Page 18 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

I was about to offer my thoughts to Glory when the mage in question stumbled on the road and sucked in an audible gasp. Before I could register what had happened, she was running—or at least making an attempt to run in her ridiculous skirt—towards the thick green lilac trees up ahead. Beyond the greenery, the rush of two rivers met in a dance of white-capped rapids.

I didn’t bother increasing my pace to catch up. At least, not by much. I may have lengthened my stride a tad so I didn’t miss whatever puzzle Tersey had left on round two. Or lose sight of whatever expressions flitted across Glory’s face when she unearthed the second clue.

She had done an impressive job of hiding her doubts that she’d find anything at the first signpost, but there had been no covering up her relief that we weren’t wasting our time. Now, only half a day later, here we were, ready to find the next.

“Be careful walking around over there,” she called. “Some of the trees are less than friendly. Oh! I think I see something!”

“At this rate, we’ll be home within the week,” I said.

She huffed a laugh over her shoulder. “If this amulet were that easy to find, someone would have tracked it down years ago.” She rolled her shoulders back and stared out over the water. “Still, it’s nice to believe it might be so straightforward.”

With a blink, she set her wishes aside and got back to work, pawing through branches thick with greenery but past the season of their aromatic beauty. I wandered around the edge of the trees, keeping well out of Glory’s way. Leaves from a nearby branch tickled my neck, and I swatted them aside.

“If you wanted to speed things up, you might put your long arms to use and help me,” came her muffled voice.

I crossed said long arms. “I’m here to guide and protect, not lose myself in foliage unless absolutely necessary.”

She paused her command with nature to look me over. Her gaze snagged on my neck, and her eyebrow kicked up the merest fraction before she returned to her task.

“So you say, but then you walk straight into some wingleaf. I told you to be careful.”

I cursed and dodged away from the tree, but the damage had been done. Already, a deep, burning itch spread across my neck where the leaves had made contact with my bare skin. Such an innocent-looking plant, yet contact with its oils promised a world of discomfort. My hand moved of its own accord, my fingers curled and ready to scratch, and it was an extreme act of will to force my arm down.

“I got it!” The mage’s cry of joy grated along my last nerve. Any curiosity or enthusiasm I might have felt for this second landmark had withered and died with the wingleaf’s touch.

“Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here and move on,” I growled.

She waved me away, remaining bent over the lilac branches with her ass in the air. “Like the first one, it’s embedded—though this time in the rock along the bank instead of in a tree. Tersey had great faith that these natural features wouldn’t be affected by time.” She looked at me over her shoulder with a frown. “I wonder if he had something to do with that. A repelling spell, maybe? Something to turn people away from destroying it? Still, we see what happened to the river. A good storm might have—”

“Can you get the fuck on with it?” I interrupted, and again forced my hand down. The itch had spread, burrowing deeper under my flesh. If I made the mistake of letting it near my bloodstream, I would suffer a nightmare of an evening. What worked against wingleaf?

I wracked my brain trying to remember the ingredients of a basic salve, only half aware of what Glory was saying as she wrestled with the branches clawing at her clothing. I’d just landed on a half-forgotten piece of knowledge about taprush and fellweed when a sharp yelp broke my concentration.

Glory stood with her finger in her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Bested by a box?” I asked, tempering my smirk at the double-entendre.

She met my stare. “Better to be bested by a box than a stick. One serves far more purposes, and the other thinks too much of itself.” Without waiting for my response, she dropped her attention back to the box in question. “This one definitely outsmarted me, though. I thought the clue might be similar to the last one. It mentions something about the scent of lilacs and the heat of a summer afternoon. Again, I don’t think he means this to be time dependent, but—oh!”

I stared, torn between confusion and disbelief as she plucked a few leaves from the nearest branch and stuffed them in her mouth. She grimaced as she chewed once, twice, three times, then spat the sodden mulch on the ground, bent over again, and blew an open-mouthed breath. Just like at the first signpost, the tiny drawer must have popped open, because Glory’s eyes shone with triumph. Her smile was dazzling, but I was too itchy and annoyed to be dazzled.

“We done here?”

Her glow dimmed—a small part of me regretted it—and she nodded as she slid the clue to the next landmark into her pocket.

I cleared my throat, caught myself scratching my neck, and strode towards the overgrown lane. “There’s a clearing not far from here where we can make camp for the night.” I’d hoped to make it farther, but the thought of walking all evening with this blasted itch was enough to make me want to tear up these protected lilacs out of spite. I paused and looked at her. “Unless you think we can make the third landmark by nightfall?”

Glory shook her head. “I need to consult the maps and decipher the next clue, but from what I recall of the notes, the third landmark is much farther outside the city limits.”

I scowled. Of course it was. My earlier optimism now struck me as naive. “Then let’s call it an early night. We can start all the earlier tomorrow.”

I hoped it wasn’t a smile tugging the corner of her mouth when she said, “I thought you had greater ambitions for our first day. There has to be a least a few hours of good walking light left.”

A direct reference to my earlier confidence. I scowled and turned my back on her. “Don’t push me, mage, or I won’t let us go below a jog for the rest of the journey.”

I was still itching by the time we made camp, and by the time I stuffed some food in my face, I was miserable, not tasting a bite of the dried meat and not accepting any of the candied fruit Glory offered. Who brought candied fruit on an expedition like this one?

I did accept the nip of brandy from the small bottle she handed me. It was decent quality liquor, but unfortunately, did nothing to help my rash.