Forty Six: Distraction Duty

Jordan put his back to a tree and held his breath. Behind him, the Listener let out a low growl that reverberated through his whole body, reawakening images of the two occasions one of these things had almost killed him.

Panic pressed at the edges of his mind, but he forced himself to focus on listening. If it walked away, he was in the clear. All he would have to do was wait until it was out of earshot. If it didn't...

Snapping branches sounded, dragging him back from his hopeful imaginings. It was getting closer, so that he could almost smell the rankness of its hide. He prepared himself to signal, and spotted a flicker of movement two trees away as Astra flattened herself against a nearby trunk. Once she was sure of his attention, she signalled in the opposite direction. Koen was behind the demon. Jordan let out his breath. The only one capable of taking a Listener knew it was there, which meant he only had to....

A growl thundered up the decibels into a roar; the Listener had sensed Koen. Of course. Astra and Jordan were downwind of it, but if Koen was behind it then the demon would smell him despite it not being its strongest sense. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention to Astra's signals.

She made another sign and pointed one direction, then the other. His heart sank. His new worst-anticipated element of his training stared him boldly in the eye.

Distraction duty.

He tensed as the Listener's footsteps began to thump in the other direction. At another signal passed between them, he and Astra both took off in different directions through the trees – and of course, he thought, because Listeners had a thing for him, the demon turned around and came after his trail. He focused only on not tripping over as he ran, ducking and weaving to take advantage of the demon's lack of sight, and prayed silently that Koen was keeping up. He knew that Yddris waited on the side-lines to step in if things got dire, but if it got as far as Yddris then he could count on an extra few hours of training the next day.

He darted in a hairpin turn around a tree, and felt the Listener's presence veering much closer than he'd expected.

"Thorne, duck!" the shout came from behind him. Jordan dived into a bush and crouched. The demon behind him roared, and several shots of green rocketed past and dissipated to mist. When sounds of pursuit didn't continue, Jordan peeked over the top of the bush and found the Listener face down in the leaf litter with Koen standing over it.

"Sorry," the other apprentice said sheepishly. "My aim was a bit off. But enough of them hit to kill it, at least." He leaned over his knees. "I hate casting runes when I'm running."

Rustling nearby announced Astra's arrival. She walked in as casually as could be expected, being the only one who hadn't been chased by or gone pelting after a full-grown Listener. She looked down at the body, and then at each of them in turn. Jordan sheepishly straightened from his hiding spot inside a tangle of branches, brushing dead leaves from his cloak and readjusting his hood. He'd rather have been caught by Astra squatting in a bush than Yddris, however, as at that moment a black-cloaked figure also strode towards them through the trees. Jordan flicked flakes of mud from the sleeves of his cloak and then hid his cuffs behind his back.

"Good," Yddris said. He nudged the Listener with his boot. "There's a rumour that there's a Scrub Wight lurking around on the other side of town..."

"There's no rumour," Jordan said, scowling. "You've baited it here."

"Such accusations," his tutor replied. He pulled his pipe from an inner pocket. "Remember Scrub Wights are venomous. And they spit."

"Oh, fantastic," Jordan grumbled. Koen groaned. Astra only waited, her aura giving nothing away. They had been out all morning, and even though the Listener had left her alone, she'd done as much running around as him and Koen. Why she didn't look like she was about to buckle from exhaustion confounded him. He certainly felt like he was.

"It's not deadly venom," Koen said. His own fatigue didn't go very far towards reassuring Jordan. Koen was supposed to be the one doing the killing in this session. "But if you get any on your skin you'll have boils for a week."

"Boils? Oh, joy of joys, why have you not mentioned this before?"

A hard impact on the back of his head forced him to cut it short before he bit his tongue. He rounded on Yddris, but his tutor was already out of reach. "Stop complaining, boy. It gets harder than this before it gets better."

"It does," Koen admitted. "Then right as you reach the end it becomes nightmarish."

Jordan sighed. There was no point fighting it, he knew. He had to learn how to do this if he wanted any chance of surviving long enough to get home, or failing that, get Grace home, or failing that, being able to make them a life here. He found it harder and harder to picture what his life might have turned out like if the Gift had never chosen him. Would he still be working at Kedrick's inn? Would he be officially courting Laurel by now? Somehow, he didn't think so. Arlen had found him long before the Gift had. Perhaps it wasn't that he couldn't picture it, but that he didn't want to picture how things probably would have played out. He clenched his fist against an urge to scratch the sudden prickling of his tattoo.

