Chương 70: Kidnapped Squirt

That night, Squirt started nodding off over her bowl of soup. Seated further away from the group at the base of the treebed, she tucked herself in between the roots as Pakos stood guard. Wrapped in her cloak, she vaguely recognized something was wrong, but couldn't quite get the energy to even be upset about it. The next time she opened her eyes, she was laid out in front of a fire. A man was crouched before it, and he turned with an, "Oppsie, time for your dose. Back to slumber you go."

It didn't matter how much willpower she mustered. She could not move her body. She was trapped. Helpless. She panicked as he gently tilted her head back, feeding her something warm and savory with oddly gentle motions for a kidnapper. Her last thought was a white blur and his scream. Ranin was genuinely unsure if it was him failing in some way or another, or if she was just particularly kidnappable. He hadn't offered his tent because of the upsetting rumors last time, but now he was questioning that decision.

Lord Norland ducked into the tent, and almost desperately, Ranin asked, "Any news?" He shook his head.

"No." Shit. If this went on for any longer, the redcap or Zhadin were liable to go on a murderous rampage. She'd only been found missing a few hours ago, she was taken some time in the night— Gods, she was so tiny and light that she wouldn't even slow a kidnapper from having to carry her, would she?

A shout came from the clearing, and both men's attentions snapped in that direction just in time to see the six-tailed moon hound warp into nothingness, followed by a very angry redcap stabbing the ground with a dagger while shouting, "No, no, no, no, no, gods damnit!" Everyone in the clearing took a collective step back. Lord Prince Ranin blew out a breath of relief. Okay. If Her hound was with her, she'd be safe. He wouldn't let her die.

Which of course, only posed the question of how and why she'd been kidnapped. With a flick of his fingers, he put up a sound barrier, deciding he should have done that at the very beginning.

"Did you find out who?" The lord's expression darkened.

"Half of my hunters have never heard of Devcal and my Chief Huntress has decided to take a sabbatical. But two swear he was both real and had been here with them, only they don't know him well." Jul's words rang in Ranin's mind. The huntress believes that there's some other vector for attack than just dumped airships. The population is too uniformly high level. It indicates that whatever is being done here is being done all across Norland at a similar rate rather than just accidental bursts.

Right under the prideful bastard's very nose. From the expression on the man's face, he knew it, too. He'd been there for Jul's report. Though Ranin had been surprised that the fire fata, who was technically only a trainee, had inserted himself so easily into the conversation that Lord Norland didn't once question that he was there representing the hunters, and had asked him if he was the Great Athereon. He seethed out, "Do you see now why Athereon's identity was meant to be secret?

There are bounties on her placed by the Skyian king." Angrily the man growled out, "Forgive me, lord prince, for assuming your agenda when you told me that a greenling was the Great Athereon. Can she even cast spells?"

"I never called her a mage. You let rumor blind you and warp everything I said about her. I have never called her the Great Athereon—Athereon is simply the name I know her by. Most simply refer to her as Huntress. I can assure you that the tale I told of Riverlands is no rumor when I watched it crumble." Lord Norland dropped his eyes in apology. Ranin went back to pacing and resisting the urge to race off in a random direction on the hope that Victory would lead him through. Lobelia couldn't believe it.

For the first time in her life, the Hunt responded to her question. A lifetime of devotion spent just to hear that a nameless greenling was her chosen. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. And not Lobelia. Hadn't she served her goddess well? Loyally? Made the custom offerings and prayed regularly? She had been recognized enough to be given the title of Norland's Chief Huntress. Was that not enough for Her? But no.

That night, asleep in a tree away from the encampment, she was given a vision. A vision of one of the fringe hunters that she knew by name and feystone count alone handing a bowl of soup to the greenling. Her nodding off at the fire. The hunter grinning as she tucked herself into the roots and fell asleep. In the tiny space, Lobelia watched as arms reached through the shadow, grabbing the unconscious pixie and pulling her into a clearing.

Gently cradling her, the hunter carried her off into the dark, easily slipping past the sentries as he headed north. Keep her free, said a feminine voice that radiated with power and sounded like the baying of hounds. She woke with a start. Judging from the moonlight, she'd only been asleep a few hours, but her body was revved up with energy like she'd just had the best sleep of her life. By the goddess. She had reached into her dreams to… give her a quest? She shook her head to clear it of her thoughts.

