LCoT Chapter 32

The spells were interesting, and after getting a feel for them a few hours ago, Marcus had focused on his enchanting. He worked with even more layers to put together spell forms he thought would work as enchantments. The problem he came across was that he needed more enchantments to work with—some different variations that were not from the greaves and the rings Clara wore.

After talking to the group of filthyings, Clara had told him to go with Linus and Ismay to the Ashfields to get more of the enchanted gear. This time, they planned to head deeper, where he had seen a lot more aether floating out of the ground and into the sky, where it joined up into the aether ley lines.

At first, it was quiet as they followed Marcus from behind—or at least it should have been. But he could hear the whispered sounds and whispered questions. He rolled his eyes. “Just ask the question. There’s no point in whispering. I can hear you from where I stand.”

Orlan walked over and started walking in step beside him.

“You and Clara, you’re stronger than her, right? I mean, she might take care of business, but you’re the one in charge, right?”

Marcus knew where this was headed, and he needed to stop it before any rumors could take hold. He stopped, and all those behind them stopped along with Orlan.

It felt like a moment to them, but not for him.

If he had been in charge—no, a couple of months wasn’t enough to call himself a master, to know what to do in this world enough to survive. Clara, Gabe, and the rest of them—he was sure he could not have survived, trapped under broken wheels of a carriage out in the Ashfields.

He stopped, turned, and looked straight into the other boy’s eyes.

“Stop. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. I owe her my life. Clara is the leader here, and if you cannot accept that, you can leave.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything, it’s just that—”

Marcus’s steely gaze stopped Orlan cold before he could speak another word.

“Trust me. If I was the one in charge, I could’ve probably gotten myself killed and others around me,” Marcus said as he turned and walked away.

Orlan stood still and watched his back with furrowed brows.

This was true, at least to Marcus. The first thing that had come to his mind when he found himself in this world was leaving the slums and heading to the highest cities, where he had not known any better. He could’ve gotten in trouble with the guards and probably put to a whipping pole. Marcus was grateful for Clara's early advice and help. After all, even the other street urchins avoided staying too long in the higher cities beyond the fourth wall.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Well, you did offend. So, let’s just leave it at that.”

The Ashfields were, as always, grey, dusty in some areas, and dumped earth in others. It was this dump soil that Marcus stepped in. looking down at his shoes. He could feel the earth underneath them, the thin leather soles of his worn boots.

Perhaps he would find greaves like Clara’s, and perhaps he would feel comfortable around them. Or perhaps Clara would not forget to buy him some new footwear. Ever since Clara had gotten her hands on the enchanted greaves, she wore them everywhere. With hard leather soles unlike his, he guessed she felt comfortable in them—especially in the mud and stains of Srok.

As they got closer to the halfway point in the Ashfields—the flat, raised mound approximately in the middle between the fifth wall of the lost cities and the tall trees that seemed to reach the sky—the group that was following him began to hesitate, looking around at their surroundings. Only the really desperate ever dared to get close to the forest, which was inhabited by monsters that ate the flesh of men.

But what were they to do? After all, Ivor had told them that by this time of year, the forest was much safer.

“Are we sure about this?” one of the boys stammered over his words.

“Ivor probably knew what he was talking about,” Marcus answered, looking deep into the tree canopy.

The group that had been following behind Marcus with a nonchalant and arrogant attitude now looked around with narrowed eyes and clamped together, each person watching the sides, in front of them, and behind them—looking for any odd movements that could be found this far out from the fifth wall.

And yes, it was far. Far enough that none of the scavengers that dug around in the dirt dared to step this far into the Ashfields. All the colors in front of him made for a beautiful sight.

Marcus looked around and pointed to a spot where the aether left the ground. With the amount of colors he could see floating in the sky, he suspected it all came from different enchantments.

“There. Dig there,” he said, pointing to the ground just three meters to the right of where the group had come to a stop.

“Are you sure about this?” Orlan asked, looking warily at the forest.

That was a good question, to be sure. But if they were worried about the beasts from the forest coming out, they should have begun to dig already—and then they would be out of this place.

Clara sent them out here for this purpose. Unless they didn’t do it, in which case, they would be the ones to tell her. Marcus suspected that it was some sort of test by Clara.

They looked at him and then at the dirt ground where he pointed, seemingly in confusion, as their eyes asked more questions than the words they could not speak. Orlan stood out more than anyone else.

“This is what Clara sent us here to do—unless you want to tell her that you couldn’t do it,” Marcus said, looking at them and assessing them.