They skirted the Guildtown's main net, coming off it and wandering back on in turns as the thickness of the vegetation demanded. The town wasn't even situated in the deepest part of the forest, yet in some places the trees were so vast and the brush so thick that it would have been impossible to get through without shredding clothes and skin on thorns and broken branches. Only the smallest of demons would be able to get to the town border through that tangle, but where the cover grew thin bigger species lurked...or were baited in by sadistic tutors to torture apprentices with.

They came across the Wight before they reached the other side of town. As soon as Koen sensed it he stopped Jordan and Astra with a motion. Yddris was abruptly nowhere to be seen. A moment later, Jordan picked up on the demon too, a ripple in his sense of the forest's undercurrent. The only sign it was there, to anyone who wasn't Gifted, was a light rustling several feet away, likely indistinguishable from the wind if one wasn't listening for it.

"Right, remember that this one relies on smell and sight, not hearing," Koen whispered. "It can spit seven feet. It looks alone now, but if it's female it might be in heat, so keep half an eye out for males." He sighed. "The rune sequence is really complicated and I can't do it in motion, so you might have to get a bit close and personal."

"I'd rather have got close and personal with the blind one than the one with torture spit," Jordan muttered back. Koen only shrugged in an apology.

"We can work together to keep it too confused to aim," Astra said. "Do you have anything bigger than a dagger on you?"

After a moment of hesitation, Jordan pulled out the hunting knife Arlen had given him and tried not to look like it was something he shouldn't own. It had no identifying marks on it, and Jordan had long since cleaned the blood off it from the warehouse job, but it was still tainted in his view. It almost took him by surprise that Astra and Koen accepted its existence without any question.

"Great," she said, casting around. She ducked down and came back up with a thick fallen branch. "Here's mine."

"A weapon worthy of a master," Koen said.

"Making the rest of us look like amateurs," Jordan added.

Astra wiggled it around threateningly. "Don't make me test it out on you two."

The demon grunted, closer than before. Jordan peered around the edge of the tree just as it lumbered into a clear patch between two trunks. Its skin was greenish and rough-looking. It was smaller than a Bone Wight but otherwise looked very similar, aside from two thick white nodules under its throat, presumably where the venom was stored. Jordan eyed them with trepidation.

"Right, show time," Koen whispered. He slunk away, circling the demon downwind. Jordan and Astra glanced at each other and then split off in opposite directions to enter the clearing from both sides. Jordan approached from the flank, hunting knife out ahead of him. It occurred to him belatedly that he had no idea how to use a knife this big with any effect. Yddris had only just started teaching him how to use a dagger properly.

Stab and dodge it was, then. The demon noticed Astra first, growling and lunging in her direction. Jordan ducked in and jabbed it from behind with his knife, and found himself the focus of a furious yellow gaze. His blade barely broke the skin, but his audacity for trying seemed to piss it off enough. It stalked towards him, lowering on its front legs for a pounce, and then whirled round again with a snap as Astra's stick cracked across its spine. With a sound like a retch, the demon spat at her. She dodged by a hair's breadth and left it to ooze down the tree where she'd been standing.

"It'll be a full minute before it can do that again," she called out. "So focus on minding its teeth."

"Easier said than done." Jordan scrambled to the left as the demon charged him. A rustle announced Koen's arrival, already drawing runes.

"Cover Koen." Astra's instruction came out strained as she sparred with the Wight, whacking it smartly around the head as it tried to grab her stick. It soon seemed to tire of it, lunging instead for Astra herself. Jordan pulled his dagger free and threw it before he could think too much about it. It stuck at the base of its neck and elicited a bone-chilling howl.

His amazement at actually hitting something was short-lived, and he paid for it by dodging another spit just a fraction of a second too late. He winced as several droplets landed on his boot and instantly bleached the leather.

Koen leapt past him, trailing a rope of green fire. In his hands were two blades of green, and as the rope coiled past and wrapped itself around the creature's muzzle, he shoved the blades crosswise through the creature's jaw, piercing the venom sacs and dislodging Jordan's dagger as they emerged from the back of its head. Its grumbling cut suddenly short as it slumped to the forest floor. A few spots on Koen's boots also turned pale with spilled venom.

"And why is it important to drain the sacs?" Yddris said, appearing from between the trees as if they'd never parted.

"No idea," Jordan muttered. He kicked his dagger about in the leaf litter to try and rid it of any lingering venom before he picked it up.

