“Guys.” I slid my bow from my shoulder.
Jyn snapped to attention and lifted his sword before sliding a dagger from his boot. He caught the shadow before the others did, his eyes following along as mushroom lights flickered and the grass rustled. Fetian cawed, flapping his wings in agitation.
“Kotsani?” Camion slid his own blade free.
“No,” Jyn murmured. “The movements are too slow, and it’s not exhibiting tracking behaviors.”
Camion tilted his head to listen. “Observing, then?” Jyn inclined his head.
“Can you see it?” I asked. “Will we be attacked?”
“Not sure.” The flat of Jyn’s sword glinted in the light of the mushrooms. I nocked an arrow as his finger lifted to his lips. He sheathed his sword, then tugged the second dagger free as he crept away, disappearing into the grass.
My bow caught light. Nicks and grooves cast tiny shadows across the light wood. The new string glinted. If that were the worst my bow suffered after a tumble through the ocean, colliding with rocks, and days against my pack, I couldn’t complain. Banged up, a bit worse for wear, but still strong. I could relate, even if I didn’t feel particularly strong.
A soft, curious yipping sound broke the quiet. Meryn pulled curls away from her ear as she listened. When the sound repeated, she said, “Does anyone else hear a small child?”
“Sure that’s not Jyn?” Andimir snickered. The Elf slid from the grass behind him, silent as a shadow, and tapped his shoulder.
“She’s sure,” he said, smirking as Andimir jumped.
Meryn reached her fingers out, grazing one of the delicate blossoms nearby. Pink petals wilted on her palm before she lifted her hand, casting glowing orbs into the air. White light washed over the walls and lit the grass. The tiny animal Jyn had been trailing stepped under the lights. For a second, sleek silver fur glittered at the edge of Meryn’s lights—then the creature vanished.
“Zylarra,” Meryn breathed, her expression softening into awe. “They’re legendary.”
Jyn stepped beside her, sliding his daggers back into their sheathes. “So, I assume we’re safe?”
I lowered my bow as Meryn nodded. “They’re peaceful, omnivorous. If they attack, they feel threatened. Even then, they’re more inclined to simply run off.”
She flicked her wrists and the little orbs of light vanished. In the dimmer glow of the luminescent mushrooms, the Zylarra reappeared and sat on her hind quarters. Her small face was almost heart shaped, with long pointed ears and a large, bushy tail that flicked nervously around her front paws.
“Are they related to foxes?” Camion asked, as he lowered himself to a crouch. He lay his blade on the ground beside him. The Zylarra turned her big eyes to him, lifting a paw to clean.
“They’re a distant cousin, I believe,” Meryn said. “I thought they weren’t visible in direct light—they have a cloaking ability. Maybe plants don’t count? Organic light?” She caught my eye. “I would love to test your abilities. Have you conjure a small glow . . . but I’m not sure how she’d react. I don’t want to instigate her. Zylarra are said to have a sense for magic.”
“Which would explain why she took up residence here,” I said.
“But they’re non-violent and can live inside a tree?” Andimir tugged at one of the beads in his hair. “Why would an animal with such an efficient hunting talent not be inclined to hunt?”
“This isn’t her normal habitat. They usually live in forests or caves. Maybe that’s why she seems to be alone.” Jyn scanned the area at her words, but she added, “Besides, they still hunt, when easier food is unavailable. But their numbers are scarce, and reproducing is hard—”
“So they have the skill to hunt but prefer to defend,” I said. The Zylarra dropped her paw to the grass, then stood and stretched. Bright eyes locked onto my face, but her attention returned to Camion, who had extended a hand.
“Are they related to the Kotsani? Or are magic-based hunting adaptations more common than I know?” he asked, clearly enraptured by the tiny silver animal. She lowered her head, warily taking a step toward him. Her bushy tail flicked again.
“They’re more canine than feline, so no, I don’t think so. Titans used to keep Zylarra as pets, but when the former fell the latter vanished.” Meryn watched the small creature. “And there are quite a few species with camouflaging abilities, but I’ve never seen any specific to one light source. Who knows what lives in this tree . . .”
“Can we move on yet?” Jyn asked, throat bobbing. Meryn held up a hand to silence him.
