Crossroads and the Dominion of Four Page 8

  “Excuse me. Uh, I’m sorry. For some reason, it’s really hard for me to focus right now. You want me to pull leaves because…” Shayna stammered.

  “The leaves of the black currant will slow down the progression of the boils. They must not form any pus or change shades. Avoid any leaves that are showing signs of mildew or those absent of berries,” said Rileau flatly. He huffed and shook his head. “You are wasting time for everyone!”

  Suddenly, Rileau jerked around and stared off into the distance. Shayna had heard it too—the sound of loud screaming. It radiated above the trees. Without question, it was Seneca. It was a shriek that signaled she was under a dangerous attack. Each audible word that followed the screams had Jake’s name attached to it. There was no mistake; they were together and in the midst of battling something fearful. The hairs on Shayna’s arms stood on end.

  She reached out to Rileau but stopped before making contact and withdrew her hand. She thought she saw smoke escaping from his nostrils, but she quickly dismissed it. She assumed her eyes were playing some sort of trick on her.

  “That’s Seneca! We need to help her—and Jake!” she yelled.

  “It’s not for you to intervene. You shall do as I say and tend to Conner,” he snapped. “You have not followed through with the directive you’ve already been assigned. How can you expect to take on more?”

  Shayna knew she needed to give Conner her attention and not question Rileau’s command. She frantically tore off leaves from the branches.

  “Is this enough?” She held up two handfuls of the leaves and shook them inches from his face. Her arms trembled.

  “That should be sufficient. Now place them on Conner’s arm, and hold them firmly. Do not release your grasp,” Rileau said. “You are to continue applying pressure no matter what happens next. You must not release until I return. Is that understood?”

  Rileau didn’t wait for a response. He turned and ran toward the distant screams. Shayna watched him skillfully move through the brush and effortlessly leap over fallen branches and tree stumps. She felt hopeful that he would be able to defeat whatever was attacking the others. As long as she could hear Seneca’s screams, she knew Seneca was still alive. She wished she knew for sure if Jake and Seneca were fighting off the poison-spitting faeries or murkgoblins. She felt guilty that she wasn’t there to help fight.

  “Snap out of it, Shayna! Put those leaves on already—one of the pimply things is turning colors,” Conner said hoarsely. He gawked at his arm and then closed his eyes.

  “Okay, just hold still. Rileau said I have to keep pressure on your arm,” Shayna whispered as she pressed down hard with several layers of leaves.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  “Funny how you’re suddenly coherent enough to boss me around,” she said flatly.

  She pressed the leaves directly on the raised boils. Green pus secreted from beneath the compress and rolled down his arm. It dripped into the dirt and sizzled upon contact. Shayna scrunched her noise. The smell was rancid.

  “That is some funky stuff. Ick!” she said as she turned her head away. She wished for a free hand to hold her nose or fan the air.

  Conner howled in pain, which made her quickly dismiss her own discomfort.

  “Sorry about that. I guess I’ve smelled worse—like fur-lined boots that have been worn without socks. Now, that is pretty foul and—”

  “Get them off! Take them off now! It burns!” shrieked Conner. He attempted to jerk away, but Shayna held on tightly.

  “I can’t, Conner. You heard what Rileau said. I just can’t!”

  “It hurts really bad, like so unbelievably bad,” he whined.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered repeatedly.

  Shayna began humming and cooing to him as if he were a small child. She tried hard to block out his moans and focused on rocking him as she held the wad of leaves firmly on the blisters. She knew her friend was in pain, but she would not risk losing him, especially when she realized she could no longer hear Seneca screaming. The only sounds she heard came from Conner as he whimpered quietly next to her. She felt warm tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare wipe them, as she refused to lessen the pressure on the leaf compress.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Mentor

  Seneca knew she had to return. Jake needed her, so there was no other choice. She couldn’t abandon him. She didn’t know how she could possibly help, but she had to try. She could feel the blood still trickling from the gashes beneath her wings. She cringed at the thought of her wings being shredded—she knew that had been the creatures’ intent. She didn’t want the fear to consume her, but she was dreadfully afraid. She inhaled deeply and whispered, “You can do this, Seneca. Get a grip. Just do something—anything!”

