Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Those are lethal to humans, he said, his tone somber. They were cultivated a long time ago when humans were flocking to Faerie.
Why in the world would humans flock to Faerie?
He barely shook his head. I don’t know. It was well before my time. And yours. Ancient times in human years. Fae created these plants as a passive line of defense. The plants required minimal upkeep and did the job very nicely until the humans realized what killed the plant.
What kills the plant?
I have no idea. They’ve been mostly eradicated in the wylds. A few types of creatures feed on them and they don’t grow back very quickly. When fae touch it, it stings badly but it doesn’t kill us. Like a thistle would to you. Or…a thistle mixed with a cactus.
She was smaller than him, obviously, with a slimmer stature, but it left her no room to maneuver. No room to dodge an attack or even stumble and regain her balance.
The thorns resembled something like a thick needle, spaced every few inches and sticking out an inch. From each point welled a brownish-crimson liquid, enlarging until it was too big to cling to the end and then dripping down. Where the liquid touched the packed dirt floor, a wisp of smoke rolled up and a hole started to form, like acid.
Tarian stared at it, his expression a hard mask entirely devoid of any teasing banter. He didn’t try to lighten the mood.
Please tell me I will surprise and impress you in this, she said, noticing the occasional metallic gleam on those “thorns”. As if they actually were needles.
You’d have to be fae for that. He took a deep breath and approached the beginning of the plants. His eyes darted from one side to the other as he stuck his arm into the opening. Nothing happened. He then moved it a little to the right, then left, before pulling it back out. They seem to be stationary. That’s at least good news. They haven’t been growing long enough to mature. They don’t yet reach for their victim. Or…
She waited for him to go on.
Or they’ve thought of other ways to shove you into the poisoned thorns.
It was her turn to take a deep breath. How long will it take the poison to work?
Instantly, I’m given to understand, but I don’t know if that is true. Quickly, I would assume. Ancient humans learned how to kill it before finding an effective antidote…
Thoughts of this new issue rolled through her head. And going back? The creatures along the way would’ve stayed dead, right?
Most, yes. But Celestials can feel the presences within the fringe. They will meet us at the entrance if we go back, and if we dally too long, they’ll rework the interior and crush us within.
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t known that. Why haven’t they done it already?
Changes to the heart of the fringe have a ripple effect into other areas, including the sanctioned pass-through beneath the arches. That might kill other creatures or innocent life, which they always try to avoid. Because of this, as defined by the natural balance, they can do only one large change every sunrise.
They still had some time to get through. It couldn’t have taken them the last half of the day and a whole night to get this far. However, they had taken the long way, and they had rested between obstacles. Given the strength of her fatigue and the depletion of her energy, she wasn’t just weary, she was sleep deprived. It must’ve been well into the night, then. They couldn’t just sit around and count their toes until they were ready to brave this next situation. Not like they’d do that anyway. If they couldn’t go back, they might as well go on. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.
Meeting you was the worst luck, she thought gloomily.
That’s a fair assessment.
You go first, she thought. I’d prefer something grabbing me from behind than having to deal with whatever might pop out of the briars and push me into the poisoned needles.
Very likely. His tone was once again somber. He held his knife in front of him, the blade smaller than usual. He was preparing for close combat and quick strikes. Her knife shrank to match. It was a good idea.
I will say… Even her thoughts were hushed as they crept silently into the mesh of impending doom. This knife is absolutely the best present I’ve ever gotten.
She could feel his smile through his mind touch. It served me well. It’s kinder than the blade I now wield. More helpful, I think. It aims to please. Mine is more cunning. Tricky. It won’t do me wrong and ensures I succeed where it can, but given the chance, it’ll let pretty little nymphs lodge the tip into my side.