Night Rune (Prof Croft Book 8) Brad Magnarella (the red fox clan TXT) 📖

“If you see her, hold the calling stone and speak the word. It will summon me.”

I nodded and went to place the stone in a pocket before remembering I had none.

“But I warn you, Everson,” he added. “Do not engage her.”

A husband’s threat to his wife’s former lover, or something more?

“Why?” I ventured.

“She is not herself.”

As Angelus and the others climbed onto their rocs, I considered his words. The lead roc craned its neck from us, its massive body following. In several running steps and prodigious thrusts of its wings, the roc lifted off. The other two followed.

“What was that last bit about?” Bree-yark asked, a hand shielding his eyes from the gusts of debris.

Had Angelus just suggested that Caroline was the one possessed?

“I’m not sure yet,” I said.

We found our clothes strewn among a riot of black tengu feathers, and our belongings in sacks and pouches. True to Angelus’s word, the rocs had been selective in their carnage and everything was there. When I spotted my cane off to one side, I seized it, never more relieved to feel the smooth ironwood in my grasp.

With the adrenaline of the rescue leaving my system, my head and ribs resumed throbbing where the satyr had struck me. I applied healing magic to the spots as well as to Bree-yark’s lumpy head. Before long, I could see through my right eye again, and both of us were moving with less stiffness.

My next act—before dressing, even—was to activate a pair of neutralizing potions for the two of us. I wasn’t going to commit another stupid rookie mistake like I had in the cave. Bree-yark and I took down a pair of stealth potions next. Only when we’d begun fading from view did we don our clothes.

I was restocking my coat pockets when Bree-yark suddenly raised his head. “Say, have you seen Dropsy?”

“Not since the cavern.”

He began pacing the area, whispering her name.

“She probably went in search of her maker,” I said. “Some enchanted objects are known to do that.”

Bree-yark relinquished his search with a despondent grunt. He’d apparently grown attached to the lantern.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” I said.

“Yeah, but it looks like the satyr got away.” He pointed out a set of cloven tracks that climbed toward a range of rocks.

“Leave it.”

“After what he did to us?”

“Look, no one wants to put a foot up that goat’s ass more than me, but we’ve got a much bigger mission right now.” I placed the final potions in a pocket, shouldered my pack, and grasped my cane. “Which way?”

Bree-yark pried his vengeful eyes from the tracks and screwed them toward the forest the rocs had been circling over. The riders had since steered them on, the great birds now dots above the far horizon.

“Well, there’s two ways we can go,” Bree-yark said. “Around the Kinloch Forest or through it. As an army, we always went around. Of course, we weren’t sporting this kind of magic.” He looked at one of his spectral arms. That I could see or hear him at all was only because the same magic cloaked me.

“What’s the time difference?” I asked.

“Should save us a half day, if not more.”

“Dangers?”

“You name it, but it’s not like the long way’s much safer. Major thoroughfare for giants, not to mention the occasional hobgoblin army.” He grunted a laugh. “Did I ever tell you about the time we were on a night march and—”

“Do you know a route through the forest?”

I felt bad cutting him off, but the goblin was an incurable storyteller.

“I know of a route,” he said.

As the rocs disappeared from view, I regretted we hadn’t been able to hitch a ride with them. But when your gut counseled caution, you listened. I would have preferred it had been my magic, but it was still on some sort of meditative retreat.

Bree-yark followed my gaze. “You didn’t happen to pack any flying potions?”

“Those require huge energy investments, and their use would burn through our protective potions, so no. That goes for magic-use in general, so I’m really going to need to keep things on the down-low.”

“So which’ll it be?” Bree-yark asked.

I peered from the valley to the trees. “Let’s take the forest route.”

We descended the gradual slope of land to where it flattened into a broad vale. Determined not to be ambushed again, I kept a close watch on our surroundings, even as the stealth potions took deeper effect. The sky above remained Windex-blue, while the sun shone exuberantly. I still couldn’t get over how vivid everything was, down to the individual stalks of grass bobbing in the breeze.

“Pretty, huh?” Bree-yark said.

I nodded, even though pretty didn’t begin to describe it. The realm wasn’t meant for mortal minds. An hour or two, fine. You’d leave feeling dizzy and overcome, but your brain synapses would still be firing. Beyond that and the realm’s ambient enchantments would pluck your sanity away one thread at a time until the whole thing fell open and you were a gibbering wreck. Though my neutralizing potion and magical bloodline blunted the effects, I could feel the potential for madness all around me.

Before long, the forest rose just ahead, its trees tall, dark, and twisting. “The way’s marked by a cairn,” Bree-yark said. “Supposed to be around here somewhere.”

I scanned the tree line to both sides. “I’m not seeing anything.”

“There.” He pointed off to our right and strode toward the trees.

I still didn’t see anything until, deeper in the forest, I picked out a jumble of stones.

“That’s the cairn?”

“Yeah, looks like the forest overtook it.”

“It looks more like the forest used it for a rock fight.”

“Must’ve gotten tired of things tromping through here.”

“Wait.” I gripped his arm. “Are you saying this forest is sentient?”

“Most are in the Fae Wilds. Some are just moodier than others. The Kinloch Forest, for example.”

“Wonderful.”

“We can still take the other route.”

I was seriously considering it, when the ground vibrated underfoot. Bree-yark knelt and flattened a hand against the earth. The vibrations strengthened