THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

Annilasia couldn’t shake the anxiety that grew with every shriek that broke the night’s silence. She’d never heard anything like it. Cretaceons had an array of noises, and grimalkins could set a person’s hair on end. These flayers were much worse. Distortion mangled the cries, as if their disfigured faces and patchy skin elicited an immense pain that carried in their voices.

Regardless of the reason, the sound jolted her each time and interrupted all intention of agility. As she craned her neck to ensure a flayer wasn’t in pursuit, she stumbled and ran into Mygo. The collision sent her to the ground, and she landed with a clipped grunt. When she regained her bearings, Mygo stood over her with a fixed glare.

“Are you normally this conspicuous when trying to sneak around?” he asked with no amusement. “You’ve snapped every fallen branch out here, and you ran smack into me. Watch where you’re going.”

“Why’d you stop?” asked Annilasia as heat flushed across her face. She scrambled to her feet.

Mygo fiddled with his pouch and retrieved a small bottle from within. “We’re leading those things straight to your friend. They’ve got our scent, and they’re only staying away because they don’t want to get burned. Soon they’ll overcome that fear and attack again. In either case, we need to lose them.” He removed the bottle’s cap and gave her a guarded look.

His features now cast in torchlight, Annilasia noted how worn and heavy his face appeared, a trait amplified by the pale scar tracing his dark skin. The vertical line ran from scalp to lower left cheek. The weathered look continued into his eyes; the black iris pools held a brooding depth that made eye contact with him difficult.

Annilasia squared her shoulders. “What do you suggest we do, then? We ran because we couldn’t easily slay them.”

Without answering, Mygo poured some of the bottle’s contents into his open palm. Like a viper, his hand shot up as he flicked his fingers, releasing tiny droplets across Annilasia’s armor and clothes. She jolted back.

“What in dried blood was that?” She wrinkled her nose as a stench filled her nostrils.

“Something to mask our scent. It’s a mix of animal secretions that will confuse the flayers.”

Annilasia gagged. “It smells like dung. You could’ve warned me.” More droplets spit across her armor, and she shot Mygo a fiery glare.

He scowled back as he spread the liquid across his own skin. “This won’t last forever, and we need to move if we’re going to put distance between us and them.” He capped the bottle and placed it back inside his pouch.

The foul odor overwhelmed Annilasia—it caught in her nose, her throat, even her mouth. Between this and my own stench, I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over dead yet. A close-vicinity shriek distracted her from the discomfort.

“They’ve gotten closer,” whispered Annilasia.

“And that’s our cue,” said Mygo. “Now, where are we headed? Where is your friend?”

“She was heading west, but it’ll be impossible to follow the trail in the dark, or even find it.”

The man shook his head. “I saw a trail earlier before I came to put an end to your foolishness. I think I can find it again. Stay close, and watch where you’re going this time.”

Annilasia regarded Mygo as she followed him. Questions returned that had been pushed aside, and her distrust of him replaced the fear she had of the creatures. His lack of tribal identity, and his reasons for rescuing her, prodded at her resolve to follow.

“Do you live out here?” she asked.

“Keep your voice down,” he said without turning around or slowing. “These woods aren’t my home if that’s what you mean. But I’ve been out here for a while now. I know them better than you, it seems.”

“How’ve you survived? With those . . . things out here?”

“Luck of Sahruum, I guess. Or maybe a cruel joke of Dardajah.”

“Are you alone?”

Mygo halted. He turned swiftly to face her with a deep scowl. Annilasia stopped short, suddenly aware of how close they were. Her hand shot to her knife. Quick calculations raced through her mind. She was confident she could throw the knife before he could complete an attack.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked. “You think I didn’t recognize your armor? This forest may not be my home, but I’m no stranger here. You’re a tillishu—an assassin.”

Annilasia’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t move. Her eyes remained fixed on his as she quickly noted his sheathed sword.

Mygo cocked his head. “Now you’re wondering what tribe I hail from. Am I Vekuuv, Ikaul, neither? Which of those would make me an ally, I wonder?”

Annilasia’s fingers twitched around her knife. Just give me a reason to kill you, old man.

Mygo shook his head and surprised Annilasia by turning around to resume his walk. It seemed the man had no intention of giving answers. Reminding herself that he’d saved her life, she suppressed her uncertainty and took quick steps to catch up with him.

It wasn’t long before Mygo relayed that he’d spotted a trail of some sort. He didn’t offer details, but Annilasia stayed alert. If things turned vicious between them, she needed to be able to pick up Jalice’s trail herself. Dying stars, I may have lost the creatures, but now I’m leading a strange wilderman to her. By her reckoning, Mygo could very well turn out to be as dangerous as the flayers. But at least with Mygo, she could use her knife with results. The same couldn’t be said of the flayers.

