by J. J. Faulks
It was not long before Kraion noticed that Haelus’s boat had lowered its sails and come to a halt. Kraion realised that Haelus must have spotted the fish. He steered his boat towards Haelus, edging ever closer to his daughter.
As he approached, Kraion could see that Haelus was holding a spear in his hand. Kara stood back, lingering by the mast. The fish was circling the boat. Then the boat started to rock, gently at first, but each time growing a little more violent. The fish was buffeting the boat. Haelus aimed his spear but the weapon never left his hand.
With one wild rock, Haelus tumbled from the boat. The rocking slowed. Forever seemed to pass before Haelus emerged from the water, spluttering and gasping for breath, only to be dragged back down moments later. Then he was gone.
Kara screamed for her father. Kraion tried to steer his boat alongside the other craft, but the currents caused by the mighty creature kept pushing him back. When the fish appeared at the surface again, Kara shouted for help and Kraion feared that his daughter would be taken next. But the fish did not strike the boat as it had done so before. It waited peacefully at the surface.
Tentatively Kara neared the edge of the boat. She reached her hand into the water and stroked the rainbow scales. Kraion urged her to trust the creature, and Kara lowered herself into the water. The fish lifted Kara upon its back and carried her gently towards her father’s boat.
Kraion was so relieved to hold his daughter again, and so grateful to the fish for its help. When he returned to shore, he and his daughter told the mighty tale of Haelus’s battle with the fish and how both had succumbed to the waves.
The fishermen no longer went in search of the rainbow creature, and the fish was never seen again—except on the rare occasion that Kraion and Kara ventured out upon the waters of that infinite lake.
A shriek ripped through the trees behind them. Orleigh’s head whipped round, curls flying, and she stumbled closer to Piprin, her eyes wide and her skin ashen. Piprin urged her to walk in front, but even still she kept looking round, seeking out the animals in the darkness.
“Keep up!” Beighlen shouted, but he had disappeared beyond the black curtain that loomed ahead.
Piprin did not see Orleigh trip. One moment she was walking in front of him, and the next she was screaming and falling towards the forest floor.
The branch in front of her bowed down and then swung back up with a metallic twang. At first he thought that Orleigh had caught hold of the branch, but her hands were stretched out in front of her, ready to break her fall. A glimmer of gold sailed through the air and whistled to the ground, like a shooting star falling through the night.
His hand seized at his throat, fingers scrambling for his vial. With a deep sigh, his eyes slipped shut. It was still there, its contents still protecting him. But that could mean only one thing. His eyes sprang open again. Orleigh’s vial—she had lost it to the thick blanket of leaves that enshrouded the earth.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The eyes of the trees swivelled towards Orleigh, watching over her where she lay atop the twisting nest of roots. Piprin backed up towards her, his eyes fixed on the black chasms between the tree trunks. A snarl lurched out, hitting him like a blow to the back of the knees. With his legs weak and wobbling, he extended a sweaty palm to Orleigh.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
From out of the darkness, Beighlen ran towards them, hurdling over the roots and sweeping under the low branches. “What happened?” he demanded.
“I fell, that’s all,” Orleigh said, pulling herself to all fours. “But I’m fine.”
She accepted Piprin’s hand and hauled herself to her feet. As she brushed herself down, the dirt and rotting leaves that had stuck to her hands and clothes rained back to the ground. When she checked for the vial, her fingers grasping for something that wasn’t there, her eyes widened and the blood drained from her face.
“My vial!” she said. “It’s gone!”
“Where did it go?” Beighlen asked.
“It caught on the branch,” Piprin said, pointing to the low bough that Orleigh had fallen on. “The chain must have snapped, and it fell to the floor and disappeared.”
“It can’t have disappeared!” Beighlen said and he kicked the leaves at his feet. When that failed to unearth the necklace, he dropped to his knees and sifted through the fallen leaves by hand. “She needs that blood to protect her from—”
He was interrupted by a low grunt. Two streams of smoke spiralled out of the darkness, followed by one arched claw and then another. A barbed tail lashed out on their right, cracking like a whip, whilst a high-pitched screech assaulted them from above. A spider-like creature, with legs longer than Piprin’s, scuttled down the tree trunk in front of them but disappeared, hiding amidst the lowest branches.