The Zylarra had inched her way toward Camion, tiny whiskers glinting as her nose twitched. He didn’t move, barely breathed, and when the animal nuzzled into his palm Meryn’s eyes widened. She didn’t speak, maybe didn’t dare, watching intently as the Zylarra made her way around Camion, investigating first him, then his pack. He turned his head a bit and the timid creature darted off into the underbrush.
“I can’t believe she let you touch her,” Meryn murmured. She stared longingly at the leaves still swaying where the Zylarra had ran.
Camion stood, lifting a shoulder. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “If it’s any consolation, her fur is ridiculously soft. It’s like liquid velvet.”
Meryn glared daggers in his direction. Jyn intervened before she could comment, gesturing to Camion’s sword. “Let’s keep moving. I don’t want to linger here too long. There’s no ground advantage, and I can barely see past my own arm.”
“What about your superior Elven eyes?” I teased.
He blinked at me, a smirk growing on his lips. “They’re not magical, they’re just better than yours.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping around him as I shouldered my bow and slid the unused arrow back into my quiver. He jabbed me with an elbow when I passed him. My eyes fell to the spiraling stairs ahead, and a knot climbed up my throat.
Not much protected us from a fall. Our own balance, wits, and reflexes, if we were lucky. And the wall of smooth bark to the left.
Camion slid closer as tremors shivered down my spine and looped an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll handle this like the rope bridges.” His eyes locked with Jyn’s.
My friend nodded, taking a step closer, his smile fading. “If you need to stop, then stop. Breathe. We won’t let you fall.”
Andimir’s brows pulled together, but he didn’t ask. Observations better kept to himself, especially in a situation he didn’t completely understand. Another reminder, to both of us, that he had missed defining moments of my life. I was pleased to realize that, this time, no anger bubbled up at the latter thought. I was healing. Slowly, but healing.
A soft chitter broke the silence, then a shrill shriek. Motion burst through the brush around us and petals dropped to the ground between rustling leaves. The Zylarra skittered across the path, terror in her eyes. She halted when she caught sight of Camion. Her ears lay flat to her head, tail flicking back and forth. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Only stared. She loosed a low whine and pawed at the path. Then she darted away, vanishing into the vegetation.
From the side she had left, the plants shuddered. Each of us reached for our weapons and traced a movement that seemed to encompass the entire area. Jyn threw his arm out across my stomach and pushed me backward, against Camion.
“Jyn—”
He jerked his head in warning as he tracked the sliver of motion. A wild heartbeat later, the leaves hushed and the snapping foliage silenced. His fingers tightened around the hilts of his daggers. I gripped the handle of my bow, hand trembling. Silence fell.
The foliage exploded.
Flower petals burst into colorful rain as emerald leaves swirled around us. A loud hiss filled the air. Andimir was swept from his feet by a shadow that was visible one moment, then gone the next. Meryn cast her lights into the air. The shape vanished completely, disappearing as easily as the Zylarra had. Camion slid closer, angling his back to mine. The lights doused again.
“W
hat was that?” Andimir whispered. He didn’t move from where he knelt with both hands and knees in the dirt.
Meryn’s wavered when she said, “Could be a Nyoka.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Jyn muttered.
“They’re—”
“Snakes,” Andimir stammered. Fetian released a screech of fear, then launched into the air to vanish into the darkness.
I turned at the sounds, the fear in Andimir’s voice. The Nyoka had slithered from the foliage again, eyeballing the pirate. Silver glistened along the snake’s body in the dim mushroom light—shimmering, keeled scales that looked as sharp as any blade. I couldn’t see the rest of the Nyoka’s body, but the flat head was at least as large as Andimir’s. A round, golden eye, broken by the vertical slit of a pupil, was angled at the pirate. The snake shifted, inching closer to him, and the scales glowed in the light. Vibrant reds and oranges lay beneath the silver, concealed by a magical camouflage that rendered the Nyoka invisible in normal light.
“Don’t let it bite you,” Meryn whispered through gritted teeth. “I can’t save you.”
Andimir paled. The Nyoka inched closer, slender pink tongue batting his cheek. Jyn released a long breath, drawing a glance from the snake, then said, “You owe me, pirate.”
