Katerin found that the further they went, the tiny droplets of blood sprinkled here and there on the path were her only means of tracking the man. One on a piece of dark green moss, another smeared into tree bark. At one point, she found a tiny indent in the moss, but she was unsure if it was a sign of a trail or not. It took several minutes with Fykes' and Arjiah's help, to puzzle out a vague direction to follow.
Eventually, they found an old, lightning-struck tree. Its bark was gray and weathered, and it still bore scorch marks deep into its trunk. Blood was smeared across it, mixing with the charcoal and smudged as if it had been hastily wiped away.
Arjiah frowned and stepped back to peer up at it.
"Hello? Anyone up there?" Katerin craned her neck back, and silence followed her words. "Hey!" she spoke louder this time. "Anyone alive up there?"
"Are you Sahn-Raidar?" a man asked, his low voice barely carrying over the noises of the forest.
Fykes started and moved toward the tree. His posture changed from tense to relaxed as he heard the rough, cynical voice that spoke to them. "We're friendly," he said, with a small smile.
"Come up. It's nice and cozy," the man replied, with a sigh heavy in his tone.
Fykes hoisted Katerin up the tree in front of him and she grunted as she climbed, giving him a quizzical look.
The hole in the tree held a rather spacious area—for the inside of a tree, that was. It was large enough for at least seven people to stretch out their legs. The newer wood of the upper part of the tree had been burned away. but the older, sap-filled portion had hardened from the heat and left a semi-smooth floor. The walls were smeared with charcoal and blood, and the metallic scent of it permeated the space.
As Katerin crawled up, she heard a cynical bark of laughter.
Lugaria sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him, head leaned back against the tree, with a number of cuts and bruises visible. His leg had a nasty looking knife wound, and more blood stained his side near a long tear in his leather armor. A hasty looking tourniquet was wrapped around his injured leg, and one hand held a large great-sword with a wide blade, splayed out awkwardly to one side. His other arm supported a slender half-elven form who was badly wounded, torso sporting a terrible stab wound, his head rolling awkwardly to one side.
Both were covered in enough blood to leave Katerin wondering how either was still alive. She knew she would not be able to do much for him, with her limited healing ability. She knelt and placed a hand on Lugaria's leg, giving the small amount of healing magic she had. Her mastery over Arjiah's spell was limited at best.
"Help Agrata," Lugaria said, his voice was harsh—almost angry—as he pushed her hand away, nearly sending her sprawling backwards.
"I don't think I can," Katerin said, holding out her hands with a weary expression. She gently moved Agrata and laid him on his back, propping his head on her arms. His face looked so young and unassuming, but his expression was twisted in pain, and his breathing was slow.
Fykes pulled himself through and reached back to grab Arjiah's arm, hauling her up in but a moment.
Katerin laid a hand over a gaping wound in Agrata's side. Blood coated her fingers instantly, soaking through the thick wrap of bandages. She fought to keep her hands from shaking as she incanted her spell—trying to close the wound—with one hand holding steady pressure on it. Then Arjiah was kneeling next to her, and she felt the blood stop flowing over her fingers. She opened her eyes, a shaking breath finally finding its way out of her lungs as she glanced at the person who had endured these terrible wounds.
He lay unconscious, his breathing shallow and weak, but calm. His wounds were mostly closed, now a collection of pink lines and thick, healthy scabs. A small amount of color returned to his face as he slept, though healing like that was taxing for both the caster and the patient, and he would not likely wake up for hours.
Katerin held Agrata's head in her arms, afraid to lift her hands and see them shaking. If it had been only her, this man would have died, and that reality hit her like a stone as she stared at his face. She was snapped from her ruminations as Fykes ripped a clean white linen cloth into pieces and handed one to her.
"Thank you," Lugaria said, watching Agrata sleep with a concerned expression.
Katerin moved into a sitting position and studied the man. He looked so familiar. Even as bloody and dirty as he was, he was still easily confident. "I know you," she said, her forehead creasing. "You're Graiden's guard dog."
He looked at her with a deadpan expression. "And you're the nitwit who threatened my boss."
