Page 24 of Consumed
Like the forest is watching us back.
There were no birds. No movement in the undergrowth. Nothing. Only the lonely howl of the winter wind. The longer Desmond listened, the more he swore he heard whispering with every gust between crooked branches.
He stole a look at their leader, who rode at the back of the group. Druid Chereth was enveloped in a heavy black cloak with a draped hood that concealed the scarring across his right cheek. Even he looked on guard, slowing his black mare to a cautious amble.
The chill in the air burrowed deeper than winter. There was something ancient here, something that made it very clear they were unwanted.
A crack sounded—small and sharp, just ahead. Desmond barely had time to clutch at the reins before his horse let loose a fearful whinny and reared violently. He was thrown, hitting the frozen earth with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. His torch rolled from his hand, extinguished with a hiss as it landedon the frosted leaves.
Two other riders dismounted to help him, one calming the startled horse and leading it back into line with the others.
“You alright, lad?”
“I’m fine,” Desmond grunted, pushing himself onto his side. He swept his tawny hair back out of his eyes, scanning the ground.
Something small glittered in the underbrush, nearly invisible in the flickering shadows cast by the dozen torches. On hands and knees, he crawled closer, straightening his fur-lined cloak so as not to impede his movements. It was a diamond—or a striking gem, at least. No bigger than the size of a grain of barley, hewn in a delicate, tapered shape.
Another glint in the dirt—yet another gem, nearly tucked under the roots of an oak tree. Desmond frowned at the peculiarity, looking for more. Was it a trail, leading somewhere?
He reached for the beckon of those iridescent facets. When he let his gaze rest heavily enough on them, he swore he could hear music, like a distant chime.
“Don’t touch it!”
The growled command made Desmond reel back. Druid Chereth dismounted his horse in a movement strikingly swift for someone of his age. His hood billowed and fell as he strode toward the younger hunter, weaving between the hunting party.
He knelt, shoving Desmond back so he could get a closer look. He cursed loudly, bristling a response from many to raise their spears.
“What is it?” Desmond asked.
Chereth combed a hand through his ragged silver beard. “It’s a token of death from a spirit. Rare, but not to be overlooked.” He fixed Desmond with such a grave look that he felt his dinner turn in his stomach. “If you accept it, they’ll come for you. The forest will claim you for itself.”
“That thing can kill you?” Desmond asked, incredulous. It was such a delicate little trinket.
Chereth’s eyes darkened. “Worse than death, lad. The soul will be chained for eternity—a precipice between life and death, where even Brigid above can’t help you.”
Desmond’s face paled, but he gave a grim nod of understanding. And even still, a part of himwantedthat stone.
“Iron for such spirits?” he asked.
Druid Chereth grunted, nodding as he unsheathed the iron sword at his hip. It was a custom piece, slightly curved and engraved with protective runes along its blade.
“Over here!” Another shout came a few meters away. Desmond followed the hunters who’d dismounted, finding a clearing that seemed ravaged by the gods themselves. It looked as though some beast had tunneled out from beneath the earth, with tree roots exposed and suspended like dying snakes. Between the jagged roots, a carpet of green grass peppered with flowers sprawled across theearth—an impossible oasis of snowdrops and roses amid the barren landscape. Desmond loosed an awed breath—he couldn’t help it. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Most of the cursed creatures he’d encountered thus far were purely the latter.
One of the hunters was crouched at the base of the tree, prodding the end of his spear into the loosened soil. Desmond became aware of the odd, yellowed color of the objects protruding.
“There are remains here,” the hunter announced. “Looks to be four bodies—maybe more. I can’t tell how deep it goes.”
“The craftsman?” Chereth asked.
Desmond’s mind raced to connect to the letter they had received two days ago, scrawled in hurried strokes across the parchment. There was a grim sort of way Chereth said it, as though he had suspected along the journey they might not be quick enough to prevent his entanglement with the beast.
“You think the monster got to him?” Desmond asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck. Oftentimes, newbloods weren’t supposed to speak to Druid Chereth unless spoken to.
Chereth gave him an odd look, the corners of his mouth upturned in a grim smile. “Did you not find it curious that the man was able to provide such detail in his haste? Right down to the very glade we were to investigate.”
He gestured around them, at the carnage tattering the forest ground.
Desmond’s blood chilled. “He was entangled with the beast,” he said quietly.
