

Then he spoke, his gaze locked on a dagger he sharpened. “There was a time, long ago, when her people rebelled over the Guardian’s leadership. He’d just taken power after a much despised king and queen were killed. The maidens broke many laws attempting to remove him from power. Storms and monstra came. Innocents died and destruction reigned. To stop further tragedy, the Guardian sent his army to their villages. Few survived.”

Before I had time to process and react, Jasher’s attention shot beyond me. “We’re being stalked by a pack of rabdogs, which means we’re being stalked by trappers.” He stood slowly, unsheathing a dagger with each hand.

Apprehension engulfed me in an instant. I’d deal with Iris and the unnamed boon later, when I wasn’t in immediate danger from cannibals. “Can a day in Hakeldama not pass without some kind of trouble?” I chewed on my bottom lip, not sure I wanted to know the answer to my next question. “What are rabdogs?”

“Death on four legs. And if I don’t stop them,” he quietly stated, “they’ll lead the trappers straight to us. Trust me when I say we do not want to deal with the trappers at night.”

After what they’d done to those drivers? No. No, I didn’t want to deal with trappers at any time.

“Do not move, Moriah. You’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it. Besides, no one but me will be foolish enough to approach this area with rabdogs nearby.” That said, he was gone, taking his light with him.

The fire died bit by bit, snuffed out as thick shadows crept in. My breath caught as total darkness consumed me. The burn erupted in my ring finger, and in that moment I knew. Yes, the burn alerted me to danger, helping me navigate this new world. A turn of events I couldn’t fathom. Especially now, while my brain tossed out a thousand and two ways to die.

Deep breath in. Out. Muted sounds left me gasping. The noises grew louder. Louder still. My heart thudded. I feared for Jasher. I feared for myself. Time passed. Minutes. An hour.

Another hour.

Then another and another.

Still another. Fatigue warred with a deluge of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Sleep never came. Eventually, faint rays of morning light filtered through the canopy of branches and leaves overhead. No sign of Jasher. I licked chapped lips and lumbered to my feet. I’d take care of business and wait.

“Hello, sweetcake.”

The unfamiliar voice reached my ears a split second before rock-hard arms locked around my throat and waist, pinning me against an unforgiving body that reeked of filth. Fear overwhelmed me, a single thought screaming through my brain. Trapper!

So much for no one being foolish enough to approach me. Instinct screeched: Run! But though I fought with all my might, I failed to gain release. My captor merely laughed.

“I think I’ll marinate this meat in something spicy,” a new voice purred. A grinning man glided up to me. In his fifties, with crows feet, a comb-over, a thick mustache and normal attire. A beige shirt paired with loose slacks. Old-fashioned iron keys jingled from his waistband.

He gently pinched my chin, turning my face from side to side before skimming the tip of his nose up the curve of my throat and inhaling sharply. “I don’t normally chase my meals, but you were worth it, I must admit. Even more delicious-looking up close.”

A manic laugh burst from me. Yep. Trappers. They planned to eat me. Eat. Me. As in take a fork and knife to my internal organs. Campsite to table. Yet they looked so average.

“She belong to an official?” my abductor asked.

Mr. Mustache grabbed my hand, lifted my palm into the light, and snickered. “Oh, yeah. She’s a sacrifice for Governor West.”

“Bounty hunters are pursuing her, then.”

“They won’t find anything but her bones.” He repeatedly flicked his tongue at me, and there was no hiding my cringe. “I’m Tommy. And you are?”

“Not on today’s dinner menu.” I had one option. Bluff. “My companion is currently killing your rabdogs. If you harm me, he’ll kill you next. I’d rather not have to mop up excess blood.”

“Sweetcake,” he repeated, and tsked as if he felt sorry for me. “Your companion is already dead.”

No! No, no, no. Jasher wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. He was too strong, too capable.

Tommy canted his head to the side, deepening his study of me. “She reminds me of someone.”

“A feast you’ve enjoyed before?” his friend asked.

“Yeah. That’s gotta be it.” His grin returned and widened. “I claim first bite.”