THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

It was a bloodbath.

The gore and carnage exceeded any Annilasia had experienced as an assassin. Her training had built her a thick skin for the macabre, but nothing had desensitized her to this level of violence. This was the work of a madman. Someone with no concept of righteousness or the sacredness of life. No animal could’ve done this.

Her first instinct was to run—to get as far away as possible without ever looking back. Yet despite the horrific display, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Her thoughts latched onto the worst possibility. In the horrific onslaught, Jalice may have been shred to pieces. If Jalice was dead, Annilasia had failed her mission.

She studied the mess for something that would confirm this conclusion. Shrouding the area in a myriad of shadows, the fading light made it difficult to see. But there was something beyond the graphic nature of the scene that unnerved Annilasia.

Silence. That was the source of her distress. She thought it scandalous that the forest refused to protest the horrendous crime. Even atop the grisly scene, the absence of sound festered. Death beckoned to the flesheaters; it seemed impossible that the carcass and its scattered remains hadn’t attracted vultures, cretaceons, or flies.

Annilasia blanched at this remarkable aberration. She could excuse the absence of other scavengers, but at the very least the area should’ve been infested with flies. Yet not one buzzed over the pieces of discarded flesh.

Her gaze fell on a collection of oddities near the hump at the center of the carnage. Like the rest of the bloodshed, it was stained red. The idea of moving closer sickened her, but she needed confirmation of the victim’s identity. With careful strides to avoid a misstep onto entrails, she approached the oddities near the pile. The smell of death worsened as she grew closer.

Unexpectedly, a burst of glee flooded Annilasia. It buried her disgust in a sweeping wave of pleasure. The stench transformed into a euphoric perfume; the blood elicited an excited shiver. She paused to revel in the violent panorama as a choked laugh crawled from her lungs.

After a few seconds, her previous revulsion returned to banish the strange sensation. She remained frozen, now by shock. I’m going insane. Never had she found glee at such gruesomeness. She shook herself and resumed her march towards the items near the morbid pile.

Upon closer inspection, she was startled to discover it was abandoned armor and shredded garb. The obvious insignia of demented faces and exaggerated beasts—etched across a white cloth now stained with red blotches—instantly revealed the ensemble’s origins.

Hirishu armor. The clue sent her mind racing. A hirishu out this far in the forest had to have been the person following Jalice. Now it made sense how someone had discovered the bunker despite Korcsha’s aether veil. Hirishu had a complicated relationship with aethertwisting—not quite twisters in their own right but trained in the art in order to defend the Fortress. If this one had been following Annilasia and Jalice, a mystery like an aether-veiled bunker wouldn’t have confused them for long.

The discovery of the hirishu birthed new mysteries. Annilasia wondered how Jalice would have survived her encounter with one, and why the warrior had kept her alive long enough to escape. Not to mention, the hirishu were pledged to stay permanently stationed at the Fortress. There shouldn’t have been one stalking the women.

Annilasia brushed the questions aside and risked another glance at the pile. Her eyes raked across the innards as her stomach clenched. There was no sign of visible skin—no distinct limbs, no torso, or even shredded slivers. All that remained was viscera. It was as if the victim’s outer shell had been ripped off and cast into the abyss.

The urge to hurl bubbled in her throat. Just as Annilasia decided to avert her gaze, her eyes happened upon a set of features amongst the collage of blood and organs. A set of dead eyes met hers, and she jerked back.

The decapitated head sat nestled amongst the gore like a hidden centerpiece, boasting the only skin of the victim Annilasia had seen thus far. Gashes ran across it, marring the lineaments to be nearly indistinguishable.

Yet recognition struck like a splinter beneath her skin. It was none other than Terrizo.

The man’s wide eyes stared back at her, and she remembered the hirishu she’d confronted upon entering the Fortress days earlier. Annilasia wondered why he had followed them, and the tame question struck her as slightly insignificant given his violent fate. Still, something didn’t seem right. She assumed he’d found the bunker and released Jalice, but it made little sense that a struggle had occurred. The man should have recognized Jalice, and the two naturally should have returned to the Fortress. Yet the opposite had transpired.

Annilasia’s head pounded, and the putrid smell still burned in her nostrils. She wouldn’t be able to think clearly here, and she worried that whatever had slaughtered Terrizo might return. One last glance over the discarded armor determined none of it could be salvaged—too much blood contaminated it. Eager to put some space between herself and the decapitated head, she rose up and staggered away.

She’d taken only a few steps before it hit her. Terrizo’s sword. Exhilarated at such a miraculous treasure unaccounted for, Annilasia scoured the area despite the morbid scenery. When she found the abandoned sword, she cursed under her breath. Multiple shards lay scattered across the ground, their black halo gone. Whatever had attacked the hirishu had destroyed his weapon.

While seething over this, she noticed a distinct imprint in the ground near the shattered blade. At first glance, the blood-soaked footprint was easy to mistake as human. But Annilasia paused over the faint impression of what appeared to be claw marks—five at the top, with another at the heel.

Perhaps it was a fluke—some strange overlap giving the appearance of claw marks.

A quick inspection of the area skirting the slaughter disproved this. It didn’t take long to find matching prints, all outlined in red and boasting the same grooves at the tips.

Annilasia stared in disbelief. Despite her initial thoughts, it appeared an animal had killed the hirishu. Was this why the grimalkins changed direction? Even so, Annilasia wondered what kind of animal killed in this manner. She followed the prints back to the bloodied scene, curious if she could piece together an explanation for the beast’s behavior. The pattern was a chaotic mess though, and her only conclusion was that the beast had reveled in Terrizo’s demise.

