Galena and Aramar both fell silent at that. The human boy shifted; suddenly blushing, he dropped the coat that had been resting over his shoulder and nodded, his jaw working back and forth before he blurted out, “Yes. What she said. What we have is strong, and what I feel is … Well, it’s also strong. I didn’t want to admit it to myself or anyone else but it’s probably obvious.”
The tauren helped Taryndrella to her feet, and let the dryad lean on her for support while she finished drying her tears. With the arguing stopped, she seemed much calmer.
“What’s obvious?” Galena barely paid attention to the boy, more worried about the sacred creature she had sworn to protect.
“That—that I have a crush on her.”
Taryndrella gasped as if struck. “Aramar! You would not! You would never hurt me!”
“What? I— Oh. I …”
Galena snorted softly, bewildered. Were all human boys this ridiculous? She patted Drella lightly on the back. “It means he likes you, you know, romantically. Like when his people marry.”
“I didn’t say that!” Aramar shouted, now so red it looked as if his head might burst.
“Love,” Galena said, wise. “He means love.”
“I didn’t say that, either!” He tossed his hands in the air, all but feral with frustration. Then he emerged from his tantrum, smoothing back his hair, taking a deep breath before saying, “I just feel strongly for her. And yes, in a … in a more-than-friends way. Is that so weird? We have this connection, I mean, I don’t even know what to call it.”
At that, the dryad pushed Galena away with a soft smile as she glided toward the boy. She took his shoulders in her hands and squeezed, then leaned down and bumped her forehead with his. He went completely still, and Galena wished she could disappear rather than watch their exchange.
“Of course I love you, Aramar. Nothing will ever change that. But it is not married people kind of love. It is … Well, it is like when you see the most perfect duck in the world, and you just want to hold that duck forever, and tell it how wonderful and glossy and good it is. But that duck is not yours, and it will thrive on its own, so you let the duck go and love it from afar, loving the way it glides and grows. Does that make sense?”
The boy groaned. “Not really.”
Taryndrella pulled back from him, touching him gently on the cheek. “How I was born, when I was born, it made me choose you, but now I choose you every day, as my friend, as my companion, as my equal. We are on a journey together, but it will not end the way you want it to. I do not even know if it could. I am just … me! Drella! And I do not know if me—Drella—can even know romance.”
“I get it,” Aramar said, nodding. “It’s … fine. Really. It was a stupid thing to say, anyway.”
“No, it was not,” Drella said seriously. “It was honest! And Thalyss always told me that being honest is never bad.”
The boy ambled away, back to the ram, picking up his coat and his pack and sighing. Galena had no idea what to say, and the dryad simply smiled, no doubt certain she had said all the right things, but Galena wasn’t so sure. She almost wished she might have known the boy sooner, and told him, when it became obvious, that a dryad would never have that kind of connection to anyone, human or otherwise. But that was a thing only druids could know, and not a boy who saw only a kind, lovely girl with bright eyes and flowers in her hair.
“Are you …” But she had no idea what to say.
Aramar pulled on his coat and gave them both a chuckling half smile. “Yes. I’m fine, I promise. Now can we push on? By the Light, I’d rather be speared to death by tauren scouts than go through that again.”
“Do not charge off,” Galena said to his back. “The path ahead is choked with webs; there could be spiders lurking.”
“Great.” Aram sighed. “Spiders. My favorite.” He shuddered, already thinking he could feel spindly legs crawling up his arms. Why did it have to be spiders? Well, he thought, anything was better than staying there and dwelling on that rejection a moment longer.
“ARAMAR THORNE, I SWEAR BY EVERY FISH IN THE SEA, WHEN I FIND YOU, I WILL GUT YOU MYSELF.”
The timbers of the inn shook from Makasa’s rage. She had torn the little room she shared with Aramar apart, but not a single trace of him remained.
Hackle, timid for once, shuffled into the doorway, paws knitted together. “Aram, Drella, druid gone. Hackle sniff. North smell right.”