He darted into the grass. Golden eyes followed him before the Nyoka turned, dipping back into the shadows and vanishing from sight. My hands trembled as I pulled back my bow string, only able to watch as the plants rustled. A hiss sounded. Jyn swore. A sliver of scales appeared on the path, in a circle of glowing light, then the tail disappeared.
Jyn reappeared. The Nyoka’s nose followed, unphased when Jyn slammed the hilt of his dagger into its face. A flash of Meryn’s magic bounced off the glittering scales. Camion and Andimir moved, spreading themselves out. The Nyoka’s head swiveled between them, as if it were debating.
Then the tail snapped out, wrapping around Meryn, rapidly tightening around her. The sharp scales cut into her clothing, her skin. Camion jabbed at the snake, tried to get his blade between the scales. Nothing seemed to penetrate the snake’s defenses.
I released an arrow. The point deflected harmlessly. I aimed for one of the golden eyes, my hands trembling as Meryn gasped. Crimson bloomed on her dress. Taking a breath, I steadied myself, focused. Pointed the arrow’s tip at the shimmering eye—
Missed.
The snake twisted backward and threw its face farther into the light, loosening its hold around Meryn. My arrow had sunk deep into one of the snake’s nostrils. Meryn tumbled to the ground. Andimir raced to pull her away.
Dodging the tail, Camion called out to Jyn, “How are we going to kill this?”
“You’ll have to tickle the softer bits,” Andimir panted. Jyn glared at him and he added, “With a blade, of course.”
The Nyoka vanished into the shadows again, but I paused. Observed. Stones shifted where it slithered, the grass bending.
“One of us has to get under the stomach,” I said. Camion shot a skeptical glance in my direction. “Snakes, normal snakes—their underbellies are soft.”
“I hate admitting you’re right sometimes,” Camion muttered.
“I’ll do it,” Jyn said, rolling his neck.
“How?” Meryn pushed herself upright. Andimir winced at the cuts across her skin, but she shook him off. “They’re shallow. I think.”
“The Nyoka is angry, maybe I can use that to my advantage.” Jyn paced up the path and watched the shifting serpent thrash its head about.
“You’re going to have to lay on the ground,” Andimir said. “And wait for the snake to pass over you.”
“I could be waiting all day,” Jyn said. “And the Nyoka would probably go around me.”
“Are we not going to talk about the fact that you’d be crushed?” I frowned.
“Also that,” Jyn admitted.
Andimir paused where he crouched, helping Meryn tend to wounds. “Is that a no?”
I groaned. Jyn lifted a hand and put a finger to his lips. He shuffled through his pack a moment and pulled out a length of rope.
“Camion, be ready,” he said quietly.
I peered between the pair of them, but there was no more explanation. My pulse quickened. “What do you plan to do?”
Jyn shook his head, already moving, Camion his near-silent tail. They circled the length of the path, Jyn’s nimble fingers tying knots in the rope as they went. A moment passed before he swung the snare.
His first attempt missed, snagging on the arrow and ripping the metal tip free in a shower of black blood. The second attempt looped around the Nyoka’s throat.
Jyn yanked.
Camion rushed forward. The Nyoka didn’t flip completely, instead writhing enough that a section of underbelly twisted outward. Camion sank his blade in, dragging the sharp steel through resistant skin. More of the black liquid sprayed up his front.
Ivory fangs lunged for him. He jumped to the side, loosing a string of profanities when the snake melted into the shadows again.
Jyn held the rope, his heels skidding across dirt and stone as he tried to regain his traction. I dug my boots into a space between rocks and grabbed his arm. He almost shook me off but stopped after noticing my stance. The Nyoka snagged at the rope’s end, flipping back into a patch of light, a golden eye darting in our direction. Meryn moved then, her limp noticeable before she shoved her sword into the eye. At the same moment, Camion and Andimir lunged for the soft stomach.
Wounded, the fight was quickly ebbing from the serpent. That jagged tail snapped again, slapping Camion, the sharp scales biting into his chest. Andimir slammed his sword upward into the Nyoka’s throat.
