Chương 46

Traps are meant to be sprung. Leaving Adhira and the merchants in the cave, Harker followed Stillwater out through the bandit encampment and into the forest. It was far darker than before, save for the occasional flash of lightning across the thick clouds. Rain hadn't yet started to fall but it threatened heavily as the wind blew in gusts heavy enough to bend the trees.

"Where are they?" Harker hissed, barely above the breeze. Stillwater scurried forward, his rotund body effortlessly slipping between shrubs and ferns.

"See for yourself." Beneath the thick canopy, Harker looked up the switchback trail that led to the main path. At first he saw little but waving trees, but the bright flashes of lightning illuminated the stark brilliance of two pale white cloaks. Harker ducked lower, putting ferns between himself and the trail.

"How'd they find me? I haven't vented the Sea in days."

"There's always more than one way to hunt down prey." Stillwater bared his teeth into the dark.

"I got close. They're carrying scraps of blue cloth."

"Blue—" Harker clenched his jaw. He owned nothing blue, but Adhira did…and her cloak was torn in several places.

"They're tracking her." Stillwater nodded.

"They'll make their way down here soon enough. Best get moving." Harker considered the mercenaries as they made their way down the trail.

"You said they killed the old bandit?"

"Shot him with a full quiver from a hundred yards away." Stillwater chuckled.

"The wrinkled human made the funniest noises."

"Show me." Stillwater's good mood vanished.

"You wanna get closer? That's not the move, human. This valley's a leviathan's maw; you don't wanna be here when it snaps shut."

"I've run enough."

"Idiotic! How can you expect me to pay off my debt if you keep ignoring my sage counsel?" Harker pulled the spool of vine from his right hip and his dagger from the left. With several deft motions he tied a bowline knot—a favorite knot of his and one that wouldn't easily slip free. He looped it through the ring pommel of his blue dagger and tightened it.

"This counted as your second debt. Can't you feel it?"

"Of course I can! But it doesn't do me much good if you die before I resolve the last one!" Harker smirked.

"I knew you cared." Stillwater rounded on Harker and his claws twitched like he wanted to seize his throat. Yet the little Gilken mastered himself, instead smoothing down his waistcoat and taking a deep breath.

"You're as foul as any Courtier, only worse—you're earnest. Fah!" Harker watched the ridge. The white cloaks were moving at a steady pace.

"The body. I don't have much time."

"Fine." Stillwater led him nearer the steep base of the switchback. A knot of trees clung close there, many of them already bearing palm-sized leaves, and the rest clutching together like knuckles in an old fist. There, amid the exposed roots, was a broken body. Harker recognized the lean form, though the bandit leader lacked the grace he'd demonstrated in life. What he didn't lack were arrows—at least fifteen stuck from the man's body, several of which were snapped during his fall.

Harker reached out and tore one of them free. They boasted heavy shafts and arrowheads with brutal, twisted points.

"Strange tips. Made of something I don't recognize."

"That's reservoir bone." He whistled.

"Really."

"It'll cut through Sea-touched hide easily enough…or refined flesh. These mercenaries of yours aren't third rate bandits or maddened beasts, human. They're predators." Harker looked up.

"Guess you'll have to watch my back." Stillwater snarled. Zeph stared down into the valley. He spat. Everything had gone wrong since they'd landed on this accursed isle. Friends had perished, falling to the Stitcher and his monstrosities back in Vale. After that, even more of the company was separated, set to hunt the disgusting thing and its creations. Zeph couldn't argue with that decision after the events up north, but it soured him to think that the glory of the Stitcher's defeat would belong to someone else.

The rest of them were spread across the drowning countryside looking for traces of that hayseed boy. A boy that was more like a ghost than a person. They had followed traces of him south through Haver Hill, only to have him vanish beyond its paltry walls. The captain himself led the team scouring every inch of the island for some sign of the boy. Zeph still didn't know what was so important about finding him and didn't much care. It was enough that Captain Vell needed him alive.

It was important work, but not even that was left to Zeph. Instead, he had to hunt down the little noble girl. He grunted, staring out over the edge of the trail. A sea of trees washed up against the heavy ring of high cliffs, but he could make out little else. The storm had darkened things almost as much as nightfall and the brief flashes of lightning did more to conceal than reveal.

"You sure she's in there?" he asked.

"Hounds don't lie," Saam said.

"My Bargie can track a fox from an island away." Zeph sneered uphill. His partner's hound was tied to a tree just on the other side of the ridge, and he preferred it that way. The beast smelled more foul than Saam, and the man hadn't bathed in two weeks.

"Stop wasting time." Saam stomped down the path, one hand trailing along the trees at the edge.