“Then we go north”—Makasa grunted, pulling on her doublet—“and we go north now. Find Murky. I don’t want to waste another second.”
The old druid complained, of course, as if her brother leaving in the middle of the night with nary a word was her fault. And maybe it was—maybe she should’ve heard him sneaking away—but it was still his dumb idea and not hers. Hackle and Murky had her back, flanking her as they stalked through the outpost and toward the northern archway leading into the hills.
“Galena is gone, too,” Master Thal’darah was saying, following them, his hair and beard disheveled. “Please … If you find her, make certain she is safe, that she makes it back to us!”
The tauren was the last thing on Makasa’s mind, but she puffed out a sigh, pausing briefly before leaving. “I’ll tell her what you said. Maybe if we get lucky, they’re just having a picnic somewhere.”
“Hackle no think so.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, hefting her harpoon and setting out north. “Makasa no think so, either.”
There were no drakes or gouts of fire to contend with, and they made good time. Hackle proved invaluable, his nose taking them on the path north that turned east and then back south, heading toward the Northwatch Expedition Base. Makasa could only imagine what Aram was thinking, and a twinge in her gut told her to leave room for mercy, that maybe, just maybe, he had a good reason. Or maybe something nefarious had happened. Maybe they hadn’t left of their own accord, but had been kidnapped.
They picked up the trail once more in the forest outside Webwinder Path, after discovering the remains of a strange barrier of tree limbs all knit together. A few broken spearheads and carve marks told her that tauren braves had tried to cut through.
“They’re not much for climbing,” she said, launching up onto the barrier with ease, “but these feet and hands have gone up and down masts too many times to count. Here!”
When Makasa reached the top, she swung one leg over, steadying herself, then lowered her chain, giving something for Hackle to grab on to. Murky climbed readily onto his back, and then she helped hoist them up, Hackle using his feet to claw into the wood and make it an easier ascent. On the other side, the gnoll again found the signs of the dryad, human, and tauren. Makasa didn’t like the look of the path ahead, the trees denser, thick with shadows, and worse, Hackle smelled something more than just their friends.
“Spider,” he said with a grunt. “Many spiders. Be ready for fight, or end up dinner for big bug. Big, big bug.”
“Mrky prrgle tk, nk kerlug!” The little murloc took out his spear, jabbing it at the air.
“Eyes open. I don’t want any surprises. We’re losing daylight and I don’t imagine our chances against spiders will be any better in the dark. Come on.”
Makasa didn’t expect to hand over leadership duties to Hackle, but the gnoll raced ahead, nose in the air, choosing a path through the increasingly webby forest, zigging and zagging so much that it was almost dizzying. Daylight indeed began to dwindle. Through the forest and above the jagged tops of the hills, Makasa watched the sky turn dark blue and then purple, livid orange streaks stretching over the mountains until she had to squint to see the way ahead.
Hackle slowed, his paws clenching as he glanced this way and that.
“Lrkna murg?” Murky whispered.
Makasa looked down at the murloc, who stared back with his head tipped to the side in inquiry.
“No, no stop,” Hackle replied sharply. “You tired? We carry. No stop. No look up, either.”
“What?” Maka
sa swept down and picked up the exhausted murloc. His little legs were far shorter than theirs, and it was no surprise that he tired out before the others.
“No look up,” Hackle said again, picking his way through the trees. Somehow, Makasa could sense that they were far off the well-traveled road.
To their right, she spotted something white and shiny hanging between two large branches. By then, she had grown accustomed to the unsettling sight of the cobwebs slung between rocks and over cave mouths, but this looked different. The white object, as large as a human child, twisted in the faint breeze.
“What is that?” she hissed.
“No look.” Hackle grunted. “No ask. Fast now, we go.”