  Gradually, she began to relax. Her hand found the opening of her pocket. She slid her hand inside and felt the warmth of the stone beneath her fingertips. She clasped it and raised it to her face. It had saved her in the cavern from nearly drowning and had revealed her wings for the first time. Could the stone be the answer she sought? She wondered if it could somehow help rescue Jake. Without warning, a deep and booming voice called up to her from below.

  “Seneca, do not use the Stone of Fate! Put it away, and stay put until I call for you!”

  “Who said that?” she whispered, searching the ground below. It was too dark to make out anything other than the trees. She saw no obvious movement as she circled in hopes of finding the source.

  I am here to help. Jake is in grave danger. Do not intervene! he commanded in a bellowing tone.

  Seneca’s head ached; his presence was forceful. He had shifted to communicating telepathically. Great, yet another mind reader, she thought. She realized the intruder in her thoughts would likely pick up on her disgruntled attitude. She shifted her attention to his message.

  “Who are you?” she shouted into the night air. She knew it wasn’t necessary to speak out loud, but she felt compelled.

  I am Rileau, and I am your mentor. We will be acquainted soon enough. You must not return to this battle. I will address it, he said sternly. You are not prepared to handle this! Do not speak aloud again—it is too dangerous.

  “But—” She decided to remain quiet. He had already chastised her, and she didn’t want to make things worse. She knew he was speaking the truth. Her ability to help was grim at best. She had suffered too much and was traumatized. Seneca began circling over the battleground below, and although she couldn’t see anything, she suddenly felt hopeful. She focused on the notion that Jake would survive with the help of their mentor. The more she thought about it, the better she felt. She was confident he would emerge as the victor. She refused to let any doubt vanquish that belief. The skirmish beneath her suddenly grew louder. She rationalized that Rileau had arrived, and a fierce fight was under way.

  “Help him, Rileau,” she pleaded softly. She hoped her voice carried to his ears below, since she didn’t dare shout. She resisted the urge to fly closer.

  Rileau entered the glen undetected. He determined it would be detrimental to address Jake before engaging in battle. The murkgoblins had Jake’s arms pinned to a large beech tree; its canopy covered most of the area around it.

  Jake had endured countless hits and tears to his torso, but the way they restrained him was agonizing. They pulled his arms tightly around the base of the tree. He felt ligaments being stretched away from his shoulder sockets. It took every ounce of his fading strength not to scream. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He wondered if they used the beech tree specifically for dismembering enemies. Jake knew his time was short. He would not be able to hold on much longer. The pain was overwhelming.

  Rileau surveyed the bodies spread about; they remained motionless in various positions. It was evident Jake had put up a great fight and had successfully tussled several of them into submission. Those t
hat took on the task of restraining him were also engaged in taunting. The others clawed at his exposed skin and intermittently kicked and punched at his midsection.

  Rileau eased in closer, and the murkgoblins snapped their heads around upon sensing his approach. The two that were inflicting most of the clawing turned and faced him. They hissed and snarled in preparation to protect their captive prey. The remaining two tightened their grip around Jake. Jake swallowed hard to suppress a scream.

  “Jake, you are fixed to the elements that are inherent to you. You must use your natural powers of protection now!” Rileau commanded.

  “But how?” Jake moaned. He could feel himself drifting into unconsciousness. His knees were weak, and he slumped. The murkgoblins held him fixed to the tree; they did not allow him to fall. They took turns pummeling him in his chest and stomach. The others did an effective job of not allowing Rileau to get close enough to rescue him. They swung at him with their bark-like arms, threatening each approach with their jagged claws.

  “It is within you!” Rileau bellowed as he grabbed the horns of an advancing murkgoblin that came within his reach. “Concentrate, Jake!”