"I didn't—"
He held up a hand to silence her and watched her flinch, a glare sparking in her eyes.
"I'm glad we found you," Fykes said, offering Lugaria a bottle made of dark glass.
"So why're you all running around the woods?" Lugaria asked, looking them over, his gaze stopping on Katerin. "I take it you didn't find your mother?"
"Not yet... but she's in the forest, somewhere," Katerin said, taking a moment to clean her hands and breathe.
"If she's alone in this forest, she's dead," he said, without any hesitation.
Arjiah looked as though she was going to slap him, and Fykes' expression tightened, lips forming a tight line.
"She's not alone... and she isn't dead," Katerin said, looking right at him, refusing to let him get the better of her fears.
"Running around this forest is a death wish." Lugaria held her gaze with his own. Almost threatening, it was so intense. He gestured around the tree.
"Maybe you aren't as good as you think you are," she told him and watched his eyebrows raise.
"We should camp here, tonight," Fykes said from the side, smiling at the two as they stared each other down. "He found a good place. Nothing can really get at us, it's quiet and sheltered."
"I agree," Arjiah said, placing a hand on Katerin's shoulder, seeing the weariness in her posture. "I'll take care of the warding spell tonight, dear."
Katerin only nodded quietly, sagging back against the tree and closing her eyes, while Fykes rummaged for food and chatted as if nothing in the world was awry. They ate in relative silence, and Agrata slept the whole time with everyone casting furtive glances his way.
The long sunset felt rather short in Katerin's tired haze, and she spent the majority of her evening biting her tongue and reading quietly.
Lugaria sat quietly in the dim light of a spell, with Fykes as his only alert company. "So you're content to just wander around the forest until that girl finds her mother or gets you killed?" he asked, setting the nearly empty bottle down between them.
"Yes." Fykes smiled.
Lugaria scoffed. "Determination and idiocy are a bad combination."
"She's no idiot," Fykes said. "Just a little naive."
"The Uhma'zarhins don't care what she is," Lugaria said, stretching an arm over his head, enjoying the ease of the motion.
Arjiah had refused to leave his wounds alone, instead insisting that Agrata would need his help to make it back home. She was not wrong, he supposed. Now they were healed just enough so that he could keep going, and that was all he had ever needed before.
Fykes shook his head, a half smile curving his lips. "She's the only reason we found you."
"You can't help but try to save the maiden in distress, can you?" Lugaria snorted.
Fykes chuckled. "She isn't in distress. And when she is, she handles it on her own quite well. Maybe you shouldn't be so doubtful." He waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "Why the hell are you out here, anyway? Shouldn't you be at the Fort, or with Graiden?"
Lugaria shrugged. "Always been a better scout. Byron sent groups out to find some lost ruins. Graiden wanted me with this group." He picked up the bottle and took a long drink, coughing as he pulled it away. He rarely drank, and this was stronger than any tavern ale. "They were new... just recruits."
"I'm sorry..." Fykes said, glancing to Agrata as he slept. "Did you find what Byron wanted, at least?"
"No. It's further east."
"I hope it is... the fort's in bad shape." Fykes ran a hand through his hair. "Jon's getting a little desperate."
"You didn't hear?" Lugaria looked at him quizzically. "Fykes... the fort is gone."
"What? " Fykes barked, jerking forward. "What happened?"
Katerin jerked awake at the sudden noise, eyes wide and blinking furiously, staff in hand as she looked around.
"There was a big raid. The fort was blown to pieces." Lugaria continued, not paying her any heed.
Fykes sat shock still, head down. His hair fell in front of his face, shading his eyes. His fingertips rubbed at his temples.
"What?" Katerin asked, looking around still holding her staff. "Fykes? Are you alright?"
Fykes' head snapped up, staring at Lugaria with pleading eyes. "Jon?"
"He survived." Lugaria's tone softened. "He lost a leg, though."
"Where is he?" Fykes asked, his voice sounding hollow and rough.
"In O'siaris. Two of his men drug him back."
Katerin was wide awake now. "What about the rest of the men?" She scooted closer to their conversation, leaving Arjiah to her quiet slumber.
