Chương 65: Zhadin's Gift

Their party now was mercifully small. Cirn was the official leader of the party and would be the one with political weight to throw around. She, Zakam, Anvanil, and Jul would be setting up in the villages they would travel to, and in return they would provide their strength during any surges. The hunters would check in to trade information, give their assistance every few days, and let the other four know when they were ready to move on.

Lord Prince Ranin had already left to deal with Lord Norland, thank the gods, letting the lord know that Athereon would be checking in on his towns and villages to train with their hunters, assisting as best they could. Meaning Squirt wouldn't be beholden to anyone's damn schedule but her own. She'd check on the villages on the first day, following Jul around while he and Zakam spoke to the folk at the village and figured out what issues they were facing, what their local pests were, and so forth.

She would go out, survey the lands, killing as she went while mapping out treebeds and other such problem areas for the soldiers to take care of under Ranin's command. Anvanil would communicate magically with Ranin and vice versa, meaning every few days he could keep the man updated on what issues they faced and coordinate any of the rituals with the hunters to see what materials they might be able to salvage.

She had hit him several times over the head when the plan for this came together and Anvanil had offered the messaging spell as an option, meaning they could have done it this way from the beginning (minus Jul). Only the asshole lord prince that he was, he'd not asked her opinion on it once, assuming he had it all in hand on his own. His only defense had been that they had been supposed to ship out from Riverlands Keep days before, but the lady had continuously delayed them.

She'd hit him upside the head again when she asked how she was supposed to magically lead him to treebeds she didn't know about when she wasn't allowed to go far enough away from the Keep to find them. He'd thought it obvious that the Keep would have maps of them, which is how the lady had continuously delayed him. Idiot. Several of them also had beacons for Jezalin and Lord Prince Ranin since none of them trusted that Squirt would call for help on her own, to her perpetual annoyance.

The beacon for Lord Prince Ranin was to request military assistance, the other for emergency healing. The summer heat was scorching, and like most riders, Squirt chose not to forgo pants and instead forgo sleeves or a shirt, depending, often leaving her in a breastband and bracers to protect her arms from her archery. She was hardly the only one, as fey were not particularly prudish in general. Still, this meant two things practically.

Often it was too hot to wear a cape and hood, making it difficult to hide the glowing mark on her forehead. Second, her various scars were on full display. So, on the first day of their departure, as the sun reached its zenith, Squirt removed her top like she had every day for the last week. Only this time, Qzi was riding beside her.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness, and when her eyes flickered to his, she was momentarily stunned to see the heat in his gaze as he traced each scar with his eyes like he was planning on doing it with his tongue. She snapped, "Fuck off," and rode ahead to find herself someone else to ride next to as she raged about the audacity. Furious. Yes. She was furious. Furiously… blushing. Gods damnit, he was hardly the first fetishist she'd met.

They always gave her the same creepy, desiring look of wanting to conquer— But his desire hadn't been that. It hadn't made her skin crawl or made bile rise. Nope. Even worse. It'd been hot as fuck, and nope, she wasn't going down that road. Nope. Of all the choices, the redcap was definitely the worst idea of them. Odd, though. Having choices. Determined to never examine herself any further than that, she typically chose Zakam for her riding partner for one reason and one reason only. The man was as dull as stone.

It wasn't just that he didn't speak, he also just didn't do much thinking. Having a head so blessedly empty meant he didn't mind that hers constantly buzzed. She continued to practice her archery daily from the saddle, picking targets as they rode, firing, then grabbing the arrow as she passed by to practice the acrobatics in the saddle. Then she'd repeat the exercise with either the recurved longbow or the standard short bow she'd gotten for as long as she could.

She was already almost good enough with the short bow to replace her original one, though she did mourn that the standard shortbow was almost as tall as she was, meaning it didn't have the maneuverability in the underbrush that her original did. Over her practice, she also eventually realized that while the saddle bracers had their uses, it was easier to shoot while standing in the stirrups rather than while bouncing attached to the seat.

They rarely saw Zhadin during the day as they had no mount, instead traveling through the shadow plane as was more comfortable for their people. At night, they always joined for dinner and took a shift for night watch. Three days passed relatively peacefully. But then. Squirt's old nemesis was back. The raft. She hated it so damn much.

Her shoulders slowly reached towards her ears as she stood there, watching Cirn negotiate with the riverside village to pay their way while she was forced to approach the edge of the water. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Was it just her, or was this part of the river even bigger and darker than the one she'd crossed a few weeks back— A tendril brushed passed her cheek.

In the morning light, there were plenty of shadows cast on Squirt by the others, and she doubted any of them noticed. A whisper in her ear spoke, "Say the word, and I will take you." The tendril disappeared. She scowled. She wasn't afraid. It was just water and— Gods, that raft looked even creakier than the last—were those boards going to snap under Zakam's massive weight? What about his steed? That thing was at least five times his size, and— Fuck this. They could probably all swim.

Squirt had never learned, because why would a pixie ever bother? If they were splashing and began to drown, they'd just pull their wings out and fly out, since their wings were magical constructs and not hindered by water. She hadn't come this far to die by drowning. She gave Mole the command to stay with the group before whispering under her breath, "Zha—" She didn't even finish their name. She sucked in a breath as the tendrils pulled her into and through shadow.

She counted the seconds to keep herself focused until the colors burst back into life and she gasped in air. Gods. So much less terrifying. She had no idea how fey could stand those things.

