Arc One: Awakening

Chapter 36: Heart of Lucarian

"The road forks in about half a mile," Lysander spoke. "If we take the left track, it brings us straight to the river, but I think there might be a gorge in the way."

Demetrius trotted to catch up and bent over Lysander's shoulder, inspecting the map for himself. How he read it was beyond him, the pallid ink washed out to such an extent that a mere scratch would remove it from the treated leather and dust moth holes peppering the layered fabric. "Where did you find this thing? It looks older than Orenda."

"There aren't a lot of maps in the Phoenix libraries that chart this section Kraken territory," Lysander told him. "This was the best I could get at short notice."

"Did the others have anything on them at all?"

A muttered gripe bristled in the back of his throat. "Left road. Head to the ravine and then the river. Agreed?"

"Is that a ravine?" Demetrius shifted, almost nose to faded print to discern the symbols and the curvature script. "Looks like a mountain range to me."

"No, there's the dip." With a precise fingernail, Lysander pinpointed the plunge in land and steered him onward to an estuary.

"You sure that's a dip?"

As the two argued directions and suspected drops, Oscar pored over the pale trails and monuments on the outline. "Hold the edges tight," he instructed, hovering his palm over the ink and saturating the struggling lines with magic. "Keep it still for a second."

Plucking from his power reserves, he coated the pigment in a regulated heat. Scant sparks exposed the original design, clear channels and divisions sinking in, defined as the day meticulous hands etched them. Whiffs of smoke rallied, and he retracted the spell.

"That's nothing," he shrugged at the two awed expressions. "I've seen professors lift ink from paper and transform it into gold."

"You've definitely made it easier to read," Lysander said, beaming at the renewed precision. "Ah, see! It is a ravine!"

"It's obvious now." Demetrius clicked his tongue as he contemplated their course. "If we head left at the split in the road, but then aim for this trail here, we'd cut out the problem of crossing the gorge."

"Nice catch. It would take us a little off the path, but the forest doesn't seem too dense."

With the map situation resolved and his hosts debating the next steps, Oscar took stock of his environment. Life strained, moss dousing and boughs contorted in glutinous cages like a petal bearing a dew drop. Some of the porous pearls lodged themselves in the trunks, eyes open but dead to the world.

When he mopped the sweat on his cheekbones, the beads broke off sticky. A respiring breeze repeated within the murk as he detached them from his sleeve. Slogged steps skulked in the gloaming shadows and the sparse wind began to stink of decaying fish and stagnant water, rasped, cumbersome wheezes creating the illusion of a natural draught.

Lumbering, lanky legs broke into the scant light, bough-like limbs slinking forward and dozens of crimson eyes blinking simultaneously as though mangled trees had fused and revived.

"Um, what is that?" he hacked, colliding with his companions in his stumble backwards. "Please tell me it's friendly."

Lysander snatched hold of him and stilled his careen. Weapons drew from their holsters slowly and nerves steeled. Neither moved, observing the ungainly obstacle as its flat nose wrinkled to sniff at a tangle of vines and recoil in a shudder.

"We're not in Lumbernix territory," Lysander muttered. "What is that thing doing here?"

"Why don't you ask it?" Demetrius replied, mouth parting at the graceless mass of twitching arms.