“Is your friend alone?” Mygo asked.

The question caught her off guard, and she stumbled over her words. “She was . . . last time I saw her.”

Mygo was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know what obscene reason has brought you two out here, but it’s foolish. I’ve not heard of one soul who has cut through here and lived to tell the tale.”

“I didn’t advise her to do it. I’m not that naïve. I know these forests are dangerous. I just didn’t know about the flayers.”

“So why did she come, then?”

Annilasia didn’t like the tone of his question. It wasn’t hard to detect the suspicion that laced his words. She chose her answer carefully. “We got separated. I’m not entirely sure what caused her to come out here.”

“What is your relation to this woman?”

He’s asking too many questions. Unable to calm her nerves, Annilasia withdrew her knife, but Mygo was quicker.

She had little time to avoid his bulk as he crashed into her. Powerful hands shoved her against a nearby tree, and the whiplash slammed her head against the bark. Mygo kept a firm grip on her tunic as he pressed his clenched hand against her sternum. The cool touch of a blade rested on her throat. She glared back at him as he brought his face closer to hers.

“I’m going to ask you again,” said Mygo. “What is your relation to this woman you seek?”

“Let me go,” she grunted through clenched teeth.

Smooth abrasions pressed into her skin where his fingers gripped the knife. Rings perhaps. The odd detail sank under the desperate need to free herself from the man’s grip.

“A Sachem warrior lost in this cursed forest, tracking another lost soul who ran out here against that warrior’s wishes?” he mused darkly. “That doesn’t sound like an innocent tale if you ask me.”

“You’ve made a horrible mistake,” said Annilasia. “I’m going to give you the chance to rectify it by walking away.”

Mygo cracked an arrogant smile. “You’re not in control. As I see it, you’re at my mercy, which means you need to answer my question.” His smile vanished. “Why are you hunting this woman?”

“By order of the Sachem, I command you to release me!”

Mygo’s familiar scowl returned and he spat on the ground. “Now you’ve made a mistake. I thought for sure you’d be smarter at reading situations.”

Burning blood, this man isn’t Sachem loyal, she realized, unsure if that improved her circumstances.

“So, you’re no ally of the Sachem,” said Annilasia. “That’s good. We have that in common.”

Mygo scoffed. “You’re wearing Sachem armor.”

“That doesn’t make me loyal to him.”

Annilasia moved her arms. Mygo pressed the blade closer in reaction, and her skin prickled. The blade had broken skin.

“Look at my wrists,” pleaded Annilasia. “I’m not Ikaul.”

Mygo narrowed his eyes. He hesitated but eventually eased up his blade. He watched as Annilasia slowly rolled up her right sleeve. The splotchy design inked into her skin brought no comment from him.

“You know what that is,” she said. “I’m Vekuuv. I’m a slave to the Ikaul—to the Sachem.”

Mygo snorted. “Do you expect me to believe that you’re wearing this armor because of slavery? A warrior chooses who to fight for. The fact that you bear his symbol means you’ve chosen the Sachem.” He tightened his grip on her tunic. “Listen—I’m giving you one last chance to confess. If you’re a true Sachem warrior, come clean. I won’t kill you, but I refuse to help someone who proudly follows that man.”

“I’m not what you think I am,” she blurted. She gulped as Mygo’s blade grazed her fresh cut. “Don’t mistake my Ikaul symbols for sympathy. A man who condemns his ally tribes to downfall, as well as his own, isn’t a man worth following. I was helping my friend—the woman I was tracking—escape him.”

“So, you know nothing of the other warrior tracking her?” Mygo asked with an arched eyebrow. “You know a flayer got to him. Carved him up real nice.” His dark eyes searched Annilasia for a reaction.

“Wait,” she gasped. “How did you know someone was following . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You found her.”

Mygo remained stone-faced, and offered no confirmation.

“You have to tell me where she went,” said Annilasia. “She’s in danger, and I need to find her.”

“Is that so?” questioned Mygo. “Well, your friend told me her captor would come looking for her. She mentioned this person would be a woman dressed in black armor. She called this woman a tillishu—an assassin.” Mygo glanced down at Annilasia’s armor. “You seem to fit the description.”

Jalice, why must you be such a dumb-minded little yap? Annilasia forced the bite from her next words, but some of it slipped through as she spoke.