  Rileau tossed the creature high into a tree. It hit and broke several limbs as it came crashing down and landed on a wide branch. It was there that the murkgoblin found its final resting place. It didn’t move from the straddled position as its arms and legs hung lifelessly over the sides of the branch. Rileau readied for any subsequent attacks.

  “Come on, Jake!” he yelled.

  “I can’t,” Jake moaned, and then he blacked out as a blow connected to his right temple.

  His captors released their hold and allowed him to collapse into the slush beneath his feet. Considering him no longer a threat, the murkgoblins turned their attention to Rileau. He beckoned them to approach, and they complied by rushing him from all sides with claws extended. He withdrew a staff from beneath his cloak and grasped it with both hands. He advanced on the closest murkgoblin and knocked it off its feet. It scrambled to regain its footing just in time to meet the rod with the side of its face. It crawled away instead of attempting another attack. Each assault was met with a dose of excruciating pain.

  The murkgoblins were unwavering in their raid against Rileau, but each one was made to suffer. With succinct timing, he struck them down hard one after another. Each one either retreated or lay injured in the spot they were hit with no ability to recover. The murkgoblins’ leader remained on the sideline as it witnessed each of its minions being slaughtered. It snarled with condemnation for their failure and then moved into the fray to take on Rileau. It lowered its head and charged with its horns aimed at Rileau’s torso.

  Rileau did not move; he held his position. A split second before the moment of impact, he swiftly pulled his staff high above his head. Simultaneously, with his other hand, he reached out and grabbed the horns of the unsuspecting attacker. With a swift swing, he severed the horns from the beast’s head and held the horns high in the air. It crumpled to the ground and whimpered in defeat.

  He turned in a slow rotation to display the twisted horns of the defeated leader. He dropped them and then smashed them beneath his boot. There was no retaliation from the underlings and no debate as to who was the victor. Rileau smirked as the few remaining murkgoblins scurried away. He made sure there were no deceptive ones hiding in the brush before making his way to Jake’s mangled body.

  “I suppose it was too much to ask for you to just use your powers, eh?” Rileau whispered. He picked up Jake and tossed him over his shoulder. Jake was motionless and barely breathing.

  “We need to get to Seneca before I revive you,” Rileau said. He was aware that Jake was unresponsive, but he was also aware that Seneca was now attuned to what was transpiring. His words were meant more for her than Jake. “I’ve got him. Meet us in the clearing,” he called up to her.

  Seneca let out a heavy sigh. She abided and immediately descended just as Rileau stepped away from Jake. He had placed him on a mound of soft moss.

  “Is he okay? Jake, are you all right?” she called out as she ran over and sat beside him. He groaned slightly but didn’t open his eyes. “What’s wrong with him? Is he going to be okay?” Seneca scrambled to find the words she dreaded speaking. “Is he going to die?” she asked as she looked up into the stranger’s eyes. Had she been mistaken to put her faith in someone she didn’t know? Had he gotten there too late? She pleaded with her eyes for answers.

  “He will be fine. He just needs a bit of recovery time,” said Rileau. “He suffered greatly, as they intended, but it appears the crystals may have aided him.”

  “Do Himalayan crystals have healing elements?” Seneca asked as she tried wiping some dirt and blood away from Jake’s face.

  “I am told that no one knows the extent of the powers that may evolve from their consumption,” he said. “I was able to assist mildly, but there are other factors that may counter my intervention.”

  “What exactly are you saying?” Seneca asked.

  “It is unimportant. He will heal, and that is all that matters,” Rileau replied.

  “I thought he was—I mean, I was hoping he wasn’t, you know. I was just scared.” Seneca struggled to make sense of it all. Who was this stranger, and was he to be trusted?

  “You should adjust your thinking. Death is not to be feared,” Rileau said. He pulled his shoulders back and held his chin up.

  Seneca realized she hadn’t introduced herself. She didn’t know what to make of this person who had just swooped in and saved Jake. She stood up to get a better look at him. The sky was clear, and the moon cascaded brightly across the open glen.

