issue isn't my vision. We're engulfed in a storm of dust.
A bomb. One of us stepped on it. I've heard about them, of course, but it's the first time I've ever experienced one.
"Ive?" I can barely hear a word I'm saying. I must have ruptured an eardrum, or hit my head too hard. “Ina, Jules, Lucan?” I call everyone one by one, hoping their hearing's better than mine at the moment. "Scatter. You go back to Whitecroft. We're making a detour. Meda? With us."
Through the dust, I spot the pixie. She nods, understanding me, and follows after.
It doesn't matter whether the landmine had been planted specifically for us or if it's just coincidental we set it off; everyone a hundred miles off has heard it, and knows our location. I have to hope that, if the others haven't heard me, they're smart enough to get the hell out of here and return to Whitecroft.
That is, assuming they’re still alive. I don’t let myself think about it.
The first part of our mission was a phenomenal failure, but it doesn't mean that we have to give up on the second. Especially now that we know what the mortals are capable of.
We're veering to the north when the first arrow flies past me. Then, there's another, and another after that. They're shooting blind, in the dark, but it's a volley; many come close. I hear a grunt, but I can't stop.
"Meda." Vlari's alarm makes me turn.
Her grandmother's some paces to our left and a footlong arrow sticks out of her shoulder.
I dart to her side, and pull her on my shoulder, too.
Running at full speed while carrying two pixies, I tire faster than I would like. When the arrows stop for a moment, I take cover behind a tree, and kneel on the ground.
"Now isn't the time for a break, boy," the pixie barks at me, before groaning.
Vlari hops off me and moves to her grandmother, pulling the arrow out without any warning. She rips some of her undershirt off and ties it around Meda's shoulder while I do, indeed, rest. And calm down.
It takes a few breaths to feel in touch with my magic. Myst gathers around us, faster than I remember it ever coming to me.
"Your hands," I ask, removing my gloves to touch them skin to skin.
Vlari and Meda take my offered palms, and I pull them along with me, leading my Myst as far north as I've ever gone, then farther still, as deep inside the Murkwood as any fae can venture.
I only let go when I feel my magic straining, taxing me too much. The Myst is a dangerous tool, but an endless stream of clueless tutors had shown me how to harness and control it at Whitecroft. The first lesson was to never push past my limits. Unless I want it to kill me.
We're all out of breath, tense, and filled with ire.
But we're safe, for now.
We landed in a glade, so deep inside the Murkwood we could be on seelie territory—or at the borders.
"These hills," Meda says, with a wince, waving to the elevations in the distance. "I know them." She's struggling more than she should be after one shot. Getting hit by an arrow is never pleasant, but there's something else going on.
The moment I start to suspect it, the stench of poison hits my nostrils. The arrow was iron tipped, and laced with something.
"Her wound," I say.
Vlari rips Meda's sleeve off, and we can see dark, almost-black blood ooze out of the cut, drenching the makeshift bandage.
Meda swears. "Salt and bane."
Vlari's eyes widen. "How will it affect you?"
Poisons would only weaken me or her for a time, but pixies are not gentry folk.
"Depends on how much they used. Help me up."
The last thing she should be doing is getting up. "You need to rest."
"What I need," Meda replies, getting to her feet, "is to reach those hills. They mark the start of the Darker Woods, which belongs to the Court of Sunlight."
Seelie land.
Vlari and I glance at each other.
"Do you think they'll help you?"
"I know they will. Let's go. Before something worse than humans catches our scent."
Fair Folk
Vlari
I grin as my boots hit the mossy ground.
Drusk is quick to catch it. “You know, most people would be trembling at the idea of approaching the seelie folk when they hate our guts. Not to mention that we're in the land of the wild folk.”
“Most people aren’t me.”
When I ran through the Murkwood last, I was