“She’s delirious,” replied Annilasia. “I’m not sure how long you spoke to her, but I assure you, she has cracked under the stress of this forest. Probably told you she wants to go back to the Fortress, right? How would that make sense? Sachem warriors are tracking her because she escaped, but she wants to go back? Think that one through.”

Mygo remained quiet yet didn’t loosen his grip.

“Suppose she is delirious,” he said finally. “That doesn’t absolve your intentions. How do I know you’re not trying to kill her like the other warrior who followed her out here? She has cuts around her wrists—someone had her bound—and her face is bruised.”

“I’m not trying to kill her,” retorted Annilasia. “I’m taking her away from the Sachem. No matter what’s she’s told you, that is what’s best for her.” Annilasia chose her next words carefully to drive her point further. “She probably told you all that because she didn’t know where your loyalty lies.”

Mygo paused in contemplation. “Your stories don’t match up. I’m not going to play games, so let’s be clear. I’m no friend of the Sachem. If I find out you are, and that you intend to hurt this woman? Well, don’t let me find that out.” He moved the knife away from her throat and backed away.

“Where is she?” Annilasia lifted a finger to the cut on her neck. Luckily, Mygo’s knife had only left a light scratch. But as she moved off the tree, a sharp pain burned across her back. She recalled that the first flayer had managed to scrape her during the scuffle.

“She’s safe,” said Mygo.

“Take me to her. I mean . . .” Annilasia realized her demanding tone wasn’t going to help her cause, so she attempted to relax her voice. “I’m worried about her. This forest probably hasn’t been good for her resolve. I need to make sure she’s all right.”

Mygo nodded slowly. “No more delays, then. We need to make sure we’ve lost the flayers before we go to her.”

The two resumed their journey and traveled in silence. Annilasia had underestimated his speed before, and so kept her distance now. She decided not to ask any more questions either. Her need to find Jalice outweighed the desire to know more about the aloof wilderman who now led her.

It was difficult to keep track of how far or how long they traveled. The flayers’ shrieks became less frequent and then ceased altogether. When they could no longer hear the cries, Mygo slowed his pace. He stopped and turned to Annilasia.

“Maybe your story is true,” said Mygo. “Maybe you’re trying to help this woman. Maybe you’re not. Either way, none of this will concern me beyond tonight. You can sleep here, but you’ll leave in the morning. Until then, whatever your intentions, don’t lay a hand on her.”

Annilasia remained silent. She wasn’t about to commit to any plan proposed by the wilderman.

Mygo said no more and led Annilasia to a small clearing. The torchlight revealed a strange formation at its center. As they drew closer, it became clear that it was another bunker, only this one was above ground. A unified slab of seamless stone and metal, it had a round foundation, creating a massive walk-around circle. Boarded up windows hid whatever lay inside.

“You know what this is?” asked Mygo.

“It’s something from long ago,” she replied. “Most of these are occupied by the Ikaul. Does anyone else have a claim to this one?” Korcsha sprang to her mind—she wasn’t in the mood for another aethertwister.

Mygo shook his head. “I expect no one has lived long enough with the flayers out here to discover it. I’m lucky the flayers haven’t found it. But even if they did, it’s fortified enough to keep them out.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting trapped inside?”

Mygo simply grunted. He strode over to the entrance and beat his hand against the iron doors in a sequence of heavy pounds and light taps. In turn, the door creaked loudly open. The light from inside poured out and illuminated Mygo’s frame. He gestured for Annilasia to follow.

She hesitated. Horror stories of defenseless girls, kidnapped in the forests of Ikaul, flashed in her mind. She took slow steps forward and clenched her knife.

While Annilasia slowly moved, a short silhouette came to the door and sauntered to Mygo. The newcomer startled her, and she froze. When her eyes had adjusted enough to the bunker’s light, she realized the stout man stood no taller than Mygo’s waist.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” said Mygo, a gentler tone riding in his gruff voice. He remained by the door as he waited for Annilasia to join him.

I swear on every dying star, if you’ve tricked me, I will ensure the flayers find this place. Giving no warning, she shouted Jalice’s name. Mygo glared at her, but Annilasia ignored this. She wasn’t going to walk into a strange space to be locked inside by two strange men. If Jalice was indeed nearby, unharmed, the chieftess would make herself known now.

A new figure moved into the doorframe, outlined by the light. Annilasia squinted, unsure if it was wise to allow hope to overtake her caution.

“Annilasia, is that you?” asked a familiar, timid voice.

Her body relaxed. Jalice was alive. She wasn’t dead—no beast, no warrior, no tragedy had slain her. Annilasia hadn’t failed. A light trembling shook her, followed by a darkness that swallowed the forest and the light. Her thoughts dissipated into nothingness.