Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

18. Ikar

Chapter 18

Ikar

T he woman leaves with a maddening, careless smirk. I have no idea what I did to deserve that kind of treatment, but I don’t have time to think about it. I return to our table and hold the ruined parchment above the scarred wooden surface, watching in horror as water drips steadily from its edge.

“Memorize as many as you can,” I say, as my eyes scan quickly down the list of names, over and over while they continue to bleed and spread across the swollen page. A few are already too illegible, dark smears on paper stained a bruised color by the insufferable woman’s tea. I have no parchment or writing instruments at hand, so memory will have to do until I find some. I repeat the names I’ve read to cement them in my mind while I quickly finish my now lukewarm meal in angry silence.

“I can track her,” Rhosse suggests mildly from my left, as I take my last bite. I sit back and think about it for a moment. Our time is precious. If I’m tracking her to exact revenge, I don’t have time, but I’d bet my enchanted sword she knows something. While I intended to use Rhosse to track a Tulip, this woman is the next best thing at this point.

I nod, not bothering to pick up the soggy parchment. “Let’s go.”

Darvy, Rhosse, and I make our way into the forest, Rhosse in the lead. Like me, he is of the hunter faction, but not all of one faction are exactly the same. As a king, I have more magical abilities among the hunter faction than usual—speed, strength, increased hearing and sense of smell—and one of my lesser gifts includes tracking. Most hunters have one or two magical abilities, and Rhosse’s are tracking and working with animals. Naturally, he picks up the woman’s trail quickly, guiding us along what can hardly be called a path and navigating through dusk shrouded trees, logs, and bushes covered in moss and climbing vines.

I allow my senses to attune to the sounds and feel of the forest as the suns go down. I hear the first of the evening insects begin their light chirps and buzzing, and the breeze cools as the suns set to the east. Shadows lengthen beneath the trees, and animals rustle into their forest homes for the night. It is the peaceful time between when the daytime creatures of the forest find their rest and the criminals and night creatures rise to reign until dawn. We venture deeper into the woods, though the path she traveled now turns to one more visible. I cringe at the faintest sour scent of goblin on the breeze.

“Goblins in the area.” My magically heightened senses inform me before Rhosse and Darvy have any chance of smelling it.

It’s a bit early for goblins to be venturing out of their nests, but not uncommon. We travel further, and the scent grows stronger, so strong that all our eyes water and I find myself wiping the corners and blinking rapidly to clear my vision, as do Darvy and Rhosse. I pull the magic back to reduce my heightened smell, but even without it, my senses are sharper than those of other factions, so I’m stuck receiving the brunt of the effects of the rancid odor.

Rhosse stops several feet ahead and inspects a wide area where the forest grasses and dropped pine needles have been scattered and pressed into the soft earth, probably a scuffle of some sort. He glances up and points to the disrupted bark of a large branch.

“Goblins caught someone today.”

Probably some traveler or merchant, unaware of the danger. Unfortunate, but a well-known risk when traveling in this part of the forest.

Rhosse turns back to me, and my chest tightens as I realize what he’s about to say as he lifts the old short sword I saw on the woman’s hip at the inn.

“The goblins have her,” he says. “On your orders.”

I clench my fist. Of course they do. I run a hand through my hair and think. I, of course, don’t want her dead—I wouldn’t wish death by goblins on anyone. I also need the information I know she has, but I don’t have time to track her for another day and possibly set up a rescue mission. Darvy and Rhosse wait for my decision. I can’t, in good conscience, leave the woman to be skinned and killed by goblins, knowing she’s likely still alive.

“Continue to track her,” I growl.

It’s not difficult to track them, their scent a far cry from mild, even for those who aren’t experienced. They also leave a trail the size of a shard beast stampede wherever they go. We catch up to them easily and make use of the deepening shadows to cloak our presence while we gauge the situation. I immediately see the woman from earlier, fighting against the ropes restraining her, being hoisted high up a broad, giant tree on a flat board attached to ropes. I track its intended path up and notice an intricate mess of pulleys and lifts that lead to gigantic wasp-nest-looking huts attached to branches in the towering treetops above. I curse under my breath.