"Captain said we need to bring her in alive, and that'll be a chore to get done before this storm breaks. She's supposed to be powerful."

"She had a veilguard," Zeph said, dismissively.

"No one worth their salt has a babysitter."

"Veilguard don't follow just anyone, Zeph."

"They'll follow whoever's got the coin."

"You joined outta Septris, right?" Saam said, with a smirk on his stupid bearded face.

"You ain't been around the southlands. Those nobles don't work like real folk." Zeph checked his arrows.

"I've got six more Aberrant points here that got a different argument. Give me a clean shot and I'll show you just how real she is."

"Leave that up to the captain, though I can't say he'd be too mad. She is the only one who knows what we're after. Our employer won't like her wagging her chin."

"Then I'm sure I wouldn't get much of a tongue lashing If my hand were to slip." Saam laughed.

"I don't suppose you would." The switchback trail meandered down the cliff face, and the bottom of the valley creeped upward as the minutes drew long. Zeph counted his arrows again, sucking at his teeth. He'd wasted so many on that old bandit. He'd been fast and almost impossible to pin down, but he'd fallen just the same. But the way his life had been shaping up recently, Zeph didn't doubt that the noble girl would be a similar pain to capture. If he had a clean shot, one arrow would do it.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Zeph patted the sword at his side. If not, he'd have to rely on more up close work.

"You think that old man told the truth about the Aberrants down there?" Saam chuckled.

"Now, when did you last see a bandit tell the truth? Could be he was just trying to scare us off the trail." Zeph grunted in vague agreement. Still, he didn't like the way the trees were moving as the storm drew closer. Anything could be hiding in them. Saam squinted.

"I see metal." A quick flash of it caught the fading light and the pair of them slowed on the trail. They watched carefully, yet even as they exited the switchback and started walking through the forest at the valley's bottom, the glimmer didn't resurface. Until it did. A piece of metal was hung from the tree strap of leather. It twisted in a wind, throwing off a dull flash every few seconds. Zeph snapped it free. It looked to be a piece of armor that had been broken apart.

"Looks like a distraction," Saam said. The underbrush rustled. A small creature, something scurried past them. Zeph reached for his sword, but Saam was faster.

"First Depth—Crush." Water flood flooded out through his stomping foot, crushing a swath of underbrush, more than seven feet across, catching nothing more than vegetation.

"Fast critters around here."

"Was that necessary? We're supposed to be quiet." Saam shrugged.

"It touched my leg."

"You idiot—" Something pinched Zeph's neck. He flinched, lifting his hand to probe at the dull sensation… and his fingers came back wet. He was bleeding. It wasn't more than a few drops, but he spun about, hunting for the cause. The world tilted as he did so, swimming slowly in his wake. Poison! Zeph could feel it burning just under his skin, curling through his blood like a serpent made of pale fire. It coiled around his throat for a bare instant before it dissipated into streamers of mere warmth.

Zeph put a hand to his throat, but the pain and disorientation was already gone.

"Saam! Something—" Saam shouted and swung his warhammer. It crashed through a tree, breaking a heavy piece out of the trunk.

"It got me too! I think I saw a vine!"

"Depths!" Zeph had run afoul of the flora on this island too many times to underestimate it.

"Avoid the trees!" The pair moved, back to back, hands close to their weapons. Branches shifted in a breeze and Zeph drew his side sword. It moved again and he slashed through it entirely. Twigs fell to the ground. No vines.

"Move through slowly," Saam said, hands adjusting on his hammer.

"I saw something lashing but…it's retreated."

"Too afraid of us." Zeph rolled his neck. The effects of the attack were already gone—it couldn't withstand their refinement.

"First Depth is more than this region's seen in centuries. A true tribulation would shatter every reservoir for miles." No mere plant could handle them. They pressed forward, entering the tangled forest and heavy undergrowth with weapons bared and teeth gritted. The flashes of lightning cut the path into stark slices of silver-drenched shadow while the wind tousled the empty canopy. There were no more scurrying creatures or stinging vines, but that did not mean there weren't rats in the woods.

Saam reached out, tapping Zeph on the shoulder.

"Movement. Southwest." Zeph spotted it.

"East as well." Without another word, the two of them split. Zeph crept to the east, letting his Water well up around his feet and the sound of his footsteps faded into nonexistence. His Talent—Howl—could rage but it could also whisper. A distinction he discovered upon Descending. He slipped through the trees, sword leading the way. Ahead, the branches shook violently, far more than the winds could account for without aid. Yet when Zeph entered the clearing there was no sign of anyone…

only a thick branch just barely swaying. A vine was tied around it and it hung limp all the way to the ground. Zeph leaned down, using his sword to pick up the edge of the vine.

