Chapter Ten: By the Prickler

 

Kyosti went north. It wasn’t ideal, because the queen would find him easier the sunnier it was, but he had this vague idea of getting to Sorn Iorn. Because of how hot and deserty it was there, the Chith Empire sent many of its Innis captives there to work; the Innis simply didn’t know how to survive in such a place, and therefore couldn’t escape. If he could pass the knife onto another Innis there, maybe they could get it back to the Icefields safely.

It was a long shot, but it was currently his only idea.

Less than an hour into his flight, he heard rustling. At first, he thought nothing of it, since there were still many animals preparing for the winter in these woods, but then he heard muffled cursing to go along with the rustling. Animals, as far he knew, didn’t curse.

Kyosti hesitated, pressing his hand to his pack where the knife was hidden. If he got caught now, when his departure was barely begun...but also, if someone needed his help….

In the end, he crept forward and rasped “Hello?” His voice was hoarse with disuse. “Is anyone there?”

The rustling stopped.

Kyosti placed one hand on the hilt of his hip knife and crept forward through the bushes. He would have liked to take his bow out, but if it came to a close fight, archery would not be his friend.

The soft, irritated cursing came again, this time a little louder. Kyosti parted a bush with his hands and peered through the leaves.

It was a woman. She was dressed peculiarly, with leggings and a tunic that might have once been brightly colored but were now faded into almost gray. Her shoes were ragged and dotted with holes. She wore a green headscarf that covered every hair; it looked to be the newest bit of clothing she wore.

Kyosti could immediately see where the rustling had come from, and he covered his mouth to keep from giggling. The woman was twisted away so he could not see her face and she could not see him because her headscarf was hopelessly entangled in a prickler bush.

“Uh, hello,” Kyosti said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. “Can I---Do you need help?”

The woman groaned and the bush rustled loudly as she abandoned any attempt at silence. “Do I look like I need help?” she snapped, then hissed as the thorns pierced her fingers. She had an accent that Kyosti could not place. He could tell, by her skin color, that she was no southerner either. Perhaps she was from the Iorns, or even the north.

Kyosti inched forward. “Well . . .” he hedged. “I’m willing to help if you do. These bushes are pretty nasty, aren’t they? It’s so hard for bushes to survive this far south, they have to be nasty to keep animals from eating them.”

“If I wanted a botany lesson, I would have asked for it,” she responded coldly, her fingers still picking away at the thorns. “Now shut up and help me.”

Invitation accepted. Kyosti stepped forward. “You know, this would be really easy if you just slipped out of the headsc---”

“No!”

Kyosti jumped at her yell. He could just see the corner of her eye as her fingers paused in their yanking. “No,” she said again, this time softly. “I can’t take the headscarf off. It stays.”

He frowned. “Uh, ok. Whatever you say.” Gingerly, he started picking at the thorns, wincing as their little barbs pricked his skin. “This could take a while, though. Where are you coming from, anyway? Are you coming from the Seer’s Camp? That’s where I’m headed, as a matter of fact. Are you from Lama? You don’t sound like you are. Then again, you could be from east Lama, because I’ve never met anyone from there. Lama’s a big place.”

She did not reply.

“I’m coming from Chithoobra myself,” Kyosti went on. “You ever been there? I mean, it’s a bit of a hike, you know. About a month. But still! You should visit! Beautiful place. Warmer than this southern forest, too.”

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Huh?” Kyosti said. “Oh, yeah. I talk a lot. Ask any of my friends. I haven’t talked to anyone in weeks, since I’ve been traveling through the plains recently.”

She sighed but said nothing. He could just see one side of her face. Her eyes and eyebrows were black. That was interesting to him. Other than Innis, most people in the south didn’t have dark eyes like that.

“I’m Kyosti, by the way. What’s your name?”

Her fingers slowed slightly. “Sanji. I’m from the north.”

Kyosti eyed her in interest. One of the Wizards was from the northern mountains, but she was the only northerner he had ever seen. “Really? Is it true the sun never sets in the north? That’s what I’ve heard.”

Sanji shrugged. “Some parts of the north. But no one can live there, of course.”

Kyosti almost sighed with relief. He had been horrified by the news that there were parts of the north that rested under the gaze of the Limitless Spyglass for all hours of the day and night, all days of the year. Sounded like hell to him.

“Where are you headed?” she asked. “To the Seer’s Camp?”

He hesitated. “Yes, I am,” he said slowly. “I….”

“I can see you’re wearing a Chith uniform,” Sanji continued. “Messenger?”

“Yes,” Kyosti replied, then quickly changed the subject. “How’d you get caught in this bush, anyway? Were you in a hurry?”

The eyebrow he could see furrowed. “Yes, I….well, nearby, I found a body…”

“A...human body?”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable. “It’s right on the other side of this prickler bush. I don’t know what killed him, but it startled me and I got caught trying to run.”

Frowning, Kyosti paused in his efforts to free her and sidled around the bush. He’d seen plenty of dead bodies before, but he had to know what had killed the man. If it was bandits, they might be in danger in this area. And of course...there was always the possibility the woman had killed this person herself, which would also be good to know.

Sure enough, a body lay at the base of a tree. A Chith man, his body twisted and broken like he had fallen trying to climb the tree. But Kyosti could see almost immediately that that was not what had killed him.

White, scaly lichen grew out of the body’s mouth, nose, eyes, from under his fingernails. 

He darted back around the prickler bush and renewed his efforts to free her. “Sanji, we have to get you out of here now. That man was killed with Kayla’s Lichen, and it’s recent. There could be spores in the air. You might have already been infected.”

“Infected with what?” she asked, smacking his hand aways as her headscarf loosened. “Careful!”

Ignorant northerners, he cursed in his head. It was unbelievable to him that she hadn’t heard of the lichen, but perhaps she didn’t realize how dangerous it was. And their slow efforts to free her simply weren’t working. “We don’t have time to wait. I’m sorry, but---”

Sanji realized his intentions half a second too late. “No, NO---”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked. Her headscarf tore and unraveled. She scrambled to grab it, but it was too late.

Blinding white light filled the clearing. Kyosti slammed his eyes closed, but it was too late. White and black spots danced in front of his vision. He tried to blink them away, but the light in his vision did not clear.

Sanji was shaking him. “Are you alright? Are you alright?”

He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t see---”

Sanji’s hands clenched on his elbows. “I told you---I told you---that headscarf had to stay on!”

He shook his head, but the white light did not fade.

“We’re going to have to run,” he muttered, pulling at her arms. “The lichen is still a danger. Help me up, I still can’t see.”

Her hands, clammy and shaking, wrapped around his arms and pulled him to his feet, leading him away from the prickler bush and the body behind it. They walked for several minutes, tripping, falling, and stumbling, before Kyosti finally let them stop. By this time, he was really starting to panic.

“It’s not going away,” he muttered. “What was that light? I still can’t see!”

He heard her quick breathing. “What did you say your name was?” she whispered, pulling his hands away from his eyes yet again.

He took a deep, deep breath, trying to control his panic. “Kyosti. My name is Kyosti Romalidan.”

“Kyosti,” Sanji murmured. “I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen . . .”

“For what?” he cried. She shhhhed him frantically. “What happened? Why can’t I see?”

“It’s my hair,” she replied. She sounded close to tears. “It’s why I wear the headscarf. I’m so sorry, but . . . you’re blind. Permanently.”

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Photo by Andrey Grinkevich on Unsplash