"Because they burst when the demon dies," Astra said. "Projectile."

"That's right," Yddris said. "And I think you've probably earned lunch by now."

"Thank god," Jordan sighed. Compared to other training sessions, he'd had worse in terms of sheer exertion, but there was something about taking demons head-on that was exceptionally draining. He followed the group as Yddris led them back towards the town, keeping close in case there were more Scrub Wights lurking around. Whatever had lured the dead one close, though, only seemed to have worked on the one. They reached Thirris's house without seeing even a hint of other demons, despite how far out they had walked for the training session.

"Smells good," Koen said, speeding up as they approached the door. Jordan's stomach pinched with hunger.

Thirris met them in the front room. "How did it go?"

"What are you cooking?" Koen said at the same time. "I'm going to eat my own hands in a minute."

"It's on the table," the old Unspoken said with a chuckle, shaking his head. All three of them hurried past, leaving Yddris to give feedback on the session. As Jordan slipped past, Thirris called, "Yerrit sent something down for you, Thorne."

The painting. Jordan stopped, torn between the smell of food and being polite. "Did you look at it?"

"Should I have?"

"It's my contribution to the wall."

He ducked out, stomach winning over all other thoughts. Thirris had set out a table in the garden – Jordan couldn't guess where he'd been hiding a table so big – and Koen and Astra had already dug into a hot meat stew with fresh bread. Hap sat on the other side of the table with his stick between his knees, watching his apprentice with an air of disapproval.

"I don't know how many times I have to warn you about making yourself sick, Koen," he said. Jordan shunted himself onto the bench next to him.

"Where's the meat from?" he asked.

"A hunting party came back this morning. From the mountain slopes." Hap gestured vaguely. "At least somewhere still has some game." He looked around at them all. "Well, you lot certainly look like you worked hard."

"Didn't need any help," Yddris said, finally joining them at the table. "Couple of wobbles, but all the demons ended up dead and no one got injured. It was a good session." As he leaned across Jordan to reach the bread board, he added, "Watch out, boy, I think you just made yourself favourite of the season."

"Huh?"

Thirris left the house still clutching the canvas in both hands. "Surely you aren't giving me this, Thorne?"

"I...well, yeah," Jordan said, flushing. "Do you like it?"

"Let the rest of us see," Koen protested around a mouthful. Thirris turned the canvas around, showing the landscape to the whole table. As was always the case, Jordan picked up several mistakes in the differing lighting that he hadn't seen while it was still on the easel, but kept his mouth shut and shrank in his chair at the scrutiny. Yerrit's own work, when he had shown some of it, had left Jordan picking his jaw up off the floor. He was certain everyone just exaggerated when it came to his.

"It's brilliant, Thorne," Thirris said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Thank you."

Jordan just bobbed an awkward nod and filled his mouth with food so that he didn't have to find something to say.

After lunch, Koen rushed Jordan back out of the house as an excuse to avoid Hap sending him on more training. Jordan would have been just as happy to lie down on his bed and sleep the afternoon away, but agreed to go out when the other apprentice slyly put in that Chip and his son were leaving in the next hour or two, and would be heading for the Reach. He'd almost forgotten about the merchant.

"What were they here for, then?" he asked, tucking his letter to Grace into his pocket. "I assumed they were going further out."

"Nah," Koen said. "They wanted to make a few trade deals with us. Rook, who you met, makes pottery that the Orthanians pay through the nose for, and fur and hides are much easier to come by through us. He was carrying supplies we can use and sell on when people visit. Not everyone thinks their family will fall down dead from a curse if they trade with us, thankfully."

"Is that a thing?" Jordan could believe it, but didn't want to.

"For some." If Koen had any idea how depressing these little titbits were, it didn't seem to affect him. "Others think we'll pass the Gift along with the goods. Not possible, by the way."

"Oh thank god. I was worried about that time I sneezed on someone in the street," Jordan said dryly. Koen laughed.

Koen led him on a roundabout way through the trees to avoid the worst-trodden paths. Despite the dryness of the last few days, the relentless rain had turned the thoroughfares into bogs one could easily lose a boot in. After the activity of the morning Jordan couldn't stroll through quite as casually as he had previously, even though he knew there were several layers of rune protection between him and any demons. The flicker of a bug or the sudden rustling escape of a startled deer had him whipping round expecting a glimpse of yellow eyes or dripping teeth. He only ever found trees staring back at him, rank upon rank of thick, damp growth, tangles of brush and the occasional bobbing head of an early flower in patches where the thin light most easily reached the ground. He was finally starting to relax, enjoying the first signs of an impending light season, when Koen stopped on the path so suddenly that Jordan almost bumped into him. If he hadn't had several months of training to be observant, both with Yddris and now with Arlen, they would have gone tumbling to the forest floor in a tangle.

