Book 5, Chapter 3: A Problem In The Canopy
It annoyed me that I hadn’t opened Etienne’s satchel, read through whatever was in it. I needed to. The sooner the better. It was like a too thin crystal champagne glass sitting on the counter, waiting to be broken. I’d accidentally leave it behind or be attacked by mages and get it destroyed or fall into a river and it’d become unreadable. I really, really needed to sit down and read the damn thing.
But I didn’t.
I was therefore annoyed at myself as I continued along this path heading roughly north. Walking and walking.
There was no reason not to open it. It’s not like I had amazing conversationalists to chat with, though the foxes did bark, cough, and yip interestingly enough. And the ravens cawed, the crows too, with variations of quieter avian communication going on that I most certainly could not translate, proving that I was not the god of corvids.
Soon, I was going uphill, following a path along a little stream. The water crashed into stones, over pebbles, making an almost silver tinkling sound as it splashed along its merry way. Tiny waterfalls led to little pools where fish darted here and there, from one hiding place to a better one, assuming my footsteps were the forewarnings of predators about to pounce.
Maybe it was true. Many foxes took a keen interest in the creek and one by one they stopped for a quick sip. And their actions made me thirsty, so I opened my pack, found my water jug and drank a bit. It was warm.
But I could deal with that! Why didn’t I think of it earlier? No idea. I slowed the molecules, chilling the water, and enjoyed a cold mouthful. I’ve berated myself for this before, and I’m sure I’ll do it again, but why do I always think of things after the fact?
My thoughts went bizarre then. I imagined myself still wearing my armor but having cooled it. I could be walking around in a full suit of plate mail, and it would be like being in an air-conditioned room. Except, my imagination then showed me, water would be ever-condensing on the steel, dripping off. People would think my armor was sweating.
In this manner, my mind fluttering from thought to thought, I climbed up and up.
About halfway, the hill smoothed out to a little, hidden meadow, creek slowing and pooling here. Trees ringed the meadow, making it invisible from afar, looking just like any other part of the forest, and inside their ring was a glade of green grass, blue flowers scattered about.
The foxes started acting strangely. One darted in front of my feet, hissing and yipping, then digging fiercely.
I stared at it in wonder. “What are you doing?”
It yipped at me as I took a step forward, almost like it would nip at my ankles.
“Hey! Back off there.”
But it didn’t, just kept making noises.
Looking up and over him to see what the birds were doing, one of my crows tugged to a stop in midair, bounced slightly back and forth. A giant web!
Up in the tree next to the struggling bird, a long, hairy leg about the thickness of a man’s forearm reached out, tentatively touching the web, feeling the vibrations. Its body was hidden by the branches and leaves but had to be huge. It was all I could do to not bolt.
Black crows darted at the leg, squawking loudly, but another leg reached out. And then another crow got caught in the nearly invisible web.
More foxes joined the guy warning me, yipping like crazy, trying to back me up.
“I can’t leave my birds here, guys.” Dropping the flask, I let the energy flow around my body, raised my hand to fire when the sky seemed to vibrate and become blurry, then a bunch of goo landed all over me. As my eyes instinctively closed, the last thing I saw was a man-sized spider dropping down.
Panicking, the energy took over, coursing around me, burning the goo and everything nearby away. The smell of fried insect filled my lungs as the falling spider hit hot plasma and cooked. Opened my eyes to char wafting to the ground.
Up above, the giant spider darted out to the crow – it was so much bigger than the one that attacked me – very quickly and grabbed it in one go. I fired a yellow laser into its body and it fell to the ground, crow and all.
I raced over to it, fires blooming with each step, though I wasn’t about to drop the heat under any circumstances – spiders! – no foxes in sight, they must have darted. The crow was dead, the giant spider’s fangs pierced into it.
Looking up, another spider was dropping toward me. I screamed and turned up the heat. Everything around instantly charred, a bubble of black smoke expanding above me, rising through the canopy, rolling into a mushroom shape as it went.
Nothing was left of the spider. Nearby trees were aflame. I took my time, walking around the meadow and zapping hairy legs and bodies liberally, setting fire to the nests.
The entire meadow was soon a wall of flame. Sparks crackling into the sky as branches caught, twisted, some collapsing. It smelled of pine and charred chitin which, I have to say, is not an enjoyable incense mix.
I slowed the molecules in the burning trees until they smoldered, sending out grey smoke, then cooled further and ceased. The smoke soon drifted upward and away.
Placed my hand against a charred tree, spongy and cold to the touch, which was weird, but entirely my fault. Spiders, why was it always spiders? I shuddered. And, no, I wasn’t about to try getting lunch out of these, blach!
All around me was burnt, ash drifting down, blanketing the grass. Not the lifeless kind Etienne’s spell had made but spent organics. The glade’s trees were blackened on the inner side, the crevasses of coals here and there. I’d marvel at the damage if it wasn’t so horrific.
Taking a step to pass through the glade, keep walking, to put this place behind me, I nearly tripped over something. The skeleton of a canine. Bent over, picked it up, the little guy who tried to warn me. He must have been at my side when I flashed.
I sat down in the soft ground. Staring at the bones. They were burnt and grey. Everything was. The ash yet drifted down around me, a surreal snowfall of death. The mages were right. I was a terror on this world. Too powerful, too dangerous. Perhaps I should just turn myself in, let them deal with me as they would.
A nudge against my leg. “Hey there! I didn’t kill you!”
He bumped his wet nose against me, large black eyes looking at me all worried and let out a whine.
I put down the bones and picked him up, put my face into his fur. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you, but I feel awful for killing your friends. I’m sorry, little guy.”
We sat there for a bit, then a bit longer, and he yipped into my ear. “Alright, yeah. We can go now. We should get going.”
I set him down, stood up. Tried rubbing the dust off my arms, but all I was doing was rubbing it into the leather, so I gave that up. My gambeson was a mess, ash caked into it. Well, a worse mess than before. I probably looked like the walking dead, with grey skin and salt and peppery hair. I wished Maitlan had thought to put soap in the saddle bags he’d given me. Because he didn’t, I picked up a piece of charred wood and rubbed it under my eyes, on my cheeks. Might as well look as post-apocalyptic as possible. Maybe it’d even keep the sun out, like how football players use dark oil under their eyes.
Turning to leave, a little spider stood in front of me. It looked kind of lost, cute even, its large black eyes staring at me. Poor thing no longer had parents and all because of me. Maybe it wanted me to care for it, lead it to safety. It could become one of my entourage.
I fired a laser through its head.
Comments (0)
Please login or sign up to post a comment.