Annilasia’s heart skipped when the prints veered away from the carnage. No longer treading through the blood, the tracks slowly lost the defined red stain. As the prints became more difficult to spot in the dirt, Annilasia realized the creature’s trajectory. Her steps quickened as she willed the creature’s path to turn away. The feeble hope collapsed when the tracks intersected with the remaining set of boot prints.

The beast was now following Jalice.

Annilasia swore angrily at the sky. Her gaze bore into the trail of clawed prints as if to scourge them from the earth. After a long moment, she swayed herself against reason, and decided she would be foolish enough to follow after them.

Tracking, however, would have to wait until morning. Night had arrived in full. The sky above donned streaks of thin clouds but displayed an otherwise clear view of its starry expanse. Annilasia knew that if she tried to press on anyways, she wouldn’t last long. Between hunger and exhaustion, she’d reached her limit. She also risked losing the trail in the dark.

Jalice would just have to survive until the next day. Annilasia found the gamble far from auspicious.

A layer of goosebumps provoked her to consider building a fire. The chill would only worsen as the night went on, and could pose a hazard if it lowered her body temperature too far. Yet she hesitated. A fire could draw the attention of wildlife skulking in the dark. If she slept on the ground to stay warm, she could end up a meal for predators. The alternative was to sleep in a tree to avoid the wildlife.

Torn between warmth and safety, Annilasia begrudgingly decided on warmth and busied herself with gathering the necessary sticks and mulch. As she figured it, without warmth, she might succumb to hypothermia and die anyway. She’d have to rely on ingrained instincts to wake her if attacked.

After building her steeple of branches and lighting it with a match, she sat on the ground a few feet from the fire and fought off the temptation of sleep as she struggled through another meal.

She furrowed her brow as she stared into the fire. The vivid traumas of the day swarmed her mind, stirring up aggravation at Jalice. Continuing to keep the mindless woman alive was proving far more laborious than Annilasia deemed worthy. The only reason Annilasia was traveling with Jalice was because of Delilee. The decoy had insisted that Jalice survive the execution of the plan, and that it was Annilasia who needed to protect the chieftess. When Annilasia had refused to guarantee the Tecalica’s safety, Delilee threatened to abandon her role in the plot.

As the hypnotic flames danced before Annilasia, she entertained the idea of breaking that agreement. Delilee wouldn’t know it was any failing of Annilasia’s if she were to return without Jalice. It would be so close to the truth—admitting the chieftess had been slain by a beast. Annilasia could abandon this absurd search for Jalice and resume the true vein of her plan—taking out the Sachem. She could pictureit already: him lying motionless at her feet while his blood rolled down the steps of the desecrated Temple.

It would be easy to do. Annilasia would return the leeches and book to Korcsha, then rejoin Delilee to investigate the Sachem’s secrets. She could even make herself believe that allowing Jalice to perish would be the best decision for the survival of the tribes. Chasing a selfish wretch through the woods seemed irresponsible in comparison to the possible gain.

“Keep her safe, Annilasia. She’s not the same childhood friend we once knew, but . . . Just keep her safe.”

Delilee’s words rang in Annilasia’s head, bringing a quick end to her forbidden schemes to abandon Jalice. The tillishu settled on her side with her back to the fire. She scanned the faint outline of the trees.

Delilee was risking as much as Annilasia in this scheme. If she wanted Jalice alive, then Annilasia owed her that much. She’d been a loyal ally, and Annilasia was grateful for the woman’s bravery.

There were also Jalice’s wards to consider. The aether spells were too complex for Annilasia to fully grasp, but she knew they somehow kept the Sachem apprised of Jalice’s whereabouts and would no doubt notify him if the chieftess were to perish. So long as those wards remained on Jalice—dead or alive—there was the possibility the Sachem might discover their schemes against him.

Annilasia reflected on her obligations. Jalice would have to survive the night—that much was on the Tecalica. If the chieftess was still alive when they reunited, then Annilasia would stay devoted to protecting her. They would continue heading west until they reached the Nova Oasis—the rendezvous point where Elothel would meet them. The mirajin would break the chieftess’s aether wards, and Annilasia would leave Jalice with Elothel and finally be done with her for good.

The plan solidified once more, resolving Annilasia’s moment of doubt and temptation.

The fire crackled amid the overbearing silence, and the noise comforted her. Several times, she had a strange sensation of being watched. Even now, recollection of the bunker’s nightmare marred her mind. Anxiety twisted her senses. Behind every tree, she glimpsed two haunted eyes and a set of gashed lips suspended in the air.

She knew they weren’t truly there. Her emotions and mind were just playing tricks on her. Cruel, cruel tricks.

Hoping to curb these disturbing visions, Annilasia retrieved the medresa. Her fingers twirled unkempt strands of hair around the beaded string. She cringed when the tangled knots pulled at her scalp.

The distraction did little to calm her though, and her thoughts shifted to the new predator that hunted Jalice. She wondered at its origin, and at the methods it had used to kill Terrizo. Such vile tactics confounded her ability to identify the monstrosity.

Terrizo’s cold, empty eyes revisited her, staring out from within the pile of innards.

Her own eyes grew heavy. After fastening the medresa into her hair, she allowed her muscles to grow limp. As a small measure of protection, she kept a knife clutched in hand. The fire’s warmth blanketed her skin, and soon after, sleep ushered her into the black abyss that preceded dreams.