Nicklyn shrugged. “Hey, man, like I said, this is old stuff. We never touched it ourselves. Most of us don’t even know about it, otherwise we’d have it all sent back to the Druids in Eritopia. All I can tell you is where I heard the artifacts might be,” Nicklyn replied. “There’s nothing more, sorry.”
“We’ll have to work with that, I suppose,” Eva murmured, pursing her lips.
“Do you know why this weird stuff is happening?” Olf asked Taeral. “The fire fae exploding… The water fae coming after you… It’s weird as hell. Where’s it all coming from?”
Taeral shook his head. “I guess you’ll all find out once we get the facts together. Until then, I can only advise you all to be careful and maybe stop worshipping the Hermessi for a while.”
“Whoa…” Olf gasped. “What gives? How are the elements related to this?”
“You don’t want to know, trust me,” Taeral said firmly. I understood why he didn’t want to give away anything else from our investigation. It was, after all, common practice to withhold investigative details until a full report was drawn up. But there was also a creepy factor to take into account here. At least one Hermessi was involved, and we had zero knowledge of how to stop it. We were okay with carrying that load, but I figured the masses would be prone to panic, and that was the last thing we needed. “Just listen to me, I know what I’m saying. Go easy on the worship. Focus on your natural abilities. You didn’t need the Hermessi before, and you sure as hell don’t need them now.”
“But we’re their emissaries,” Nicklyn grumbled.
“So, what?! The Fenn brothers were emissaries, too!” Taeral snapped. “Wake the hell up. Or don’t. Your choice. I’ve done my due diligence here. Thank you for the information; hopefully it yields something.”
Taeral didn’t wait for any of the brothers’ replies. Instead, he turned away and started walking east, as per Nicklyn’s instruction.
“We’re walking?” I asked, slightly surprised. I would’ve thought Taeral or Riza would teleport us fifty miles across the woods.
“We don’t know the terrain or the destination,” Taeral replied, getting farther away. “I don’t want to risk it.”
“I don’t mind. I like using my legs,” Riza chimed in, trying to relieve some of the tension.
We had no choice but to go after him. I gave the triplets an apologetic smile, then whizzed past them and caught up with Taeral. The rest of our crew was right behind us. I could feel Eva’s eyes on me, my nape ticklish and ridiculously sensitive all of a sudden.
As we entered the deepest and darkest part of the eastern woods, and as we left the twinkling lights of Amador in our wake, I kept walking and waiting for Taeral to say something. Anything. I just needed to make sure he was okay. He’d gone from hot to cold one too many times since we’d started this mission, and I trusted him to lead us in the right direction—a task he couldn’t possibly undertake if his psyche was broken.
He finally spoke. “If you expect me to tell you I’m okay, you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
“Reading my mind, now?” I chuckled.
“No. I just know you well enough,” he replied, the shadow of a smile dancing across his face. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend. I’m on edge. I’m worried. I’m grieving for my friend and the fire fae I had to bury. But I’m not falling apart. I’ll keep going until I find a way to stop this. So, please, don’t worry about me, Varga. I’ve got this.”
He said it with such conviction, I had no choice but to wholeheartedly believe him.
“I trust you,” I said.
And I did. With my life. We all did.
The forest swallowed us whole, as we covered mile after mile of seemingly quiet wilderness, on our way to Perillyn. With a little bit of luck, we’d find some Cerixian soil samples and get to where we truly needed to be—digging through foreign archives for tips and tricks on how to pull the plug on a rogue fire Hermessi…
Riza
Where we could see across the terrain clearly for more than half a mile, Taeral teleported us to gain some time. Walking the whole fifty-mile stretch would’ve taken longer than the time we had. Switching between walking for a few yards, then teleporting over hundreds was something else entirely.
Something told me I had to keep my guard up, at all times. My instincts had yet to fail me so far, so I paid attention. I didn’t have the enhanced senses of a vampire, nor a sentry’s True Sight or a Lamia’s snake-like tongue to sniff the air for trouble. But I was equipped well enough to make sure I was ready for whatever or whoever came at us.
Most of our journey through the woods, however, was remarkably calm and uneventful. There were plenty of animals around, but there wasn’t a single earth fae settlement nearby. All we had was darkness and silence, with the exception of the occasional chirp, trill, or predatory growl—the usual night out in the woodlands, come to think of it.
We were on foot for the next fifty yards or so. I was tempted to relax a little, at least enough to let myself become aware of Herakles walking by my side and stealing glances at me. I’d felt him looking, but I kept quiet. I didn’t know what sort of interest he had in me, but I had no intention of asking. Despite the fact that he made my pulse race to some imaginary and distant finish line, I figured he’d tell me something if he wanted to. I sure as hell wasn’t going to take the first step.
Wait, the first step to what?
“What’s up?” I asked, then mentally slapped myself.
What the hell, Riza?!
“What’s up where?” Herakles replied, without looking at me.
I’d fallen into a trap of my own making, and I had to quickly find a way out.
“Nothing,” I shot back.
“Okay.”
Why did that response make me boil? What the hell was wrong with me? I glanced to my right and found him smiling at me. “Seriously, what?” I mumbled.
“Can’t a guy look at something pretty without having to answer for it?” Herakles replied.
My face burned. My heart jumped. Yet, my ego exploded.
“Excuse me? I’m a ‘something?’”
“We all are. I’m something that came out of a madman’s dream. You’re something pretty,” Herakles said unapologetically, then pointed at Raphael, who walked in front of us. “He’s something I keep getting stuck with, for example.”
I heard Raphael scoff, but I knew he was smiling. On the inside, I, too, was grinning. Herakles had called me pretty. It was supposed to be a compliment, yet I was acting out, seemingly offended by his objectification—which wasn’t even that. Herakles’s social markers weren’t the same as everyone else’s. He had a way of speaking his mind without caring much about the words he chose. In his mind, he’d meant well. I’d taken it the wrong way, and I was now cringing.
“This isn’t your first field mission, is it?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.