  “As you already know, I’m Seneca,” she said, extending her delicate hand out to him, and he bowed in response and smiled. “I feel like we’ve met before, but I guess that’s impossible.”

  “Indeed, Lady Seneca, your arrival has been anticipated,” he said. “However, I have not made your acquaintance. I would have recalled such an encounter.”

  “My understanding is that it’s all about the prophecies.” She made no attempt to hide her disapproval.

  “That is certainly a factor,” he replied. “We must join the others as soon as Jake is stable enough for travel.”

  “So then, you know where Conner and Shayna are?” she asked anxiously. “Are they okay?” She feared the worst and bit her lip in preparation of hearing bad news.

  “They are not without strife, as they met with the misfortune of not escaping the fairies of the Terrain,” he said. “Conner is being tended to by Shayna, but they are not in a safe place.”

  “Conner’s hurt?” asked Seneca. “How bad is it?” Her eyes widened.

  She could feel her heart racing. There was too much happening around her to keep calm. She commanded herself to breathe. She shook and flexed her hands feverishly to get the feeling back. Her fingers were completely numb.

  “If Shayna complies with what I charged her to do, then he will survive,” he said impassively.

  “Shayna’s not hurt?”

  “No, she is quite well in spite of her loss,” he replied. “Regretfully, Dreya did not survive the attack.”

  Before the gravity of his declaration could set in, Seneca realized Jake was standing beside her. He had taken her hand and held it firmly. His expression let her know he had heard it all. He allowed her to lean into his chest as she wept quietly. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes in contemplation. They stood there for a few moments without exchanging any words.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “I was so scared you wouldn’t survive.”

  “Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure either,” Jake said.

  He knew the stranger standing a few feet away had saved him. He didn’t recall much, but he was sure he wouldn’t have survived if the man had not arrived when he had. Seneca resisted the urge to hug him, as
it was clear he was in a lot of pain. She released his hand and touched his cheek. It was one of the only areas that hadn’t been marred.

  Jake tried to smile as he rubbed the area where his ribs ached. He cringed when he inadvertently touched an exposed wound. His shirt had been ripped to shreds and was caked in blood and mud. While he was battered and bruised, he felt a sense of relief. He had been saved.

  “Thanks for showing up when you did. I’m Jake, by the way,” he said, extending his hand. Rileau shook it with a firm grip and grabbed Jake’s forearm as well. It caused him to wince slightly, but he didn’t complain.

  “It is my honor to meet you, Jake. I am Rileau.” His voice was deep, and he spoke in a formal tone.

  “He’s our mentor,” Seneca said.

  “Mentor? Well, thanks again for helping me out. What were those things?” Jake asked. He was thankful he was beginning to feel steady on his feet. His movements were not as painful, and he could breathe without discomfort.

  “They are murkgoblins. They are absent of admiration by all elementals—at least by those that are not interested in doing Brigara’s bidding.”

  “Brigara told them to attack us?” Seneca said. She wiped her tears, and her angst turned quickly to rage.

  “It is highly probable,” Rileau answered with a furrowed brow. “Although I emphasize that it does not take much to provoke an attack from a murkgoblin.”

  “But, it’s plausible. Brigara could have made them go after us,” Jake said. “Just like those acid-spitting gnats!”

  “It is evident that she has already begun to use her influence and is likely to continue,” said Rileau.

  “She’s not wasting time—that’s for sure!” said Seneca.

  “Which means we must do the same,” he said. “Jake, are you fit enough to travel?”

  “Sure—I think so. I feel kind of weird, but I’m fine.” He looked down at his multiple abrasions and lacerations. “My skin seems to be healing really fast.”

  “That is to be expected. We need to move now,” said Rileau. “The castle is not too far from here, but we must take the terrain that is less occupied. It is highly probable that the direct route is being watched. We must avoid any further battle engagement before you are ready.”