All around them, eyes of chiseled amber and ruby glinted through the darkness. They burnt as bright as torches, as if the creatures had devoured the spirit Fire, trapping him within their skulls.
A twig snapped behind them. Piprin jumped and Orleigh shrieked. They spun round to see a wolf-like creature prowling out from between the trees, its low, rumbling growl reverberating through them. A sharp pink tongue darted out and the wolf licked its snout, baring two rows of yellowing, flint-like teeth.
Beighlen grabbed up a long stick from the ground. It was as thick as his arm and knobbled like a mace. “Get behind me!” he ordered.
The wolf barked, a deep, rough bark that made the hairs on Piprin’s arms stand on end. It barked again and the other creatures of its pack slunk out from the trees behind it.
Piprin clutched Orleigh’s hand and they backed themselves towards Beighlen. His other hand held his vial—if only he still had the second flower!—and he pulled the chain over his head. With Orleigh stood between him and Beighlen, he pressed the vial into her palm.
Orleigh stared down at it, her brow furrowing. Her eyes shot wide open and she shook her head wildly, thrusting the vial back to Piprin. “No! You can’t! You need it!”
“So do you,” he said, folding her hand over the vial and pushing it away. “Please take it.” He stooped down, arming himself with a stick of his own. “I chose to come here. I knew the risks.”
The wolf lifted its nose and sniffed the air. Its eyes slid shut, just for a moment, and its mouth warped into a vicious smile, a thick cord of saliva stretching down to the floor. When its eyes reopened, they were sharper, glinting like faceted gems.
“And I promised I would protect you,” she said. “Before the fire, I promised to protect you.” She opened out the silver chain and looped it over his head. “Think of your family. Your life is worth more than mine.”
“They’ve caught your scent,” Beighlen said over his shoulder and he trained his stick on the wolf. “They can smell mortal blood.”
“No, it’s not!” Piprin said. “You’re special, Orleigh. You can’t die.”
“Then neither of us will die,” she said. She scrabbled on the ground, picking up rocks the size of a fist, first filling her pockets and then clutching one in either hand. “We’ll fight like Guardians and we’ll defeat the Hunters. Agreed?” Her blue eyes sparked, like streaks of lightning electrifying the sea.
Piprin nodded. He swallowed, his damp hands tightening on his stick. “Agreed.”
The wolf howled, and the other creatures joined in its battle cry. It lunged forward, paws pounding the carpet of leaves as it broke into a run. Beighlen swung at it, but the wolf caught the stick between its jaws, wrestling it free from the demigod’s grip and tossing it aside.
Orleigh threw the rocks in her hands. The first missed the wolf, striking a creature that resembled a small bear but had thin, leathery wings jutting from its back and needle-pointed horns where its ears should have been. The bear yelped and veered away. The second was on target, but the wolf ducked, the rock sailing over its head and skipping along the gro
und behind.
She grabbed the stones out of her pockets, hurling them too, but the animals kept coming, sweeping in like a tidal wave. “What do we do?” she shouted.
A hiss whispered in Piprin’s ear, sending a shudder rippling through his shoulders and neck. He whirled round, brandishing his stick. Coiled around the branch next to his head was a thick, muscular snake, scales glistening like midnight thistle. He hit at it, beating it back, but its jaws opened wide, angry fangs protruding from the cavern of its mouth.
“What do we do?” Orleigh repeated.
Piprin glanced back over his shoulder, blindly thrashing at the snake. Beighlen had retreated and spread out his arms, shielding Orleigh. Both were unarmed with the animals only three strides away. Two strides. Orleigh ducked down, her arms wrapping over her face. One stride. Beighlen flinched, turning his side to the creatures, leaving Orleigh exposed.