"What is this?" Soft claws scampered behind him. Zeph spun, sword slicing through the ferns, but whatever it was fled further into the underbrush. Someone screamed. Zeph took off, stealth forgotten, tracing back the way he'd come. Ahead, he saw Saam stumble forward, clutching at where his shoulder met his neck—he'd been shot. The man snapped off the shaft of the arrow, but his wound bled fiercely.

"Saam! Where's the enemy?" The big man clamped one of his thick hands over his shoulder and neck.

"Trees. South." Zeph spun, already reaching for his own bow when another arrow slung from the shadows.

"First Depth—Howl!" Water rushed, manifesting from his throat in a rippling wave of howling screams. The arrow was thrown aside, burying itself in the dirt. Zeph stood tall, hair flowing in the stormwinds.

"You'll not kill us so easily!" He didn't spot the second arrow. It took him in the chest. His chainmail was punched clean through and Zeph gave a surprised exhale that set him stumbling backward for cover. A third arrow followed, though this one missed both of them. Zeph gasped, the pain far more intense than he'd felt in quite a while. He looked down shakily at the arrow. It's… in me? Normal arrows couldn't penetrate a First Depth Talent's skin, let alone after puncturing chainmail on top of it.

But Zeph recognized the shafts and fletching alike. He yanked it free with a snarl.

"These are my arrows!" Sure enough, the Aberrant tip was still intact. He knew every curve of its spiraled shape—he'd commissioned them himself. More arrows shot at them, each one from a different angle. None made contact with either of the men, but the constant fire was enough to sour Zeph's belly. There has to be at least five men out there. How much ammunition do they have? A deep burning throbbed from the wound. It coiled through his chest and throat like fire given life.

It was just like the vine that had attacked them, and already he could feel his tributaries scorch.

"Bandages!" Zeph dodged from cover to cover, trying to get to Saam. Before he could take three paces, however, nother arrow ripped for his gut.

"First Depth—Howl!" Another blast of sound ripped forward, fouling the shot…only to force Zeph to double over in pain. That burning in his tributaries only intensified, and it spiked through his throat Lock like a hot knife. He fell down, landing a few feet from Saam.

"This poison—! It's affecting my Talent!" His companion grunted, already finding his feet.

"We can't waste time here, then. On me. They're in the cavern!" The two of them rushed forward, zigzagging through the trees as a few more arrows peppered their approach. None met their mark, however, and soon Zeph and Saam both reached the mouth of the cave. Hammer held outward, Saam rushed in. Glass shattered. The already dark evening changed as liquid shadow enveloped the world. Zeph stumbled to a halt, unable to see anything, even his own hands.

He pulled on his Talent, but while Howl was eager to respond, his throat Lock was clenched tighter than a merchant's purse. He diverted the Water instead, sending it rushing through the heels of his boots. A ring of dirt kicked up around them, a gust that did little to banish the inky shadows that drenched them all. Saam cursed, his armor jangling in an unmistakable, heavy impact.

"My legs! It's got my legs!" Zeph spun toward his friend, only a few steps ahead of where he stood.

"What is it? Tell me!"

"Trap!" The air shifted and Zeph poured his Talent outward, coiling it around his swinging sword. Sound rang from its metal edge like a bell, a crash that grew immensely when he encountered opposition steel. Zeph pressed forward, hurling the enemy's weapon back. Sound filtered back, rebounding off the cavern walls in strange ways. To Zeph, the world became a sea of vibrating surfaces. He could almost see Saam where he struggled, knee deep in a foul, toothed jaw.

He could also make out the faintest of wires further in. A tripline.

"Fool," he called into the dark. He needed the enemy to stop thinking.

"You think you can capture the Grim Company with some second rate shadows and cheap triplines?"

"No." Zeph jerked back, sword slashing toward the sound. He hit nothing but air.

"I have no intention of capturing you." Zeph cried out, a boot driven into his chest. It didn't hurt—his armor prevented that—but rage spiked his veins like a drug.

"You arrogant—!" Click. Zeph looked down but needn't have bothered. He saw nothing—and felt everything. A spike launched out of the earth where it had been buried, hurled upward by the tension of a massive spring. It sheared across his tunic, cutting it free the same as the rings of chainmail that went pinging across the cavern. These bandits…! Zeph struggled forward, only to have two more spikes tear up ward, the second one lodging into Zeph's gut. The dark shrouded them all. He couldn't see.

He could barely stand. Yet for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of a toothy maw and glowing yellow eyes.

"Goodbye, human."