Lugaria shook his head. "Two were with Jon. They were trying to carry him back... they're the only ones who survived... " He shook his head. "The fort is rubble. He blew it to pieces." A small smile pulled at his lips. "Though if you ask Jon, he dragged his men back with a missing leg, killed a dozen more lizards, and charmed a maiden on the way."
"I... I need a minute," Fykes said, standing and exiting the tree without another sound.
Katerin frowned after him, and Lugaria easily caught the look in her eyes. Concern—genuine, and deep. He wondered if she knew it was there for a moment, until she turned her gaze to him.
"You can sleep if you want. I'll watch for awhile," she said, eyes still lingering on the hole in the tree.
"I don't sleep much," he said, but he leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. He was as upset as anyone about the fort, but there was little he could do, save for protecting the people most important to him. He spared one last glance at Agrata—still sleeping like a stone—before he drifted into the darkness of sleep.
Katerin shook her head at Lugaria's quiet slumber. A part of her wondered how he could even sleep, with the day he had. As tired as she was, the news of the fort had given her renewed alertness, and in the silence she had no defense for the worries in her mind.
It felt odd, that she should care about Jon, or the fate of any of his men. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself that she cared only about finding her mother—it did not stick. She wanted to run into the night and go find Jon. Wanted to make sure that he truly was still alive. She could nor turn around though, not for anything, or anybody. She had a trail, and refused to let this one get too cold.
About an hour later, as the moon climbed up the sky, Fykes climbed back into the tree. Looking no different than he had before, no injuries or scuffs of any kind. He offered Katerin a tired smile and laid down on his cloak without saying a word.
She could have woken Arjiah at any point to take a watch, but she found that she could not sleep, and every time she had the thought, it was quickly replaced by another. Instead, she watched Fykes sleep.
She liked the way the silver glint of the moon colored his hair and face. He looked angelic as he slept, peaceful and honest. None of that sadness, none of that positivity to color him. Just the blank canvas, the true spirit of the person. She felt for him, as there was nothing she could compare to what he must be dealing with. All those men were dead. The grizzly scenes she had experienced since leaving the safety of the town replayed over in her mind.
Every time she began to drift, flashes of blood, broken bones and sundered armor, were keeping her awake like a slap to the face or a bucket of creek water poured over her head.
She looked across the people in the tree with her, all asleep in various positions. Not because they wanted to be, but because they knew they needed the rest. It came to her then, that this was not a new or shocking occurrence to the people sleeping around her. They had seen this violence, this startling reality for a lot longer than she.
The things that made her stomach twist and her hands shake were things that each of them was accustomed to. She had more book knowledge than anyone she knew—but they saw and understood how the world worked. They dealt with it gracefully when reality reared its ugly head. They each held a healthy fear of the dark, a deep respect and acceptance of it.
She did not, for she knew lots of things in theory, but her fear of the dark was limited by what she knew. She had never seen it, never felt or faced it—the darkness of death, war, and discovery.
The fighting here was small, compared to all the carnage the large wars of history had surely spread. The wars she had delved into, reading every piece of parchment she could find, did not compare to the reality of the world. Sure, they told of the death toll, and which commander came out victorious, but they skipped the details that made all the difference.
When men died, they were not simply numbers on a page or pawns on a map. They had families, friends, lives that they could never return to. The realization stung, and suddenly the names of commanders and numbers of siege artillery meant little to her.
She watched her companions sleep, quietly debating. Arjiah and her careful, easy-going approach. Fykes, with his bravado and positive, ever charming attitude. Lugaria, who looked as intimidating and deadly sleeping as he did when awake. And Agrata, so youthful and innocent looking—so out of place here.
Even without hearing him speak, she knew he was better friends with that darkness than she. She wondered if by the end of this journey that she would be like them, aware of the world as it truly was.
Part of her was terrified by that notion, and the other half was curious, wanting more than anything to know the world the way it truly was. It was knowledge, even if it was hard to swallow. She wondered if they had ever had a revelation as she was having now--that the world was not so pretty and safe as the books she loved so much could paint it to be.
She had never considered her upbringing to be sheltered, but life in a city was so far removed from this wild, terrifyingly beautiful place.