They ran, Murky bouncing on her shoulders, his spear banging into her arm as they raced through the densely clustered trees. Makasa noted more of those odd white oblong shapes dangling on webs as thick as rope, and each one made another hair stand up on her neck. One seemed to pulse as they went by, and she could swear she heard a strangled sound coming from inside. What if Aramar and the others had gone this same way and met with a gruesome end? She shivered. There could be rabbits or birds or even bigger things in those hanging cocoons. She considered going back, slicing one open, just in case Aramar really was hidden inside, suffocating and helpless.
“Wait,” Makasa said softly, trying to catch up to Hackle. He had the build and feet made for quick forest travel, and it was a challenge to meet his swift pace.
“No stop. Only run!”
“Hackle! What if our friends are inside those things? We should check—”
“No!”
But Makasa slowed down, trying to see one of the cocoons in the darkness, glancing behind to make sure they hadn’t amassed any followers. There was nothing there, just the light wind rattling the trees and the quickly fading sunlight. She aimed her harpoon and swung, slicing open one of the thick, slimy coverings on the nearest cocoon. It was more difficult to cut than she expected, and the feeling of it made her want to gag. A slight gap opened up in the covering, and inside she saw nothing but the gleaming bone of a skull, an empty eye socket staring back.
“Hackle no smell friends! Run! Run! No look up!”
The gnoll had circled back to collect her, stealing her away before the shriek of surprise could escape her lips. She hadn’t expected to find a skeleton inside, and a cold, horrible chill ran down her spine.
She had to trust Hackle. If the gnoll said he didn’t smell Aram and Drella, then she would just have to put her faith in his snout. Not her first choice, but they were down to few options. Run and never look back seemed suddenly like the wisest plan.
“Urka! Urka urka urka!”
Murky started to whisper in a panic, smacking the top of Makasa’s head harder and harder, as if her skull was his own personal bongo.
“Stop! Stop that! What is he saying, Hackle?”
A fine strand of web touched her face, and she gasped, pawing at it blindly, feeling it grasp at her fingers, unbelievably sticky.
“He say up. Lots of time he say up. No listen, only run.”
Hackle grabbed her arm again, pulling, but the murloc continued hitting her on the head until she cursed and reached up to smack him back.
“Urka urka urka urka!”
Makasa gave in, ignoring Hackle and glancing skyward to see what had the murloc in such a frenzy. The ice running down her spine froze her into place, sheer terror rooting her to the spot. The forest around them was nothing compared to the intricate forest above, a labyrinth of webs formed into tunnels and loops, a veritable fortress of glittering ivory strands. On silent feet, hundreds of spiders waited, eyes glowing red in the coming darkness. And closer, just above them, descended the biggest, hairiest spider Makasa had ever seen. It was the size of a horse, and plunging swiftly toward their heads.
“Murky!” She called out to him just as the spider’s pulsing belly came into striking distance. The close, grasping legs were near enough for her to feel the bristly hairs.
Murky screamed, and Makasa ducked, but it was too late. They were going to be pulled up into the horror of webs and hungry spiders above.
Not again, she thought. I am not being picked up by another bloody monster.
The murloc must have read her mind, reacting in a flash, taking his little spear and shoving it up into the spider’s abdomen. It gave a deafening shriek, eyes brighter, a furious crimson, its legs flailing hard.
Murky stabbed it over and over, but its scream of pain had alerted the others.
Makasa clamped her hands down on the murloc’s tiny legs, holding him fast, and ran, bolting across the sticky forest floor, listening to the sound of a thousand hungry spiders hurrying to make them their feast.
“Good job, Murky!” she called, amazed at what she’d just said. Who’d have ever thought I’d be relying on a murloc to save us from a monster? “Now hold on tight, and don’t look up!”
The sun had come out to shine its light on the banners of the Northwatch Expedition Base Camp, and they glowed as brightly as beacons cutting through a storm. The pennants planted there snapped and bounced, a strong wind starting from the south.
“It’ll rain soon,” Galena said, raising her short muzzle into the air. They had diverted off the road, going east off the main path to avoid a tauren patrol. Galena told them the Krom’gar tauren might give her a chance to pass but would certainly give a human and a dryad trouble. Krom’gar was the Horde’s stronghold in the area, after all.