We could take on an entire tree of goblins and survive, but while towing a woman who may or may not have any fighting skills? I don’t feel in the mood to shed my skin today. My mouth sets in a grim line. The woman bucks and fights, tilting the board every which way so violently I wonder if that will be her undoing rather than the goblins. Probably preferable. The goblins roughly pull the thick rope through the squeaking pulley, lifting her up in a jerky and uneven fashion to one of the creepy-looking nest huts before whisking her inside. I know we only have a few minutes to reach her before it’s too late.

“I’ll circle around to the other side and drop our packs, then I’ll climb up and grab her. You guys take over the pulley for our exit, and we’ll head out there, grabbing our packs on the way.” I point to the opposite side of the goblin nest tree.

“That’s a terrible plan,” Darvy whispers.

“I second that,” Rhosse grunts.

If they weren’t my closest friends, they’d be in the stocks. “Have you got something better?” I snap. “We’ve got thirty seconds.” After a few seconds of silence, I stand. “My plan it is. Hand me your packs. Wait until I get to the nest, then take over the pulley.”

I circle around through the forest, stopping only once when a small group of goblins with trapping equipment draped over their shoulders leave the nest perimeter and head into the darkness of the forest, out for another capture. As soon as they pass, I continue my path around the perimeter until I reach my destination and drop our packs. Even with my heightened vision, I can’t see Darvy and Rhosse in the shadows directly across from me, several hundred yards away, but I assume they are still there, waiting.

I wait until it seems likely I won’t be seen, bend low, and run toward the tree, heading for the deepest shadows to begin my ascent. I dig my fingers into the thick, gnarly, half-rotted bark, ignoring the inky black bugs that skitter across my hands. What is not easy to ignore is the potent sour smell that seems to emanate from the bark itself, and I find myself holding back the contents of my stomach as I scale my way quickly up. I pause when a lift passes too close and press myself against the tree, remaining unnoticed. I finally reach the hut they’ve taken her to. I grab and hoist myself onto the top of the branch that the nest is dangling from and step carefully along its length. I’ve never seen a goblin nest this close before, and I notice how it’s attached around the strong branch I walk along, its odd material connected to the bark of the tree like a continually growing, slimy glue. But unlike a liquid object, its texture is almost weaved… and disgustingly fuzzy. I’ve done a lot of dangerous, scary, awful things in the name of duty, but climbing into a goblins nest will be a first for me. The nests themselves are the size of small huts, oblong with narrow openings.

All is quiet at this particular nest, and I assume the goblins have left momentarily. Probably to gather their knives in order to skin the woman. Around me, lifts move up and down at dizzying speeds. It’s only a matter of time until I’m noticed. I artfully swing down and through the opening into the nest and land on the soft floor in a crouch. The woman is before me, tied up, but rather than relief when she sees me, her eyes grow wide with alarm.

I hold up my hands in a peace offering gesture, trying to show her that she has no reason to fear me. “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foo?—”

A goblin lurches wildly from the shadows with a strange high-pitched wheeze at my right, and I react instinctively, ripping my knife from its sheath with a speed only gained from experience and thrust it quickly into its neck. I push it back against the sloped wall where it slides into a smelly heap, coming to a slow stop only a few feet from us. I hear the commotion below and around us, and I know Darvy and Rhosse have made their move. It’s time.

I wipe my knife off using the odd textured nest wall, then turn back toward the woman and hold a finger to my lips to indicate she should stay quiet. I untie the gag around her face and quickly cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles before sheathing my knife. She appears unharmed, so I move to the next part of the mission. Escape.

“How did you find me?” she whispers. I wrote off her previous look of fear as her warning me about the waiting goblin, but that look is still in her eyes, and the only way I can describe it is that she’s fearful of my presence. The woman is off her rocker.

“Tracked you.” I see her pack in a heap along the side of the nest and quickly toss it to her. “Put this on.” I poke my head out of the opening, my mind on the mission. Conversation can wait.

My vision locks on Darvy and Rhosse, engaged in a fight with over twenty goblins with more heading their way. Swarms of them stream from the forest and the tree above us. The grunts and shrieks of the goblins are audible, even from our position hundreds of feet above. Pulleys and lifts are constantly moving around us, most now headed down and filled with groups of goblins ready to join the fight. I watch for the right moment. It’s darker now, and I hope if we stay quiet, we can make it to one of the platforms unnoticed. I see an empty lift passing to the right, going down, but it passes too quickly. We need a better angle. I climb out of the nest, back on to the branch from which it hangs, and stretch my hand out to help the woman up. She stares at it for a moment, unwilling to take it, then knocks it aside with a shoulder as she haphazardly scrambles up next to me on her own, keeping to her knees and firmly grasping the thin branch. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so irritated.