Piprin froze, his mouth hanging open. Orleigh. The creatures were going to get Orleigh. He had to reach her, he had to protect her. But his legs were numb. He couldn’t move. The stick fell from his hands, landing with a thump, thump as it bounced and then settled against the ground.
The creatures bounded past Beighlen, not so much as blinking at him with his immortal blood. Orleigh peeked through the gap in her arms, cowering as she surrendered to her fate.
“No,” Piprin whispered, his voice hoarse. “No!”
But the animals didn’t stop. They flooded past Orleigh, like water breaking around a boulder in a stream. They did not care for her either. They were coming for him.
“Piprin!” Orleigh screamed. “Run!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
As Piprin turned, the snake reared its head, its jaws yawning open, ready to strike. He ducked down and ran, the pale underbelly of the snake skimming over the top of his hair. The branches of two of the trees had intertwined, forming a knotted arch with fine tendrils woven like gossamer that draped down over it. He ran beneath the arch, brushing back the net of threads and made a hard right, his hand steadying himself against the trunk of the tree.
He threw himself into the darkness, his heart pounding so hard that it might burst from his chest, its boom, boom, boom filling his ears. His legs ran faster than they ever had before, cycling over and over, his feet in free-fall.
The clop of hooves pummelled the ground behind him, like a stampede of wild horses churning the earth. He glanced back. Fiery eyes danced through the shadows, bobbing along like lanterns on a twilight sea.
A clawed hand of roots reached up through the forest floor ahead, its crooked fingers forming a narrow tunnel that hugged the base of the tree. He sprinted towards it.
The heat of deep orange eyes bore into him as a creature emerged on his left, pounding alongside him. It had the sleek body of a panther and leathery wings tattered like burnt paper.
Piprin dipped below the roots just as the animal pounced. It landed on the roof of the tunnel, its thick paw swiping at him through the tangled wood. The fingers groaned and bowed, knuckles cracking. He pressed himself to the damp soil, scurrying free from the tunnel, and he made another sharp right.
A white haze of sunlight hung in the distance, peeking through the limbs of the trees. With the soft allure of a mother’s voice, it called to him, beckoning him. As he ran closer, the light sank behind a fallen tree that stretched across his path, its girth twice as great as his height.
Feet never slowing, Piprin leapt at the tree trunk, flinging himself onto the wood. His fingers scrabbled for a hold, nails digging into the slender grooves of the inscriptions, and he clawed his way to the top. One leg swung over the trunk and, hooking his ankle, he pulled his body up.
The rough edges of the bark grazed his palms as he slid forwards and dropped to the other side. He fell into a squat and tumbled forward over his shoulder. He stumbled to his feet, his thighs screaming, and he pushed on.
The sunlight flowed into the forest like water spilling into a bowl. It hurt his eyes to stare at it, but he could not tear them away.
A branch overhead creaked and Piprin jerked his head up, his sun-dazed eyes darting here and there as they struggled to see. Perched on the branch ahead there was a stocky, rodent-like creature with fur as dark as tar except for a white star that burst across its chest. It had large, rounded ears and a long, thick tail that wrapped around the branch. It opened its mouth, revealing two glistening rows of teeth, the front pairs sticking out from its bloodied gums like sharpened nails. It screeched and swung down by its tail into his path.
Piprin dived beneath the creature, knocking the air from his lungs as he threw himself to the floor and slid on his stomach through the rotting leaves. Spluttering for breath, he scrambled to all fours, his eyes fixed on the light that loomed ahead of him like the sun domed on the horizon.
As he fought to rise to his feet, something caught hold of his left ankle and gave it a vicious tug, pulling him back to the floor. A jolt of pain shot up through his leg and he cried out. He tried to roll onto his back but with his ankle held in a vice-like grip he could only twist as far as his side. The rodent-like creature with the starburst chest had its jaws locked around his ankle. He kicked at it with his right foot and tried to shake himself free, but its jaws clamped tighter still and it growled at him through the mouthful of his flesh.
“Help!” he shouted. “Help!”
