Page 127 of Fires of the Forsaken
I stood, breath rattling in and out of my lungs, as I surveyed the scene around me. They were down. All of ‘em. Not all dead but dying. Or paralyzed. The only creatures left moving were me, the Púca, and…
“Cheriour!”
36
Lamex
It was the tree that woke me in the wee hours of the morning.
I’m well aware that trees arenon-centient—non-sentient beings, incapable of thought, rather rational or irrational. But there was, and still is, a part of me that believes the tree had attempted to warn me of approaching danger.
A twig snapped and fell, landing beside my left ear. It sounded like a whiplash in the otherwise quiet wood.
For a moment, while I remained in the disorientating stage between dreaming and waking, I imagined myself back at Detha, listening to the crack of a Wraith’s whip. Until I opened my eyes and stared at a foggy sky. The air was cold enough to turn my breath to smoke.
My fever had broken during the night, but my muscles were still raw. My stomach was unsettled—especially when I heard the voices in the wind.
“I ‘eard it was Seruf,” a man said.
“Seruf?” Another exclaimed. “Have you lost your senses? The message said it was achild.”
“Aye, but Seurf is quite small, isn’ she?”
“How would you know? You’ve never seen her.”
“Old man Rogers has. And ‘e swears Seruf is small enough to pass for a child.”
“Rogers? That man don’t see anything that’s not directly under his nose. It’s not Seruf, you bloody dolt.”
I rose and immediately tensed when my belly sloshed and rumbled.
Leaves crunched underfoot as the men drew closer.
“What if Seruf went and made ‘erself a ‘ybrid?” one asked.
His companion scoffed.
“And ye think it’s only Raphael who’s capable of creating ‘ybrid?”
“No. But Ramiel and his lot have Wraiths. Why would Seruf weaken her power to give it to a human girl?”
“To trick us,” the man said darkly.
I needed to leave.
My legs trembled and the sloshing sensation in my belly made it nearly impossible to move.
Salivia—saliva filled my mouth as a deep, foul-tasting hiccup rose from my chest.
“Oi! Darragh!” One of the men shouted. “It’s ‘er.”
I glanced over my shoulder. But the men were nowhere to be seen.
“Where?” The second man huffed.
“Ye’ll see her in a moment. Quickly. She’s workin’ up the strength to run.”
I bit my lip, swallowed against the increasingly rotten flavor coating my throat, and stood, calling upon my trembling legs to give me all the strength they possessed.
