Into the Deep Wood

The heavy mace came crashing down with a sudden, delicate crunch, followed by a squelching as the insides of the creature’s head went splattering about.

“They’re getting s-quirly.” Yaro observed, wiping his brow free of sweat.

The Ember Sword dislodged his blade from a shriveled, hardened body at his feet.

“Something is agitating them.” He said, carefully wiping the blood off on the grass. “I don’t think it’s us. I haven’t seen this many in this short of a time, maybe ever.”

“We ought to s-tart keeping count.” Yaro smiled, showcasing his gapped-tooth mouth. “I’d put good money on it.”

“Loser buys.” The Ember Sword nodded as if a deal of the century had been struck.

They’d made good time, but it seemed that something had crawled out of the trees or a hole in the ground every step along the way.

The first time they’d stopped, a Psotnik went through their bags and very inconveniently stole every single one of their socks. It seemed that he trailed them still because on the second night, he’d taken the prongs out of both their belts and stuffed dirt inside of Yaro’s tobacco pouch.

“It doe-s feel good to be out here again.” Yaro clenched his fists and took the deepest breath he had in months. “On-ce a hunter, forever a hunter.”

“I’ve heard people say that.” The Ember Sword grinned.

Unless the Deep Wood shifted, they’d only be a day away from its edge. The trip had reminded him of a time long ago when he, as another man, had hunted alongside his brother.

He’d had a love for it once. For the minor setbacks, the life-threatening creatures the size of mice, and the rituals of the forest. Everything here worked in chaos and in systematic order all at once. Some of the wood had demanded respect, the other force. In a way, it had been easier there. The ways of men were unpredictable and cruel, but the Deep Wood knew only to feed.

But still, it had not been the same since Val. Nothing had.

Not since the very day that he saw the scrawny, half-starved girl atop the stoop of the Hag’s hut.

There was no coming back from hacking the Hag’s head off; there was no crossing the threshold of the forests until she had been caught. From Korschey’s palace, her influence on the woods was weak - if at all.

Yet, somehow, she still had influence over Val - even long after the fact. She’d reached out and took something precious from Val. From him. Even from so far.

He felt his heart clench.

Think of something else. Gods, anything else.

“Yuck.” Somewhere above them came a noise that sounded almost like a word.

Both their heads snapped up, each gripping a little tighter onto their weapon.

“Ear-s,” Yaro said suddenly.

The other man hurried to grab the beeswax from his bag, and Yaro quickly produced a wad of mystery hair from his pocket. The men divided both.

“Don’t bother. I am not eating either of you.” Came from the trees.

“What do you think?” The Ember Sword said quietly.

“S-oloveyka? S-irin? A tree climber?” Yaro mused.

“Too mean for Soloveyka. Too well-spoken for a tree climber.” The Ember Sword observed. “It’s almost certainly a Sirin.”

“I should feel insulted that you would even have to guess, Deathbringer.” Something disturbed the branches, and a flash of red and blue moved among them. “But you are too large to be smart anyway.”

“We don’t have bow-s,” Yaro whispered.

“Keep it talking. It wants something else. It would have sung by now. Stay close.” The Ember Sword shifted until the men were elbow to elbow.

“I got curious.” The tree announced. “You smell different. Not necessarily in a pleasant way.”

“How-s that?” Yaro called back as the Ember Sword searched through the red-bearded man’s pack hoping to find a ward to make them disgusting to the creature.

“Not you.” The bird’s wings flapped and she perched on a high-up branch, the entirety of its body visible now. “Couldn’t lift you if there were five of me. The Deathbringer. The ugly one.”

“Ah.” Yaro grinned, “It-s you s-he like-s.”

“You are somehow familiar yet–” Sirin started.

“What do you want?” The Ember Sword cut her off.

“Interrupting doesn’t win you friends, Ugly One.” She huffed and carefully flew to a slightly lower branch. “What do you have?”

The Ember Sword glanced at Yaro, who shrugged.

“Dry deer meat?” Yaro called back.

“You smell like death. You carry it with you.” Sirin said, ignoring Yaro entirely. “I wish to know why.”

“We’ve killed many since we entered.”

“No.” She bobbed her head. “You both reek of that. Why do you smell like that?”

“What-s s-he going on about?” Yaro whispered. “You s-hit your-self?”

“Speak on equal ground or not at all!” The Ember Sword called back.

“So you can try and drive that sword through me, Ugly One? Maybe you’d fall for such a trick if you were me.”

“We got bread,” Yaro said.

This seemed to interest Sirin, and she scooted to the edge of the branch.

“You’ve won favor, Red One. You’re much more pleasant than the Ugly One. Leave it down there and pass. Do not turn back, and walk west. The forest lies.”

Yaro looked at the Ember Sword with a raised eyebrow.

