They reached the trees and darted into them. The snow was shallower here, and they climbed over rocks and raced down a hill. When they reached a stream, Eric paused, glancing up and down. A spot to their right seemed narrower, so Eric ran toward that. The water rushing through the snowy earth blotted out the last sounds of battle, and Illius started to register the burning in his lungs.
“Are you sure we should leave her?” Illius glanced behind them.
“I don’t know!” Eric almost shouted.
He recoiled.
“I’m sorry.” Eric paced back the way they had come for a second, tugging at his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
“She did say to run.” Illius glanced at the stream and saw a big rock sticking out of the middle. With a little hop, he could make it across. “We can get across there.”
“Yeah.” Eric nodded and leapt over the stream where Illius had pointed. “You’re right. She’ll catch up. She’ll be fine. She has black magic. She really has black fucking magic.”
Illius followed Eric across, carefully balancing on the slick river rocks, and then they headed deeper into the woods. The trees blotted out the little bit of light that shone through the clouds and forced them to slow down. They didn’t speak, just focused their energy on pushing forward.
“Hold up.” Eric finally leaned against a tree, gasping for air.
Illius’ legs shook as he paused, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
Eric glanced up at the sun, which barely reached them through the trees. “Wonder how long it’s been?”
“Not long enough.” Illius started to climb over a nearby felled tree.
Eric didn’t disagree, pushing off from his leaning post. Illius focused on each step forward, all the stones in his way, and every tree he had to weave around. The snow crunched underfoot, and the chill from the ground started to sink into his bones. Eric’s teeth chattered as he walked beside Illius, whose own skin had turned to gooseflesh. This wasn’t good—they’d freeze out here tonight unless they found shelter.
Illius froze.
“What’s up?” Eric stopped himself just before plowing into Illius’ back.
“I thought I heard something.”
They both stopped and waited. A call came from somewhere in the forest behind them. They exchanged glances.
“Could be Hireth?” Eric tilted his head to the side sharply to crack his neck.
Illius chewed on his lip, ripping at a piece of dried skin with his teeth until it bled.
“Eric!” a voice came, much nearer to them this time—it was unmistakably Hireth.
“Hireth?” Eric called back, running off toward the voice.
“I’m here!”
Illius followed Eric back through the trees. They paused as they saw the witch step from behind a tree. The inquisitor’s robes hung around her shoulders, and she carried more clothes in her arms, alongside the bags they’d brought with them.
“Hireth!” They rushed to her.
“Careful! Careful,” she warned them, shoving the bloody clothes toward Eric and the bags at Illius. Her left arm cradled her chest, where blood seeped through her shirt.
“What’s wrong?” Eric asked breathlessly.
“Motherfucker tried to saw off my tit!” She glared at each of them in turn. Then, she softened with a laugh. “Sorry, that was maybe a bit crass, but I’m pissed!”
“Can you walk?” Eric offered her his hand.
She raised an eyebrow, “I walked this far.”
Illius could tell from the way her shoulders hunched over and how she kept leaning on a nearby tree that she may not be able to go much farther.
“Let’s get as far from that portal as we can,” the witch continued. She grabbed some clothes from the bundle she’d given Eric and held them out toward Illius. “Here, it ain’t gonna be a proper jacket, but it’s better than nothing at the moment.”
“What happened to the… men?” Eric asked gingerly.
“Dead.” Hireth stepped past them. “C’mon, we have to keep moving.”
“Are we, uh… in Noviad?” Illius asked gingerly.
“Yeah, how were they able to follow us here?” Eric followed up.
“Uh…” Hireth paused. “I fucked up. We’re not in Noviad.”
“What?” Eric exclaimed.
The full force of the cold hit Illius. He noticed the icy chill everywhere—his fingers, his wet toes through his shoes, his ears, even his chest. Especially his chest.
“Yeah.” Hireth fidgeted for a second, “Um… surprise! Black magic has a mind of its own—or I fucked up the navigation. It’s… kind of a toss-up which.”
“But... uh…” Eric glanced around. “It’s snowy here, right? It could be Noviad? We don’t really know where we are, right?”
“We’re too far east.” Hireth’s voice cracked a little. “We didn’t make it, alright? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I fucked up. I thought it would work. I thought… This stupid curse was finally making sense toward the end of the war, and I thought it would be alright. I thought wrong, okay?”
“Wait, what curse?” Eric hurried after her and Illius also stuck close.
“My black magic.” Hireth explained. “It… has a mind of its own. It’s anti-magic. Runes are written for normal magic users. Black magic has some… I don’t always know what it’s going to do. And now we’re fuck all in the middle of nowhere, and it’s freezing!”
“Hey.” Eric’s voice came through much gentler. “I know it sucks, but… we’ll get through this, right?”
“Fuck if I know.” Hireth stepped over a rock, sucking in a sharp gasp.
We aren’t in Noviad. The church almost caught us. Hireth is hurt. And it’s fucking freezing.
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