"How's the shoulder?" I ask Kiren. He grants me a wry grin while ducking under a long branch.
"It's fine. Nothing too bad. I'm just glad it didn't get infected."
"Right." That would be a nightmare — dealing with one of our own being plagued. Lucian said it spread by touch, by flesh. After Kiren got cut by the pincers, Saegor and Zyla had to run multiple magick-based tests to see if he was infected. But… he seems fine, even two days later. So he is fine. Probably.
We walk in silence for a bit longer. Zyla is discussing something pretty fervently with Saegor, gesticulating angrily ahead of us. I open and close my fists, feeling the muscles go taut and loose. Practicing Iron Winter on my own, while troublesome, has allowed me a greater control of my body — I can stiffen up before taking a blow, and I know the perfect angle at which to smash my shin against an enemy. But, none of that is all too useful against the plagued — an enemy we are not meant to touch.
I will definitely need an alternative. Something besides relying on just Umbrahorn.
"Raiten?" Kiren asks.
"Yes?"
"Sorry," he says, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish flush to his face. "About earlier — I didn't mean to pry into your personal life. I overstepped."
Oh. He's still hung up about that? I had forgotten the matter. I look at Kiren with a more critical eye now. He's an awfully… well-manner mancer. Nothing like Saegor's overbearing presence. Kiren's the exact opposite of the mancer type.
So why the hell is he part of this troop? I ask myself, not for the first time.
"It's fine," I tell him, waving a dismissive hand. "I was also being unreasonable earlier."
"Sorry about my sister too. She just, gets angry like that sometimes—"
"I said it's fine, don't worry Kiren."
"Right."
We walk for a little more, the dirt turning muddy beneath our boots. We squelch through the forest now, the briars widening, the distance between trees growing. This must be the second trek of the journey that Pamela described to me. Soon, we'll reach the marshes. Then gatorland.
I eye the chain-rope-dagger curled around Kiren's waist for an inordinate amount of time, lost in my thoughts.
He notices, shaking the chains: "You like Meteorfang?"
"That's the weapon's name?"
"Well, no," he says, unwrapping it now. "It's a Catolican alteration of the Kusarigama— ditches the scythe for a raw kunai blade and keeps the metal-balled end." He tosses the finger-scuffed sphere-end of the chain in the air for some emphasis. Then, he lobs it over to me. The chains clink in the air as I catch the ball, its weight surprising me slightly. I turn it over in my hand, rubbing my thumb across its top.
"You look like you're in love Raiten," Umbrahorn says, startling me as he emerges from the ground next to us, black eyes examining the weapon as well. "I've seen weapons like this before. None of them were chained though — why is that?" He turns his attention to Kiren, who stares at the hammerhead shark with caution.
"Uh, I requested the forger to make it like that. I had a roped version earlier, but that snapped often — especially against fiercer foes. This one is magically reinforced: each chain is strengthened by bonds of metal and the smallest of runic inscriptions."
"Runic?" I ask, more to myself than anyone else. I've heard that term tossed about so much, but I still have no idea what constitutes runic magicks and what separates them from regular magicks. Magicks "inside the spiral" as Sorina would so often and so poorly explain.
"Runic magicks are crafter's or forger's magicks. Real complicated, dead-language based inscriptions. I've only ever met a select few who could do anything more than light up a room with runic," Kiren explains.
"I see." I nod to myself as if I understand, but to be honest, this thing still confounds me. I hand the ball-end back to Kiren and forge on ahead.
"Wait!" Kiren says, jogging a little to catch up with me. One of his shoes sinks deep in a strange divot in the mud, hidden by a foliage of roots and brush. He groans as flecks of wet brownness splatter over him. With a sigh, I come back to help him, allowing him to grab my shoulder as he pulls on his boot. It pops out with another splatter, this one getting on Umbrahorn, who doesn't seem to mind.
"I showed you mine," he says, hopping on one foot to shake the mud off. "Now show me yours!"
"Uh…" I back away, his arm draping off my shoulder. "I appreciate the offer but —"
"No not like that!" Kiren says, flailing to stay balanced. He puts the boot down again and fits his foot through, lacing it up while looking at my waist. The sack at my belt.
"Oh." I consider not giving it to him, but I don't think he would do anything too malicious. I unwrap the amulet sack and hand it to him when he stands.
Curiously, he opens it and delicately takes out an amulet, examining the red gem inscribed in the metal. "What is it?" He finally asks.
"I thought you wanted to see it because you knew what it was."
He shakes his head.
With a sigh, as we walk on, I explain to him the mechanics of angel dust and lightning. He listens with rapt attention, asking questions like an overachieving schoolboy. Sorina used to call me a dog, but he's truly a puppy — all he needs is a tail to wag. It would be endearing, if it wasn't so annoying. But, I do my best to fight against the asshole within and keep trudging on.
We walk for a little more, the dirt turning muddy beneath our boots. We squelch through the forest now, the briars widening, the distance between trees growing.
I frown. This is all looking awfully familiar—
My foot falls into a strange divot in the mud, hidden by foliage and brush. What the—
"Saegor!" I yell out as I extract my boot from the mud. "I think something's wrong! Saegor?!" I look up ahead, but find that Saegor and Zyla are nowhere in sight. "Kiren something's —" I turn to look for him, but he's gone too.
"Umbrahorn?" I call out.
No response.
Shit. What magicks are these briars playing at now?
I clench my fists and turn in place, searching the forest for any sign of movement. Then, I start cursing myself because I gave Kiren my amulet stack, so all I'm left with is my martial techniques.
There comes a creaking, loud and echoing throughout the woods.
Then, every single tree begins to move.