A boisterous group nearby erupted in laughter and broke Jularra’s concentration. Her eyes surfed over the sea of happy Messyleians before coming back to rest on Melcayro.
“If you’re going to ask her for something,” Melcayro started, but then backed up for a preface. “If we have a chance to ask anything, you'd better have a damn good bargaining chip. I don’t know what any of us could have that she might want.”
Jularra nodded.
“I think I’ve got that covered.”
***
The conversation in the mess hall only lasted for one more mug before the Acorilinians and Messyleians broke off to catch a few hours of sleep.
Beyond agreeing to set out first for the Nurudian ruins, there wasn’t much else that could be planned or predicted. No one in Messyleio—at least as far as Melcayro and Abranni knew—had any connection or communication with the witch. It was an entirely unpredictable journey with unknown dangers, but those going had plenty of reason to see it succeed.
The group met up at the corral, mid-afternoon, just outside the hidden entrance to the interior of Messyleio. After grabbing a pinch of sleep and supplies, Jularra, Melcayro, and Abranni, together with their respective warriors, saddled up and headed in the direction of the Hignriten coast.
The woods were thick with cedar, pine, spruce, and hemlock. But while Jularra usually felt at home in the forest, this unknown wood made her heart anxious. She was comfortable in and comforted by nature, but not necessarily with the things—or people—that chose to hide in them.
The dense, evergreen leaves and brush fanned out across the path, tickling Jularra's legs and obstructing her view of the way ahead. Her eyes grew tired from the compulsive flickering about, scanning for any hint of danger. She tried to reassure herself that the woman they were searching for was an ally; a friend of Vylas', who—apart from Korden—was her oldest friend. But even then, the forest’s claustrophobia—not to mention the rumors surrounding Leona—made each step deliberate and fearful.
There was little discussion as the company crunched pine needles and waved branches out of their way. The directions they had been given were vague, but the setting sun that sneaked through the trees helped them to hold their course.
A rare bit of conversation broke the silence.
“The sun is getting awfully low,” observed Wona. “Will we get there before dark?”
“I think so,” Abranni answered.
Vischuno twisted in his saddle. “You think?”
Melcayro spoke up. “My sister and I haven’t been to the ruins in years,” he said. “But the directions we acquired before we left said we'd reach them by nightfall.”
“Here’s hoping the directions are good,” said Jularra with forced optimism. They pressed on.
But the trees grew even more crowded, silently goading the group to give up as each minute the sun sank closer to the horizon.
“Your Majesty, it’s getting too dark. We really should set up a camp and carry on at first light,” urged Vischuno.
Jularra stopped and turned around. The rest of the group paused as well.
“Any one of us can start a fire in minutes," she said with forced calm, "and the sky is clear, without threat of rain. We'll keep on for a bit longer."
There were nods of agreement from her subordinate countrymen and new, Messyleian acquaintances. Jularra turned back and resumed her trek.
Just minutes later, the crowded path launched out into an enormous glade, hundreds of yards across. The rest of the group gasped and stopped just behind Jularra's outstretched arms.
Though startled by the sudden change to the landscape, the clearing made it easier for Jularra to take advantage of the gloaming’s escaping light. Trying to remain calm, she drew upon her senses to take stock of the area.
“Step back into the trees,” she ordered. If someone was watching, she didn’t want to make it easier for them. As instructed, the group took a step back. As they did, the previously clogged sight returned.
“All right. Another fucking spell. Whoever has done this must already know we're here. Step back up.”
The group stepped back up as instructed, and the large clearing appeared ahead of them again. There would be no hiding. Jularra stepped out several paces into the open, and waited.
“Jularra,” started Abranni, “perhaps we should find a different route. Like Vischuno said, we could make camp, and continue on in the morning when there’s more light.”
Jularra kept her eyes ahead, but turned her head slightly and projected so that she could easily be heard.
“No, we will not,” she replied. “Both darkness and light have their challenges.”
She beckoned the rest of the group to her side.
The others stepped up and planted their feet as they stared out onto the field, no doubt imagining all sorts of horrible possibilities, but seeing nothing. Jularra, however, did.
Far across the open field, near the opposing line of trees, Jularra watched as a swarm of spinning smoke rings tore above the tree canopy and into the sky. But instead of spinning in smooth, even circles, they spun irregularly, shooting about in bumpy randomness. As they multiplied and ascended higher, they grew and spun more vigorously. Frequent ribbons of light flashed within the smoky rings, exploding in a painfully loud crash of thunder with each burst.
The rings continued to grow in size and rise towards the sky. With each passing second, the rings grew and flew even faster until they violently cracked and separated, bolting out and striking the open field at hundreds and hundreds of points.
The smoke ring fragments disappeared where they pierced the ground. The last flash of light subsided, and the final crack of thunder echoed to distant nothingness. Jularra could
