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I'm no use to Mace if I'm dead.
A hand between my shoulder blades lights my body up with devotion and strength, and I look to see Zeph behind me, Mace safely encased in a shield that Morrow is holding. He looks tired and sweating, and I'm worried about his ability to protect those I love.
"Don't worry about them," Zeph says softly. "Let's get rid of this thing."
Zeph lights the creature on fire; the snarls and yelps it makesfill the night air. The Decay from the shadows has made it impossible for the manticore to stand, and it slumps to the floor. I pull another shadow to me and then another, twirling them together in front of me. I imagine them turning into a large blade, deathly sharp and fast. More shadows join them and flow together until there, in the air, floating in front of me is a massive pointed sword that I will into the heart of the manticore.
It's dead before it can even yell, blood soaking the jungle floor.
The shadow sword disappears as soon as I release the restraints. My body slumps, feeling depleted and used. Zeph wraps an arm around me, whispering in my ear.
"When I was a child, I used to sneak into Mace's room and steal one of each of his socks. I would hide them around the house so our mother would think he was leaving his clothes everywhere, and he'd get in trouble."
I wrinkle my brow, making eye contact with my very odd high priest. "Why are you telling me this?"
"All of the journals agree on one thing – devotion is stronger when it comes with a sacrifice. The Winter journal made a few references that to tell a secret is to sacrifice it." He shrugs, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile and crinkling his eye. "It's the first one I thought of."
My laugh slips out of me until I remember Mace is hurt. I spin around and see Morrow still struggling to maintain the shield. "Drop the shield, Morrow. We'll have to make do without one."
Plume is kneeling next to Mace, who is sitting up and swatting her away. "Don't waste your magic on me," he says stubbornly. "Let's just putsome tincture on it, wrap it, and keep going."
"The tinctures work better if they have a little magical help," Plume says, ignoring his request to leave. She peels off his shirt, revealing that his lithe, corded torso is slick with blood from his shoulder. Plume digs into her pack and pulls out a feverfew tincture and another that I don't recognize. Plume sees me eying it and smiles. "White willow bark. I found very little, so I didn't trade any of it."
"Which is why you shouldn't use it on me," Mace grits out. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his arm is still slowly oozing blood.
I crouch next to him and snarl, "Get fixed up, or I'll tie you down and force it." I rise to my full height and look down at him, eyes full of challenge. He rolls his eyes at me but turns to Plume, his jaw clenched.
"Fine. Miss Mistflow over here insists." My eyes narrow at his choice of name for me in this moment.
Plume explains to Mace that the white willow bark mainly works as a pain relief, and the feverfew will prevent infection. She puts a few drops of each into the holes caused by the manticore's barbs. Hovering her hands over him, Plume begins to mutter under her breath, and before my eyes, the blood stops dripping, and the skin starts to stitch itself together. Patting her patient's shoulder, Plume stands up. "Good as new," she says with a nod. "It's more important for you to be at full power than me right now."
"She's right," I say, grabbing his other hand and hefting him up. "Plume's Healing magic is of no use to us if we cannot injure the beasts with our offensive ones. It would leave her with too much of a mess to clean up." Mace slips the bloody shirt back on, and my mouth waters at the smell of it. I can feel the fuzz of bloodlust come over me, and I lean forward to lick some off of Mace. I can control myself most of the time, but I suppose my partner's blood is irresistible.
"Nope, absolutely not," Mace says, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me away. "You've got to get fixed up too."
I look at my leg, surprised to see three long claw marks on my thigh. How am I walking on this? How did I not notice it?
It seems that seeing the injury has brought it back to awareness within my mind, and the pain hits me all at once, making my knees crumple. Mace catches me easily, lowering me to the ground. Plume is there immediately, putting the same tinctures on my leg and muttering the same magic under her breath.
It's a strange feeling to be healed. The magic seeps through me, and mine welcomes it, even if it can't stay. The gentleness of the Healing magic is a welcome change from some of the wild, dangerous magic that thrashes within me.
As soon as I am healed, we check over everyone else, making sure everyone is no worse for wear. Tulip is quiet, eyes downcast. I move to her. "Are you hurt?" I ask, hands roaming over her body, checking for injury.
"No, of course not. I was shielded the whole time," she answers. Her normally bubbly voice is subdued, and her body istight. She looks devastated over something.
"What's wrong?" I ask quietly. Even though I am talking to her, I am not looking at her, my eyes scanning the surrounding area for threats.
"I'm a fucking burden, that's what's wrong," Tulip snaps. "I just sit here shielded while the rest of you fight. In fact I take one of your fighters away by having him shield me."
Morrow looks over our way, responding to the anger in Tulip's rising voice. "I want to shield you, wife. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."
"It doesn't matter," she says, ignoring the fact that Morrow is still calling her his wife, "I should've just stayed on the boat." Her voice is sad, but I don't know what to say in response. "I know I'm a good fighter, but this is different. We're not getting close enough for me to be of any use."
She is taking away fighting resources. There really isn't anything she can add to this situation. As much as I care for her and want her here, and I know she is good with weapons and hand-to-hand, overall, all of the beasts we have encountered have made it clear that this is not the place she should be right now.
But of course, I don't tell her that.
Instead, I rub my hand between her shoulder blades and let her vent her frustrations. Zeph approaches her, and she flinches at his proximity.
