Page 14 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

Wiping my mouth the best I could with my heavy arms, I blinked at the ground beneath me—dark and devoid of life, cracked earth sprawled out in all directions around me except for one. Just beside my head, gnarled tree roots seemed to spring out of nowhere, feeding up into the dark bark of trees I was too dizzy to take in the full height of.

No, we hadn’t set up camp near trees at all.

We’d been right on the border of Odessa and the Wastes, just where the land was barren but not yet dead. No trees nearby at all. Just rocks, weeds, and dry grass as far as the eye could see. Streja had bitched about the openness and the wind incessantly, and⁠—

Oh, fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I was half-upright before I processed it, staggering in a brutal limp back toward the tent I had just crawled from, only for it to fully yield to flames, sending a surge of heat toward me as the support ropes snapped, and it collapsed. I staggered back on a string of curses, shielding my face from the scorching blast.

“Streja?” I shouted, but my throat was raw, and I devolved into a fit of raspy coughing.

When I finally caught my breath, my hand came back spattered with blood, and my vision swam, darkening at the edges, an annoying threat that it and my consciousness could give way at any moment. But in that precise moment, the true gravity of my surroundings seemed to hit me all at once.

The dozens of structures we’d fought to erect the evening before were actively burning before me or reduced to a smoldering pile. But this wasn’t where we’d made camp; I was sure of it. It was as if the hand of a giant had picked us up and deposited us somewhere else. I couldn’t even spot our horses, nor the ridge face where we’d anchored their leads.

And even more alarming?

The stillness that surrounded it all.

No commotion; no movement.

No noise—Odessan made or not—save for the crackle of eating flame and the dull moan of the wind.

A wave of internal heat washed over me, leaving my skin feeling suddenly clammy as my head swam. Pain rattled up through my knees next as they collided with the unyielding earth and set a searing burst of agony so intense through my calf, I cried out. I pitched forward, and my body met the ground, kicking up dust. One pained grunt pulled all the air from my lungs as I curled on my side and fought to keep my eyes open.

Another terrifying revelation came moments after that.

The trunks behind and canopy half-above me weren’t just any trees. They were the gnarled black branches of the ashclaw tree, and I only knew of one place they grew—the Lastlight Woods. Not only was my camp decimated, but I was grievously injured and at the mercy of the denizens of those terrifying woodlands.

That was the last thought to grace my ravaged mind before my vision narrowed to a pinprick.

4

A DYREHORSE? A DEER? OH NO

ENORA

Ibecame alerted to the most thunderous buzzing of bugs I’d ever heard, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. They came at me from all directions, like I’d been caught in an unimaginable swarm of bird-sized horseflies, but my eyes refused to open, and my limbs felt tethered, protesting ardently to any movement. The truest testament to how delirious and half-conscious I really was—the incessant buzzing sounded like it pitched into words sometimes. Squeaky, panicked words.

Bzzzzzz. Bzz. Bzzzz.

“Let me help! Let me help!”

Bzz. Smack.

“No, Aofe!” Bzzzzzz. “Don’t touch! Eilir asked me, not you!”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzz.

Goddess, if I could’ve laughed! It sounded just like children bickering.

But my awareness waned, and the quiet claimed me again.

Not that it lasted long.

Shrill bickering came back in a burst that stirred me awake once more, though my eyes and limbs didn’t feel the need to oblige.