When the beast stilled, silence fell through the tree. I released Jyn’s arm. He glanced my way, motioning his thanks. I moved to Camion and brushed my hands over his leathers, seeking blood or wounds.
“I wasn’t hit very hard.” Camion caught my fingers when they snagged on grooves dotting his armor. “My leathers did their job.”
“I can carry that.” I looked over my shoulder at Jyn’s voice. Meryn stood a bit behind Andimir, lifting her pack to her shoulder. When she hesitated, he insisted, adding, “You’ve done more than you should have.”
“They’re cuts. I can manage.” Meryn rolled her eyes, wiping her blade off in the grass. “Clearly.”
“What about—” Andimir gestured at the snake.
Meryn shook her head. “The venom may be valuable but even I don’t want to touch that.”
Chapter 21
Soft chittering came from beneath a plant laden with blue and white flowers. The Zylarra peeked from beneath the petals, her little silvery head glinting under the mushroom glow. Jyn strolled past her, leading us toward the stairs, his bloodied daggers loose in his hands. He seemed unphased by the massive snake carcass, or the stairs that groaned beneath his feet. Meryn followed him, using the energy from a vine in her bag to light the path ahead. Andimir went next, muttering softly about finding Fetian. Then I was up.
I studied the stairs for several long moments before I finally laid a foot on the first, my lungs constricting painfully when the wood flexed beneath my boot. Images of a rope bridge, a snapping board, flashed through my mind, the memory a lead weight plummeting into my stomach. I faced Camion and rested trembling fingers on his chest.
He lifted a finger, tilting my chin. Blue and green eyes met my gaze and he pressed his lips to mine before saying, “You can do this. You know I won’t fail you.”
He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. He had proven as much. But he wasn’t the problem.
I didn’t believe I could.
Since the catacombs, my life had been filled with crippling fears and anxieties, new things to send me spiraling. My strength was tested at every turn and, though I pressed on, I was beginning to feel tired. Weak.
I closed my eyes and focused. Of all the terrible memories I had of the catacombs, the one I remembered most vividly was the despair I felt when the Scep
ter in my hands was a fake. The horror. And the failure.
Any hesitation, even a few minutes worth, could cost us another Scepter.
Fears like none I’d ever known had become par for the course, but we could not afford to pay the price for my nightmares. Not again.
So, I inhaled a shaky breath, took a step forward. Then another. Camion had a loose grip around my waist, but the muscles in his forearm were tense, his chest rising and falling more slowly than usual as he listened to each stair I climbed.
At first, the pounding of my heart drowned out all hope that I might relax. Then the stairs kept coming, climbing the entire height of the massive tree, one that dwarfed every tree I had ever seen before. My legs began to ache with the exertion. I bit my lip, kept climbing, and tried to ignore the ever-growing drop to my right.
For a while, all was silent. We climbed, listened. Hoped that nothing else jumped out of the darkness or hid in the shadows. I tried not to imagine the skeletons that likely lay hidden in the foliage far below or what painful deaths they might have suffered. The Nyoka had to eat, and I couldn’t imagine the Zylarra would pass up scavenging the remains. My breath stuttered. Camion’s grip tightened around me, reassuring me even as I felt the soft tremble of nerves that unsteadied him.
Nothing else attacked us though. After the terrors of the catacombs, I couldn’t believe this tree held no more secrets. I scanned the shadows, watched the walls, sought Skyva that I didn’t hear but still feared. No sounds broke the silence, though. So we continued, on stairs that climbed and climbed, seeming to have no end. Hundreds of feet above the Zylarra that was now little more than a distant glimmer below—and the corpse of the Nyoka. I was a touch grateful for the latter.
We paused to rest as we dared. Jyn was more drained than he wanted to admit, his energy nearly spent between the snake and lack of sleep. His steps dragged faster than the rest, but the determination on his face only grew stronger.
I lost track of time. Eventually, the tiresome spiral leveled out a bit. I released my death grip on Camion’s arm, trusting, hoping, that his hand would be anchor enough. The stairs held, though, the boards more secure than they appeared. As the tree narrowed, the mushrooms grew denser, illuminating the path well enough that Meryn could extinguish her own lights. We crested the stairs and a platform spread out at our feet.
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