"I have made you something." She stiffened. Then slowly turned to give the shadowfell a wary glare. They had never stated an interest directly other than that one comment on gifts, and now she was half expecting more body parts. They tilted their head with a gesture just off enough to be nerve-wracking.

"It has taken time to get right. I need nothing. It is freely offered in exchange for what you have already provided instead of offering gratitude." The words were candid enough that some of the tension abruptly made way for curiosity. Not all of the tension, but some. The shadow tendrils of their lower half shifted like a writhing mass up and then over their held out hands before retreating back down. As they moved, they slowly revealing a bow, already strung and ready for her.

It was the same size as her original bow, only much like the pest's gift, it was recurved. Studying it in the light of the day, she could see that rather than one solid piece of wood, there were multiple layers to it. Unlike the other, much bigger recurve, the materials seemed to be of different types based on what she could see, though it came together in a smoothly cohesive way.

They demonstrated unstringing it, and to her astonishment, it curved so far back it made a rounded shape opposite of the strung direction. Then they restrung it and passed it to her.

"I have learned much about the beasts thanks to you. I look forward to learning much more." A large bundle of appropriately sized arrows appeared next, and they held it out to her. As soon as she accepted it, they then disappeared. Stunned by the entire exchange, Squirt simply stood there, holding the bundle of arrows out in front of her with one hand and the bow with her other until the others were halfway across the river, staring at where Zhadin had disappeared.

Then her eyes dropped to the bow, setting the bundle of arrows down to scan over it. Taking an arrow out of the bundle, she loaded it into the right sided arrow rest carved into the shape of the bow above the grip, making it a more stable surface than her hand in combat. Picking a target, she pulled back and took aim. The draw strength was comparable to the standard short bow, but it was almost a foot shorter—an impressive feat for such a small thing. She loosed the arrow, falling in love as soon as she did.

It sailed through the air with ease, puncturing the leaf she had aimed for. The grip was more akin to the bow the pest had given her, only after a couple of shots it was clear it didn't need the same snap of her wrist as the arrow passed over it. And once the others reached the other side and she jumped back into Mole's saddle, something else occurred to her. With the arrow shelf and the smaller size, this bow was perfect for the pair of them.

For the rest of the trip, she couldn't decide whether the gift, with all of its perfect little details that tailored it not just to her size, but her style of combat and her strengths as a fighter, terrified her or flustered her more. Telos stared at the setting sun, her mind empty with exhausted grief. It hurt a little less each time she saw Tobias, though each brief encounter was more awkward than the last. Perhaps that's why it helped. Curling up on the clouded bed, she reminisced over how they met.

How Tobias had been the first to see her as her, and not as one of the most powerful mages in the country. How he never failed to smile. How easy he had made it to smile back. It was the thing she missed the most. Smiling. Her eyes scanned over the horizon, noting with detached assessment once again that cloud weaving afforded the best views in the world. Not even that brought joy to her, anymore. While she hadn't cried in weeks, she was listless. Restless.

Without joy, there was no real interest in anything at all. Instead, she had buried herself in her duty, defending the border. Only there had been no ships in days. Weeks, even. She wasn't keeping track of the days. Not when there was no point to it. Nodding off while playing sentry, a tingle in her senses brought her attention to the far north end of the barrier. Too far for her to sense well.

With a thought and a shift of her position, she released the anchor point of her haven, using a burst of wind magic to speed off north, farther, faster, hoping she could get there in time— By the time she was close enough to engage magic sense, she was breathless, sweat dripping down her brow and limbs trembling. Shoving all of that down, she closed her eyes, casting her magic out in a pulse to find— There it was. A Skyian airship. The blood drained from her face.

This was no decrepit puttering machine barely able to make the journey. No—this was a fully decked out warship, radiating enough power to drop her heart into her stomach. She swallowed. If this ship charged the barrier, she would not be able to hold the line. Minutes passed as she debated running to Lord Everwinter or attempting to block the ship's entry point, minutes where she weighed statistics and strategy against pure, blind determination when the obvious finally broke through her spiral.

The ship wasn't entering Everwinter. It was passing it. Stunned, she monitored the ship as closely as she dared, reading the magical signature and noting that it was warded not by elemental magic as was common in Skye, but by shadow magic. Not powered, simply warded. Protected. By enough shadow magic to devastate an entire territory. Numbers ran through her mind.

Equations and calculations as she tried to quantify the scope of the magic involved, ending at the conclusion that whoever was aboard that ship easily outclassed her in power. Her. The great archmagis Telos, the youngest with the title, outclassed. As she scryed, the hair on the back of her neck pricked. It was all the warning she got.

With the decisive speed of a predator poised to strike, the shadow magic snapped out at her own, ripping at her power, at the shields she had overlaid onto Lord Everwinter's territorial boundaries, consuming the magic connected to her. She gasped, cutting off the spell before it could consume her as well, throwing herself back onto the pillows of thickened cloud and gulping down air. Sweat soaked through her clothes, leaving her shivering at the high altitude.

The ship continued along its journey, undisturbed by the encounter. Shivering and shaking, Telos wrapped her arms around herself, warming herself and watching the ship sail around the top of the mountains. No armada. No fanfare. It did not turn towards Everwinter for even a moment. It never intended to breech Everwinter. Telos waited until she was certain before she stood, preparing a flight spell after downing a mana potion. Exhausted as she was, she would need to sleep at Everwinter Keep tonight to recover.

In the darkness of night, she turned and leapt into the skies, flying at speed to Everwinter.