“Tru-st?” He whispered.

The other man nodded.

“She gives direction. She wants us to leave.”

Yaro pulled the carefully wrapped flatbread from his pack and set it at his feet. Both men walked forward, keeping their eyes on the bird-woman. In turn, she floated down to the ground when they were far enough, fiddling with the paper wrapping. Just before they disappeared from view, she turned to them, crumbs flying with each word.

“You were sought once!” She called. “Til shadows claimed the footsteps you left behind.”

As they kept walking faster, Yaro turned to him.

“What’s s-he mean?”

The Ember Sword shook his head, not taking his eyes off the path.

“They’re dramatic birds. Can never leave without a last word.”

“Bukavac crap.” Yaro announced. He was holding up his boot and examining the sticky, dark substance plastered over the sole. “We near a s-wamp?”

The Ember Sword tensed his hand over the blade at his side.

“Is it fresh?”

“...fairly.” Yaro wiped it on a root. “What a time not to have s-ocks.”

“Want to find it?”

“Ah!” Yaro’s face lit up. Something very alive stirred behind his eyes. “What about thi-s whole war thing?”

“You can make Batyr a nice girdle from its spine.”

They found the lizard-like creature not too far, where the ground began to give way to the swamplands hidden all throughout the Deep Wood. Its six legs were wrapped around a large tree trunk, it's great weight making the wood creak beneath it. Its crooked and knotted horns had bits of moss and swamp slime hanging throughout.

It was easily the size of a horse. Unfortunately, it had been positioned far above the ground - they could sneak up on it, but without arrows, it would be tough.

“I’ll go high.” The Ember Sword told the red-bearded man in a hushed tone. The man nodded, his eyes full of glee, and retreated into the shadows of a weeping willow’s branches. The Ember Sword noted that for a man of Yaro’s size, he had moved with remarkable nimbleness. He wondered what he had been like in his prime.

He slowly crept up the impossibly thick trunk of a bald cypress tree to where the Bukavac was resting. The creature was deathly still, its presence completely silent among the sounds of the forest. The scales along its body glistened as its sides rose and fell. Such scales once brought in a good profit. But it was truly the horns that had been highly sought after. From them were shaped daggers that could cut through glass and always remained cool to the touch.

What he had to do was get high enough to reach its mouth. There, behind rows upon rows of teeth, were the deadly vocal cords of the beast. Its bite would not have been so bad, but its rabid scream could render a man frozen in place. It stunned its prey and dragged it into the lake, if not yet dead it would not take long to drown.

He saw Yaro out of the corner of his eye. The man nodded, Anushka ready to smash the beast’s head should the Ember Sword send it crashing down.

The beast shifted its weight, making a soft scraping noise against the wood. It did not have time even to turn its head when he jumped, catching an arm on the very same branch, and lodged his sword into its throat.

Missing the utmost vital part.

The sound it had produced was muddled with a gargle of blood but nevertheless sent Yaro bending to the ground, his hands over his ears. An old hunter's trick, wax-rolled hair or cloth stuffed in them still did not block out the full of it.

And, the Ember Sword had been too close for it to have mattered anyway.

It sent him flying down, only by a miracle landing on his hands and feet. Its six feet came scrambling down the trunk, its monstrous head coming first and snapping with its jaws.

The very second it stepped its two front legs upon land, Yaro’s mace came crashing down at the back of its neck where it had met the spine. A hollow thack and sharp snapping of bones - the creature’s broken body twisted up - and again, it let out a paralyzing howl. Yaro stumbled, and it wrapped its remaining four working legs around his torso - throwing itself into the waters.

Kicking dirt as he launched off after them, the Ember Sword caught the very tail of the creature in his hand. Bringing the other up as he hit the water, he opened its torso right below where it held the big man. Blue-green blood came gushing out as both it and Yaro disappeared under the surface.

It was only a moment, enough for the Ember Sword to ready himself to dive into the freezing water, that Yaro reappeared, huffing and spitting as he struggled to swim to a shallower end.

“My brother, you may need to lose some weight.” The Ember Sword told Yaro, reaching to help the man barely keeping himself above the surface.

“Weight –my a-ss!” The big man gasped out. He stood when it became shallow enough, grabbing the Ember Sword’s arm. As he climbed out, it became apparent that his other one still gripped the creature by its tail. The two men struggled to drag the entirety of it out of the water. They collapsed on the ground, breathing hard. Yaro’s expression was wild.

“Ah! If only the water nympth could s–ee me now - would an ‘old catfi-sh rectum’ be able to do that??” He laughed with his entire body, his belly shaking and drops of swamp water flying off.

“I’ve got bad news, my brother.” The Ember Sword sighed, kicking the Bukavac with his foot.

“I think you broke it too far back. There’s no way its spine will fit Batyr now.”