Shadowguard

The forest loomed before them now, a twisted mass of oaks that stretched as far as the eye could see. Five miles beyond the tree line, the kingdom’s borders ended, and the Wildlands began. Once they crossed the line, the Guard wouldn’t be of concern. They had no authority beyond the border, and if they tried to push the limits of their boundaries, they’d find it more trouble than it was worth.

“Is walking out in the open like this a good idea?” Everna asked, just as the road through the outskirts petered out and the trail that led to the forest began. “What if someone’s following us?”

“I doubt the Guard thought you’d escape the town,” he said. “Besides, cutting through the farms would be even more obvious.”

If they didn’t leave a path through the fields, they’d alert every guard dog within the mile. The open country was a necessary risk. Once they passed into the sheltered darkness of the forest, and unless the Guard had ways of seeing through the veil of night, they’d be beyond detection.

As far as sight went, that was. No sooner than they passed into the trees, Everna found every leaf and twig in the path. They snapped beneath her feet, the sound amplified by the stillness of the night.

Three miles from the border, the trail vanished. The trees grew denser, their trunks thicker and branches more plentiful. Many still clung to their leaves, the forest unprepared for the sudden arrival of winter. Patches of snow dotted the forest floor where the dense canopy allowed, while icicles hung from the boughs. The call of owls and other nocturnal birds echoed through the night, and more than once, they shot off into the sky as they passed their roosts.

Everna was nearly on top of him now, stumbling over gnarled roots and rock. Wil felt her hand on his back, her fingers reaching for his cloak. Then she distanced herself, only to reach for him again a few moments later. He’d forgotten that her human eyes weren’t as sensitive to light as his were, but she would have to deal with it as best he could. If the Guard had followed them, any unnecessary light would give away their location.

It seemed Everna’s stumbling had done just that. They were mere feet from the border when the low whistle of an arrow reached his ears. He spun on his heels, reaching for Everna, just as the arrow found its mark.

With a strangled cry, she stumbled forward, clutching her shoulder.

Another arrow flew past, missing her by mere inches, and sank into the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Not following us, my ass,” Everna hissed through gritted teeth.

Her nails dug into her shoulder as she stumbled behind one of the wider trees. Sweat beaded on her brow as she seethed through her nose. Yet, she didn’t remove the arrow.

Good, he wouldn’t have to worry about her killing herself on top of everything else.

A third bolt streaked past, this one wide of its mark. It burrowed into the truck beside him, the shaft a foot from his face. Black fletching sprouted from the ends, and unease pitted in his stomach.

The forest fell silent once more. Everna swallowed her pain, her breathing labored but muffled. The arrow didn’t go too deep; her coat took the bulk of it and she still had feeling in her arm. If he had to guess, the head was only an inch or two beneath her skin.

A minute passed, and Wil waited, listening for even a hint of movement. When he heard nothing, he leaned around the trunk. No sooner than he did, the whistle returned. The arrow clipped the side of his hood and his hand shot up, his fingers curling around the shaft.

He examined the tip, and cold fear seized his heart. Rather than the straight and triangular heads used by the Guard, this one sported a dramatic curve along the bottom. The corners jutted inward, a pair of wicked barbs extending from each.

An Assassin’s Arrowhead.

Only one group that used such arrowheads, and they served only one purpose. They preyed upon ignorance. Had Everna pulled the arrow free, she’d have taken a chunk of her shoulder with it.

Then he noticed the smell permeating from the tip — the pungent aroma of flowers that carried a sour undertone.

Queen’s Root.

A single glance at Everna confirmed his suspicions. Her head bobbed, eyes clouded despite her attempts to keep them open. Gone was the pain that twisted her countenance; she leaned heavily against the tree, her body slacked and her breathing slowed.

Queen’s Root wasn’t lethal, even in large quantities; it was a common ingredient in herbal teas and sleep aids, but in hefty doses, it caused temporary paralysis, amnesia, and unconsciousness of varying degrees. The more unsavory circles used it as a sedative.

Wil blew out a breath. Engaging their pursuer was too risky. In her state, Everna was nothing but a liability. The archer might not be alone; there may be another waiting to make off with her while the other diverted his attention.

The safe house was still four miles to the west. He couldn’t carry her; it would only leave her exposed and hinder him. There was only one option, and it came with its own complications.