I track another lift on its way down, I can’t see how many goblins are on it, since it’s coming from above, but we have no choice. I reach for her hand again, and this time I snag it in my firm grasp even as she attempts to shake my hand from hers.

“We’re jumping on that lift. Hang on tight, or you’ll fall.” I scowl at her—now is not the time for whatever this is. I still don’t understand why she’s averse to me. Would she rather I leave her to the goblins?

I count down quietly, but even with the warning, she lets out a surprised yelp as I yank her hard, and we jump toward the moving platform—knowing if we miss this, we fall to our deaths below. I miscalculate my angle a bit, what with my arm turned back to pull her with me awkwardly, causing my opposite shoulder to catch on one of the tightly strung ropes. I fall hard, the woman beside me, and find four delighted goblins hovering above us. We’re like a couple of fish who jumped right into their net. They immediately come at us, brandishing some poor human’s weapons they stole before they killed them.

A couple find their target and hit against my leather armor, one slices at my unprotected shoulder, and a blossom of red burgeons through my shirt. I quickly jump to my feet and pull my own weapon. For being so small, goblins are very strong and make formidable enemies. I shove the woman behind me and into a corner as I begin to pick them off. I grab one by its tunic before I realize it’s made of human skin, instinctively tossing it away and off the side, its chittering fades below us until it hits the ground with a thud. Two more come forward with their swords, and I quickly dispose of them with a couple of well-placed stabs. I toss them off, as well. The only one left is running the pulley. We battle, our swords moving quickly, blocking, stabbing. This one is good, but I feint to the left when he thought I’d go right, and after a well-placed stab, I send him sailing over the side to join the others.

I sheathe my sword and immediately grab hold of the rope to send the lift down, but the rope begins jerking in my grip and I look up to see two goblins making quick work of sawing the thick ropes that hold us aloft. I curse beneath my breath and allow the lift to fall dangerously fast. Our hair and clothing whip around us, and I look down at the forest floor to see a swarm gathering in wait. The woman looks at me like I’m crazy but doesn’t let go of the side of the lift. I glance down at the swarm again and hope they’ll be enough to cushion our fall. I know we need to reach the ground before those ropes are cut, but not too fast or we could be injured—or die. I have no idea what that speed looks like, but hopefully, this is it. Rhosse and Darvy slowly make their way toward our intended landing spot, the swarm around them constantly growing, the smell stifling, even from our height above.

“Hang on!” I call to her. She clings with both hands as we fairly drop from the tree. Then we hit, and we both stumble to our knees and slide forward, our landing cushioned by at least ten goblins so that our platform is an awkwardly skewed ramp. I grab her hand tightly, and we slide off, jumping into the violent fray. I drag her through the melee, pulling lucent and sending it through my sword, making quick use of it to clear our way.

Immediately, Darvy and Rhosse are behind us, still fighting off the goblins that are attempting to swarm and overtake us. I fight through a few layers of goblins until we get to the outside of the group. Then we run for it, hard. Without stopping, I swing by the stashed packs and throw mine over my shoulder. I hear Darvy and Rhosse behind us. They’re fast, and I know they’ll catch up. I’m more worried about the woman keeping pace the further we run.

But I realize that won’t be a problem. The river lies ahead, and if we change course to attempt to bypass the river and circle around, we will lose precious ground. The goblins will be able to catch up. We’re good at what we do, but I know this area is littered with their deceptive traps. If we get caught, there’s a good chance they’ll kill us on the spot. But the river is full of its own dangers. I have only seconds to decide.

“Everyone, grab hands!” I shout. It’s the only way we’ll stay together when we touch the water. I’ll do everything I can to direct the river, but I know it’s pointless. The Lucent River will send us where the Lucent River wants.

Rhosse grabs the woman’s outstretched hand, and Darvy grabs his. Like a human chain, we run full speed toward the looming edge of a steep, pitch-black drop-off.