“Those are Northwatch banners,” Aram replied, pointing. “See? It will be a climb, but maybe we can outrun the storm.”
Drella took up the rear, taking her time, collecting flowers and herbs as she went to make crowns for both him and Galena. As much as Aram would have preferred to travel alone or just with the dryad, he couldn’t deny that the tauren druid was useful. She used her druid abilities to reach out to nature and find the safest places when they camped overnight, keeping the creepy-crawlies in the dark at bay, and her sense for weather was so keen it was almost magical. Drella, while sweet and powerful in her own way, was also easily distracted.
It was a relief that she had not brought up his crush again. The benefit, he realized, of fancying a dryad was that they did not react in predictable ways. She did not seem shy or embarrassed, but her same happy, confident self. Maybe he should have expected that. For his part, Aram still felt his face grow hot whenever she glanced at him, but the mortifying feeling was passing, and he even managed to hold her gaze now and then. Life would move on, he thought, and eventually he would understand the duck thing she had said. It was tempting to grasp onto the idea of being “a perfect duck” to her, but he knew she hadn’t meant it in the way he wanted.
He distracted himself by watching Galena work her druidic magic.
“How do you know how to do all of this?” Aram asked. “I thought you were mostly just an apprentice, stuck in Feralas and then at the Overlook.”
She shot him a steely glance. “I may be just an apprentice, human, but I’ve trained for this all my life.” Here she indicated the dryad behind them. “Nature is to be protected, cherished, and creatures like Taryndrella are to be guarded at all costs. I might not have been sailing the high seas or fighting ogres, but the CCAMP is invaluable. The combined wisdom of centuries of druid knowledge about the wilds!”
Aram frowned. “The cee-cee-ay-em-pee?” he asked.
“The Cenarion Circle Advanced Mountaineering Pamphlet. Every acolyte and apprentice is issued a pamphlet when they join the Circle.” Galena unhitched the small, weathered pack from her furry shoulder and dug inside, bringing up a tattered and water-stained volume. “I would let you look, but it’s only for us druids.”
“Right,” Aram murmured.
“It teaches you how to anticipate the weather and sense dangerous animals and dark entities. There’s an entire section on shielding a fire from the rain, and guides for edible plants and poisonous ones!” Galena began pointing at the various shrubs c
lustered under the trees as they passed. “That’s edible if you boil it. That one? No. And that one? That will make you vomit for days.”
He had never heard anyone sound so giddy about throwing up.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said with a snort. “You’ve been waiting for something like this, haven’t you?”
The tauren glanced away, shoving the pamphlet back into her bag. “I admit, it beats powdering dried berries all day. Most druids will never meet someone like Taryndrella. It’s exciting, yes, but it’s also a big responsibility.”
“I’ll protect her, too, you know.”
Galena nodded, pausing to lick her finger and stick it up in the air, testing the wind. “I know. I can tell you really care about her.”
Groaning, Aram shook his head. “We’ve been over this—”
“I’m not teasing you,” Galena said, solemn. Her smile faded more as her pointed ears twitched and she leaned into the breeze. “Something is strange …”
“Hello again, friends!” Taryndrella caught up to them, giving them each a flower crown fragrant with herbs. “Is it not a beautiful day? And so thrilling! We are going to meet Aram’s uncle! We are so lucky.”
Aram normally would have thanked her for the gift, but he concentrated on Galena, watching as the tauren’s ears flicked again. “What is it?” he asked.
“Another Krom’gar patrol, and they’re not far,” she replied. “We should hurry. If the rain starts, it will slow us down on an uphill climb, and I doubt they’re friendly with the Alliance posted at the base.”
“We could try talking to them,” the dryad suggested, linking arms with Galena.
“Not this time. I mean, I know I didn’t let you do it with the drakes, either, but I promise it will be the right time eventually,” Aram said, keeping close to the shallow caves pocking the mountainside. “We shouldn’t waste more time in the valley.”
The Shining Blade Page 8