Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

31.3 Fight

The brightest thing amid the folds of hedges is the white of Darcell's eyes.

"I thought you were going to let it eat me." He gasps.

I gulp. "So did I."

A war cry explodes behind us and as one we turn, running through the hedge as the beast tears into it behind us. The susurrus of my skirts on the walls is muted. I'm reminded of running through them with Darcell before. The night, the leaves, the glimpses of bright hair are all the same but my wound is a dull ache in my side, wet even through layers of fabric.

I huff, checking the rest of my torso is still intact, that I haven't become zombified somewhere in this mad process. I think I'm alive for now.

With the pain trying fractionally to return I decide now is a good time to ask, "Where are we going?"

"Trying to find the advance group." Darcell says, voice raspy with effort. I clench my fists, realising that I left the dagger in the monsters eye socket. Unarmed with a murderous beast after me. That's the way I like it, I think sarcastically.

Where are you? I send to Finley, letting the words echo in that empty space, calling on the weird bond I don't understand.

The reply is filled with the fluttering of relief, echoed in my own throat. I'm fine. Following the trailing group. You?

Ahead of it somewhere. I send. The trepidation of our situation sets my teeth on edge. Between the trailing and advance groups... Right now I wouldn't mind being behind the Huntsmen parties.

A crash rocks the ground behind us. That giant beast is still carving a path through the hedges.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be good at this?" I gasp, trying to cover my anxiety.

Darcell shakes his head before me. "It's too fast. They're- we need to surround it."

I shake my head in return. Some lot of good these people will be at protecting humans. My adrenaline begins to churn and stab at my lungs. Two Huntsmen wave at us from a cross road of hedgepaths up ahead. My heart chills further. The one on the left is that same one, with the twisted lip and curly hair.

Oh shit. I bail out through wall of the hedge, tearing through several more layers of my gown. But there's a lot more important than gowns.

I stagger through the garden beds, gazing up at the giant tree I've become so familiar with these past couple of weeks. No one bursts from the hedge behind me and so I stumble under its canopy, gathering my skirt up to my side. I'm about to lean my dizzy head against the trunk when a different my head explodes with sound once more.

An enormous bird-lion crushes the hedge across from me, howling at the sky. I freeze against the tree trunk, praying that the shadow will hide me. Please don't see me.

But its head circles the air as it runs, gaining speed as its claws swivel towards me. Fuck.

My everything drains down into my sandals and I scramble up the tree, even as it shivers in the wake of the beast's hopping gait.

I scramble into my usual spot when it slams into the trunk. I wrap both arms and legs around the branch, secure as it rattles. The griffon is a dark nexus below me, haloed by its rippling crest. Primeval fear spreads its dark wings inside me. The fear of the hunted.

Where are these bloody Huntsmen?

I can't see anything through the nest of foliage so I reach to see through Finley's eyes. I see a line of Huntsmen from behind, approaching a giant tree. I sag against the branch in relief.

The creature thrashes against the trunk below me. It doesn't seem to notice the Huntsmen approaching from the side. I scramble farther out on my branch, poking my head out through the foliage. Huntsmen circle the tree, a bristling half-circle of grappling hooks and swords.

I wait for them to advance, but they hold their ground, exercising their weapons on the empty air. I peer back down, and the beast is pacing around the perimeter of the canopy, deflected from one edge by a volley of arrows, another by a slash of swords.

Then I realise the strategy. They're using the tree as a cage. Shit. And I'm inside it.

Trapped, the swirl of feathers below looks up. A drop of blood falls from my waist, tumbling into the darkness. It lands on the griffon's beak. My blood.

Finley! I'm in the tree!

Climb! I get a disorientating image of hedges flying past. An explosion of yelling has me withdrawing back to myself.

It starts to climb. Oh shit, it can climb. Like a mountain lion, even limping from its injuries. How is it doing that?

Because I hurt. Every movement is sending spasms through my torso. But I stand anyway, reaching up. Wedging knees on the next branch and the next. The whole tree is alive beneath me, reacting to every move of the griffon's.

Claws rake into the trunk beside my head. I scramble higher, red spots blossoming behind my eyelids. I'm close to the end, I know.

I look down. Metal glints under the canopy. The Huntsmen are on the ground.

I look up. Is that light? Feyflies? Chanting?

I shake my head, clutching my side. I must be losing consciousness.

"Nadanadanadanadananadana."

"Help!" I ask desperately. I climb another branch. It bends under my weight. Sways from the beast's movement.

The feyflies rush down, blinding me in their passage. A golden stream that I lean forward to follow. The griffon is lit up in shiny contrast, every bristle brilliant. One eye is a gouged black hole, the other a golden iris, pupil dilating as it careens backwards to shake off the blinding creatures.

It's tilted to fall, forelegs flailing away from the tree and that's where I see the opening.

I leap for the trunk, swirling around it like pole. And then I drop, flying down through the air between the leaves. My feet plant onto the creature's chest. The back legs release and its falling too, spread eagled below me. Branches crack and it tumbles, this way, that. I hold on to nothing and pray.

The ground greets me with blackness.