Slowly, hesitantly, the group moved and started digging. Orlan, who was the last to leave his place by Marcus’s side, muttered to him.

“Just watch our backs. Let’s do this fast and get out of here.” He moved to the spot, his eyes never leaving the forest.

After the group dug the light earth away, Orlan turned to him.

“Hey Marcus, can you tell me why we’re digging here of all places?” Orlan asked.

“It’s because there’s enchanted gear down there.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“I just know,” Marcus shrugged. “I can’t be telling you my secrets.”

“Fair enough,” he swept the sweat off his face, leaving it filled with more ashy dirt.

Orlan turned to his group and started ordering them to work even faster. If there was enchanted gear or an enchanted sword, then they needed to dig—and dig hard. And they did. Unlike when Marcus had ordered them to do it, when the other boy asked his group to do the same thing, they did so with newfound strength and determination.

Marcus turned to Ismay. “How about you? Are you going to join them, or are you also on the lookout, like me?”

“No,” Ismay said with a straight face and looked away from him. “I am here to serve you.”

‘Serve me!’ he thought. ‘What did she mean by that?’ he asked. “What do you mean, serve me?”

“If we’re going to start a noble house, and Clara is the one in charge, and you are the strongest of us, it means you're the champion of the house,” she said.

“Champion of the house,” Marcus mulled it over, a hand scratching his chin—first in confusion about what it implied, then he understood. 

“No, that’s fine. If you’re looking out at the forest, then I can go and help them dig.”

“No... you can’t. The powerful—”

Before Ismay could complete the words, Marcus cut her off. “Let me guess—every noble house does things for themselves in order to get ahead of the others, right?”

She simply nodded.

“I think if you all work together, you’d all be doing better than you are.”

“But that’s not how things work,” she said.

“Well, where I come from, those who rule are chosen by others, at least based on what the people want. If all of you decide that I should be the one digging, then in most cases, where I come from,” he shrugged uncertainly, “I would be the one digging.”

She looked uncertainly at him and then back at the mountain cities, asking and wondering if they all came from the same place. No noble house rules like that, she thought, looking between him and the wall.

Of course, it was hard for her to understand. The people here needed the strong, and they served the strong for their society to survive. This was made more clear by how frightful the others had been as they approached the forest.

What could be so terrifying about the forest except the abnormally large trees? He could see nothing horribly wrong with them, but the frightful looks the group gave the forest trees indicated otherwise.

“So has anyone ever entered the forest?” he asked Ismay, since she was not looking likely—or willing or inclined—to help the others dig up whatever enchanted item was in the ground.

“Yes. Hunters are the only ones who are able to go into the forest. That’s the reason why monsters are not seen attacking the wall throughout the year.”

“If hunters go into the forest, then why is everyone scared of it?”

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head and answered the question.

“Those they send out are well-trained, and most of them are part of a noble house. And after every tide,” she continued, “the houses send out people to cull the monsters that would have remained in hiding in the forest.”

“That doesn’t seem easy,” he thought aloud as they looked at the numerous large trees that seemed to have no end as they rose and surrounded the entire mountain ranges.

“It’s not. One of the lords from the high walls always makes camp deep in the forest and always takes a few hunters—those willing to go along with him. They set up a war camp through the year to cull out the beasts.”

He nodded and she continued.

“Some nobles even go out to search for rare materials and rare beasts.”

Marcus thought it was fear of the unknown. From what he understood now, the hunters were some sort of adventurers.

As he watched, it started with a few shaking branches. At first, he thought it may have been the wind blowing in the thick forest. But then he realized something. The wind did not blow as strongly in a forest with broad, large trees.

Marcus was sure it had to be something else. He turned his head back to the spot where he saw the branches shaking and concentrated, observed it, looked at it, and wanted to find anything wrong with it. After all, if everyone was scared of the forest, it had to be for a good reason. There was no need for him to take any chances, so he looked over it carefully again. But sadly, he could still see nothing wrong in the lush forest covered in the brown tree trunks and the leaves of the smaller trees. So he moved his eyes away from the spot, looking at everything else.

When he stopped and looked back to the spot, it seemed just wrong, and he couldn’t put a finger on why. Squinting his eyes, he saw something that froze him in place. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He realized he was looking at something. Then came the second type of shock—his heart skipped a beat. Then there was fear and terror.

Something was looking their way.

It was not a normal eye. It was no human eye. That was the eye of a predator looking at its next meal, and it was camouflaged in the forest.