Piprin had scaled the fallen tree trunk as easily as he had climbed the old oak at home, and had disappeared over the other side. Some of the animals that pursued him hurled themselves at the trunk. They buried their claws into the wood and hauled themselves over paw by paw. Others slipped down and, undeterred, they scampered along the length of the tree, seeking a way around.
Out of breath and a stitch binding her side, Orleigh slowed to a jog. She stared at the fallen tree, wide eyes drinking in every inch of its height. There was no way that she could climb over such an obstacle.
Beighlen surged ahead. He leapt into the air, launching himself at the wood, but he lost his grip and fell back to the floor. He tried again, but still couldn’t find a hold.
The animals were trotting to the top end of the tree. Orleigh veered after them. If she and Beighlen couldn’t climb over, they would have to follow the animals around.
Halfway along she stumbled as her toes dipped into a shallow ditch. She stopped and followed the channel with her eyes. It passed beneath the tree.
“This way!” she called to Beighlen and waved him over.
She sank to her knees and began scooping fistfuls of loose soil from the bed of the ditch, carving out a tunnel deep enough for them to squeeze through. She lay down on her stomach and crawled through the narrow gap, using the overground roots on the other side to haul herself free.
A lone figure ran through the forest ahead, silhouetted against a basin of sunlight.
“Can you see Piprin?” Beighlen panted as he struggled out from beneath the trunk. As soon as he clambered to his feet, they started running again.
“Over there.” She pointed to the figure. “Is that the edge of the forest?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been in this part of the forest before.”
The first of the pack were beginning to emerge over the tree trunk, and trundling towards them from the far end was a wild boar with thick, almost black bristles that were as hard and as honed as the quills of a porcupine. Two sets of tusks, sharp like knives, thrust from its snout.
“Why aren’t the animals attacking me?” she asked. “I thought that they attacked everyone with mortal blood.”
“They do,” he said. “There’s only one explanation: you must have immortal blood.”
Her head snapped round. If this was some kind of joke, she didn’t find it amusing, but Beighlen’s face was serious, lacking even the suggestion of a smile.
“I don’t have immortal blood,” she said, frowning. �
�How could I?”
“What if your mother was already pregnant when she left the Land of Gods? That would make Teymos your father, that would make you a demigod—like me.”
She stopped, as sharp and as sudden as the snapping of a string, and the whole world jolted past her. One of the threads of her being had snagged on Beighlen and it was unraveling in front of her as he continued on towards the light.
“Help!” Piprin’s voice cried, pulling out of her daze. “Help!”
“Piprin!” she shouted, wild eyes tearing the forest apart, but the silhouette had succumbed to the darkness.
“Over there!” Beighlen pointed to the ground.
Piprin was lying on the floor, thrashing at a black bundle of fur that gripped his leg. Beighlen threw himself on the animal, but it lashed out with a muffled screech. Beighlen drew in a sharp breath, clutching his arm to his chest. He gritted his teeth and grabbed at the animal again, wrestling with it and pinning it to the ground. His arm hooked around its neck and jerked back with a twist. There was a crunch, Orleigh winced, and the creature fell motionless.
Beighlen sat back on his heels, cradling his arm against his shirt. A dark stain blossomed across the cloth, like ink seeping into a piece of parchment. He glanced over his shoulder and murmured, “We need to keep going.”
A flood of eyes, blazing like lava, was washing towards them. Orleigh gave Piprin her hand and helped him to his feet. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” Piprin said, but as soon as he put weight on his foot he jumped back, biting down on the insides of his cheeks.
“Here,” she said and pulled his arm over her shoulders. She bore his weight and one step at a time they hobbled towards the sunlight.
The light did not mark the edge of the Great Forest, but a large clearing surrounded by a circle of twelve trees. The tops of the trees bowed outwards, opening a void in the canopy and exposing the gaping blue sky above. Sunlight poured into the void, streaming down upon the rippled mounds of dry earth with their checkered coating of dark purple moss and the tree stump that pierced the heart of the circle.