The priestesses had never mentioned this as an option for a goddess quest. Rescuing Her chosen? Really? Reluctantly, she rolled out of the tree, whistling for her steed, and mounting before heading north, muttering about irritating pixies and how she hoped her goddess had better quests for her later the whole way. Hours passed before she picked up the trail, scenting the hunter in the air. Though Her chosen was light for baggage, it was a balmy night, and he was sweating as he carried her through the forest.

Having a steed that he did not, she managed to catch up enough to catch sight of him. She dismounted, keeping low to the ground as she followed after him. He continued to head in a straight line north, only when he came across feybeasts, he didn't avoid them. Nor did he attack them. He fed them. Shifting her into one arm, he used a shadow-step to drop feystones by the beasts. Powerful feystones. Then, while the beasts were distracted, he would sneak past them.

It was, technically, a distraction technique they often used, but with small stones—none worth more than an earth piece. His were the size of his fists, close to a whole moon in price, almost a hundred times the value. And those were the smallest he dropped. He finally stopped for the night, setting her down gently and turning to start a fire. He set a hanging tripod up, cooking up something in a small pot and adding in a powder mixture.

He called out as she settled in to wait, "You can come out of hiding, now, whoever you are." She almost cursed and revealed herself when another of her hunters melted through the trees. Although this one she knew far more intimately. Jefine.

Devcal, the shadow weaver who had taken the huntress, nodded to Jefine the raccoon shifter in greeting. She took a seat.

"Going to collect?"

"Why not? I'm getting old. I'd like to retire, and they want her unharmed. She'll be fine—I hear there's a prince looking for her." The raccoon shifter gave him a sly smile.

"There's enough bounty for two retirements, don't you think?"

"That depends." She rolled her eyes.

"You can't seriously think you'll be able to get her to the Northern Sea all by yourself." He shrugged.

"Don't need to. There's an airship waiting."

"Shit. Really? What are they going to do when they realize you're delivering a greenling?"

"Ah." He excitedly held up his index fingers, pointing up and gesturing.

"And that is where a little ingenuity comes in." He pulled out a bunch of bright blue flowers.

"Add enough blue, and she'll pass as a summer blessed pixie."

"Most summer fey have dark skin." He shrugged.

"It'd make more sense than her being a greenling." Jefine sighed.

"… I suppose I'll head back and just say I couldn't find her in this direction. That way, if you fail, I might still get a shot. After all, how hard can it be to take one greenling?" Devcal chuckled, watching her saunter off with a confident grin, daydreaming about his retirement in a cozy house in the Capital District. Long enough passed that his hidden watcher had to stretch and shift herself to keep from cramping when the little pixie groaned, and Devcal suddenly remembered he was supposed to be dosing her.

"Oppsie, time for your dose. Back to slumber you go." The pixie made a few attempts at noise as he gently sat her up and started feeding her, clearly good natured about the whole affair and taking tender care of his prize.

Lobelia almost pitied him when the moon hound then appeared, warping into existence over the top of the sleeping pixie and rapidly growing in size. He gasped and fell back before screaming as it began to rip him apart. Lobelia let it happen, instead entering the clearing to grab the dropped pouch of powder he'd added to the soup and identifying it as sleepweed, a gentle yet powerful herb that kept the affected in a dreamless sleep. Even with only a partial dose, she wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

Any healer would just tell them to let her sleep it off, as there were no ill effects when they used the same herb to perform surgeries.

"Lobelia?" She sighed.

"Jefine."

"You found her? Is she alright?" Lobelia noted that Jefine was keeping her between herself and the very angry Pakos still ripping into Devcal's corpse. It was a demonic sight, the otherwise pristine divine beast with its maw stained red with blood. Sighing, she said tiredly, "You have to know I heard."

"… yeah but… you won't turn me in, will you?" Lobelia hated her taste in women, sometimes.

"Lord Pakos, your judgement." She blinked.

"Wait, what do you mean Lord Pakos—" That was all she got out before the beast swelled up in size, and as fast as a basilisk strike, he took Jefine's head in his jaws and crushed it. Lobelia sighed. This was why she should have stuck to the whorehouses. Bowing to Pakos, she intoned, "I'll carry her while you lead us back to the safety of her fey."

The divine beast crunched a few more times on the skull in his mouth, delighting in the way the limbs twitched before turning his eyes on Lobelia. He considered her while growling, crunching on the head in a mild threat before shrinking back down to his more comfortable size. She would do.