He didn't have time to appreciate the improvement. Koen's caution was always a cause for concern.

"Over there," he said, and strode off into the trees, cutting off the path altogether. Jordan followed, straining to see what Koen had spotted. Nothing jumped out at him, literally or figuratively.

"You haven't had your session with Hap yet, have you?" Koen asked, skirting around a tangle of thorny bushes and coming to a stop. Jordan looked around. At Koen's words, he realised he was looking far too literally. He turned his attention to the shimmer of a rune net around them, partially concealed by the ground cover.

"No. Is there another broken one here?"

"Not broken yet. But it looks like someone was working at breaking it. The patrol sometimes comes through here, maybe they were disturbed."

Jordan's gut tightened. If they had still been out in the deeper reaches of the woods, he would not have been as worried, but they weren't far from the Guildtown centre. This net undoubtedly protected some homes.

"Can you tell from here if one of the big nets has failed?" Jordan asked. "They took out a big one last time."

He stared between Koen and the trees as the other apprentice thought for a moment. Then he sighed. "No. Too far out. Do you remember the way back to Thirris's?"

"I think so."

"You head back there and warn Hap. I'm going to shore this one up and go find Cara. Okay?"

"Yeah." Jordan started off, and then remembered the letter in his pocket. "I know it's not a priority right now, but if you do see Chip, can you..."

"Of course." Koen took the letter and stuffed it in his own pocket. Feeling a rush of gratitude, Jordan turned back the way they'd come and set off at a jog. Now he wasn't watching the trees for demons, but for cloaked figures that didn't belong, mysterious patches of air where no aura seemed to reside. If he let himself think about it for more than a few seconds the fear rose to choke him, memories of the attack in the castle still fresh as a wound despite the intervening months and the possibility that there were half-dead bodies running around inside those garments making it all worse, so much worse.

He sped up into a run.

"Hap!" he called, as the trees cleared and he burst out in front of Thirris's house, where a figure with a walking stick was just stepping out.

"Thorne?"

"What's going on, boy?" Yddris demanded, appearing at Hap's shoulder.

"Frayed net," Jordan said, wiping his face with one hand. "Koen's fixing it up and going to fetch Cara. He asked me to come back for you."

"Again?" Yddris said. "Where?"

Jordan swallowed. "Close to the centre. Really close, actually. We haven't determined whether any other nets are out."

A stunned silence met his words as the implication settled in.

"I'll take Thorne to the nets," Hap finally said. "I've been meaning to show him for a while and this seems as good an opportunity as any. Cara will want your help organising a sweep of the town, Yddris."

"I know." His tutor, for once, seemed genuinely agitated. "Once is chance, twice is a suspicious coincidence. But if one of those things is running riot out there, you shouldn't be..."

"Stab it," Jordan said, producing his hunting knife and holding it up. In contrast to the demon hunt that morning, it provided a comforting weight and length now. Yddris stared at it, and it occurred to Jordan that perhaps he hadn't got around to telling his tutor that he had it. "Koen can distract it, then Hap can trip it up and I'll stab it. And then we throw fire at it to cover the escape."

He didn't feel even a fraction of the bravado that was in his voice, and he knew Yddris wouldn't be fooled by it. Night take him, Hap wouldn't either. The last thing he wanted was another run-in with one of those magic-wiping blades, but he told himself he knew what it did now, and that there were plenty of Unspoken who were unaware of the danger and potentially in a lot more trouble.

"Well, you seem to have it planned out," Yddris said drily. "Fine, fine. I'll send Henrik out to you if I can find him."

He jogged away. Yddris was not the type for 'be careful', but Jordan sensed his anxiety and felt oddly touched by it.

"He's fond of you, you know," Thirris said from the doorway. The Unspoken appeared, arms crossed. All their auras were spiking in the air with the stress, but the old Unspoken sounded outwardly calm. "Would throw himself on a Marrowhawk's butcher pike before admitting it, but he is. Be careful, won't you?"

"Aye," Jordan said. His bravado wavered, but before he could falter entirely, Hap gestured him on.

"After you, Thorne."

Clutching his hunting knife like a talisman, Jordan turned and walked into the trees.