The Lady Penitent

XX. The Horned King

                  

Holland took a deep breath of the earthy, moist air. It had been more than a month since they left the mountains and the world they had entered was a primordial one, filled with black forests and endless marshland. The road was as wild as it could get and still constitute a road, tangled briars and trees often crowding so close to the trail that they could barely see five feet off it in either direction. The ground was frequently soft and muddy, sometimes deep enough that Holland worried for the horses. Bugs were a constant problem, particularly little biting gnats. Khagra, fortunately, had some kind of lotion that kept them away. There was not a sign of civilization for countless miles in every direction. No wonder the Năluci had sought refuge in the wetlands: even for the Imperium, marching an army through the area would be impossible. A heron called off to their left, stalking majestically through the water. They had not seen other people for weeks, not since they left the Long Walk for this road at Khagra's advising. As miserable as camping in the damp was, however, Holland doubted they would have to worry about pursuit.

They had made camp on the driest scrap of ground they had been able to find, beneath trees shrouded in long, dangling moss. Ardashir was cursing to himself as he tried to find anything dry enough to light. They were out of oil to pour on the wood to coax a flame.

"We can eat it cold," Vladan said. "I don't know why you're so adamant on fire."

"It keeps the animals away," Khagra said with a shrug. "And, though you may not feel it with your beast-blood, the chill sets in once the sun goes down."

After a few more minutes of struggling with the flint and steel, Ardashir sighed and leaned back on his heels. "I can't get it," he said, defeated. "Even the kindling is too wet. It's going to be a miserable night."

"We'll survive," Holland said as she checked Maël's hooves. She had to scrape the caked mud away to get a good look. It was probably for the best that she hadn't burdened him with barding when they left Tamaris—the poor horse would have been miserable. Fortunately, he and Ardashir's horse were now well accustomed to Zajar as a friendly creature, so they didn't have to worry about bolting when the drake crashed down through the overgrowth to greet them.

"Pity dragons don't breathe fire," Vladan said as the drake curled up on the road at the edge of camp, his head resting under his leathery wing. "You lot can sleep with him, though. Ought to keep you warm."

"Better him than you," Khagra said, though she kept her tone light. All of them were a little bit frayed at the moment, but she knew better than to snap. It was just exhaustion. Trudging through the mud wore on all of them.

Ardashir pulled out their rations, which were almost nonexistent. They were foraging as they went, operating off Khagra's knowledge and Ardashir's skill as a hunter, but it meant more often than not they went to bed with stomachs that were not quite full. None of them complained, particularly since they weren't expending vast amounts of energy in combat, but that didn't change the fact that it was unpleasant. "It's strange that we still haven't encountered any Năluci," he said. It usually fell to Ardashir and Vladan to make conversation, as Khagra was content with the silence after long periods of time on her own and Holland's hazel eyes were focused on the distance more often than them as she listened to a voice no one else could hear.

Holland knew they were all worried about her. The Calling was intensifying. Deus's voice was almost a constant now. He did not restrict Himself to the times where she was sleeping any longer. It exhausted her more than the road did, in all honesty. So far, the black shard hadn't been able to disturb her comrades, at least to the best of her knowledge, which was a small blessing. If anyone was going to be corrupted and destroyed by it, she preferred that it be her. "They must know we're here," the penitent said, rubbing at her eyes. She felt like she had been worn too thin, but she kept moving anyway, even if it was almost mechanical at this point.