Planetrace was a complex spell, one that required a complete transformation of the physical body as it passed into the boundary between planes and immense concentration to maintain that incorporeal form. It was dangerous enough to cross larger distances alone; to do so with another increased that danger exponentially. A lapse in focus could spell disaster for both of them.

He didn’t have a choice.

Using a large blackberry bush as cover, he darted to Everna. She remained locked in her battle with consciousness, lingering between coherency and obliviousness. At some point she’d slid down the trunk, sitting in a tangled mess of useless limbs on the forest floor. Only the tree behind her kept her upright.

She was dead weight in his arms as he hauled her over his shoulder. A mess of slurred speech tumbled from her lips — something vaguely resembling a question. She lifted her arm ever so slightly, only for it to fall limp once again.

As another arrow rocketed towards them, the world dissolved into a monochrome blur.

Wil hated the space between the planes; it was distorted and disorienting, an ever-shifting mass of shadows pulled into sharp contrast. They were closer to Caligo than he’d like, the gaping void of the Realm of Shadow a heavy burden against his mind. It was one of the more dangerous planes, one ruled by deities no sane person dared worship and guarded by creatures just as harsh as the darkness that birthed them. Few who passed through the boundary returned; the ones who did were never quite the same.

After the first minute — so he assumed, time was little more than a stagnate entity in the boundary between planes — the spell’s effects took hold. His concentration slipped, the world shifting between utter darkness and shadowy forest. Everna was slipping as well, her presence fading in and out of his reach. Any longer and he’d lose her entirely.

As if the planes themselves decided he’d spent long enough between them, he stumbled back into Iridia once more. He hit the ground, hard, as his body solidified. His knees buckled, Everna no longer weightless but bearing down on his back, and they tumbled to the ground. Nausea turned his stomach, the mess of snowy twigs and fallen leaves swimming before his eyes. He barely felt it when Everna rolled off his shoulder and landed beside him.

He drew in a shuddering breath, the winter air harsh against his throat. Numbness spread through his arms, which trembled as he struggled to keep himself off the ground, then to the rest of his body. Tentatively, he flexed his fingers, the static of pins and needles intensifying.

When his vision cleared and he could finally lift his head, he cursed. On the other side of a large clearing, sat the safe house. Light spilled from the open windows, the murmur of idle chatter drifting on the breeze. Off to the left, he saw the stables, the horses draped in woolen blankets asleep in their stalls.

The sound of approaching footsteps, quick and urgent, rose from his right.

“Gods above, Wil! What happened to you?!”

“It’s been a long night,” he bit out.

A hand found its way to his shoulder, the touch delicate but prodding. Leah, the safe-houses current healer, leaned down, and studied his face. A deep frown tugged at her lips.

“You pushed yourself too far again. Didn’t you?” she asked. “Consider me impressed. It’s by nothing but the Golden Lady’s grace you’re still conscious.”

“Didn’t have a choice,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet. Almost immediately, he stumbled, Leah scrambling to hold him steady. “Quit fussing over me. I’m fine. She’s the one you need to look at.”

She turned to Everna and sighed. “Another damsel in distress? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“That one’s not your average damsel in distress,” he grumbled.

Something akin to familiarity lit her eyes as Leah knelt beside her. Her fingers found the arrow’s fletching, and she frowned. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah. We’ve got problems. Big ones. The situation in Pendel’s worse than we imagined.”

Leah gently turned Everna onto her back, examining her further. “This is the barmaid? Osain’s going to throttle you. He told you to stay out of it.”

“Osain won’t have time to throttle me. Shroud’s in Pendel, Leah. And I’m certain they’ve control of the Guard. Possibly even the Courts, with how quickly her case escalated. She’d have been dead before the end of the week.”

Leah pursed her lips, the deep tan of her skin several shades lighter in the wake of that revelation. With far more grace and care than he could ever manage, Leah lifted Everna from the snow. “She needs tending to. And rest. As do you.”

“I’m fine,” he protested.

“You’re anything but. I’ll inform Osain of what’s happened, and you can give him the details come morning.”

“Leah, it can’t—”

“It can and it will wait,” she clipped. “You can hardly stand, and there is nothing more we can do tonight. Now, in you go, before I have Vina come persuade you.”