Chapter 6 — Misinterpret

They ran into trouble at the edge of the thornshrub.

Mictlan gestured for them to stop; and Mira stepped up close behind him so she could peek over his shoulder. She cursed silently, and retreated back a step to whisper in Ness’s ear, careful not to touch her.

“Soldiers. An entire camp. We have to turn around.”

Traversing the thornshrub had been a risk; it occupied a large part of the forest boundary, and if they had been able to cross it, it would have cut their travel time in half, or more. The boundary of the shrub dipped and curved, and a band of soldiers had made camp in one of those bends, directly in their path. They had gambled and lost, and it would cost them half a day, if they were lucky.

The light that filtered through the twisting bramble had dimmed significantly. Ness couldn’t see the sky through all of the twisting branches around them, but she knew it would be nearing nightfall. Turning around would mean hours of retracing their steps. They wouldn’t need to carve a new path, but all the progress they thought they were making would be lost, and making camp in the thornshrub was only slightly less terrifying than trying to navigate it at night. One wrong step could mean a six-inch needle-sharp thorn through the eye.

“What’s the problem with soldiers?” Ness whispered back. “Maybe they’ll help us?”

Mira squinted at Ness, trying to figure out if she was genuinely an idiot or was just being sarcastic. She sighed, and reminded herself that it wasn’t really either one. Ness really didn’t know.

“I’ll explain later. They won’t help us.”

“Can you fight? Mictlan’s got swords. And you have spells, right?”

Mira frowned, and moved forward to peek over Mictlan’s shoulder, again. She nudged him, raised an eyebrow, and tried one of his simpler gestures.

((Fight?))

((Too many. Just me.)) He gestured at Mira and Ness. ((Magic?))

It would be incredibly risky. Stupid, arguably. Even attempting to invoke a spell would draw attention, and if it didn’t work, they would be in a worse position than they already were. If she had a normal familiar, there would be no question about it. She wasn’t even sure if her spells would work, trying to draw power through a human.

((Wait,)) she gestured, and stepped back over to Ness.

“Can you fight? What can you do?” she asked the girl, who suddenly looked like a spooked animal.

“Fight?? No, uhm… I program, that’s not going to help..” Mira looked baffled, and she continued awkwardly, hands nervously rubbing her arms. “Program, you know.. Perl, Ruby..”

“What does jewelry have to do with— ugh, forget it. Goddess, you’re useless.” She waved a hand dismissively. Ness looked hurt, but Mira was too busy to notice.

“Fuck, we’ll have to head—”

Mira was cut off by a shout from the camp just beyond the edge of the shrub, and as she snapped her head around. Mictlan had unsheathed his second sword and dropped into a fighting stance.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Mira wracked her brain for ideas, and ultimately sighed. She turned back toward Ness with an almost predatory glint in her eye.

“Ness, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“I… uh… No.” Ness shook her head for emphasis. She stopped herself from stepping back— into the thorns.

“Okay, that’s fair.” Mira snapped her hand out and clapped it on to the side of Ness’s neck, just above her collar. The girl’s eyes went wide as saucers, and she gasped.

Mira spoke, and her words seemed to resonate in dimensions beyond mere sound.

“We beg, implore, of branch and leaf and tree

“To vines that grasp, to thorns that catch and bleed

“We pray thee twist, and turn aside for we

“Who humbly cross and with respect do plead

“That those who chase, you trap and trick, mislead.”

The power surged out of Ness and into Mira, a torrent of magic greater than she had ever tried to channel before. It felt incredible. She counted her blessings that every iamb had been true, as the magic flooded out of her and spread throughout the thornshrub. The shrub began to twist and writhe, coming alive in exactly the way plants were not supposed to.

Her hope for the spell was that it would widen the path they had taken, but slow the soldiers as they tried to hack their way through and lay chase. The net result was something like that… The shrub leapt out and engulfed the soldiers’ camp, and at the same time a pathway split open before them, with a sound like wicker tearing itself apart.

In the end, they stood in a cavernous bubble of twisting shrub, stretching like a tunnel for a dozen yards in front of them, in their original direction of travel. They could see soldiers, writhing, suspended, and pinned in place by thorns. She had not asked for their blood, and while many were lanced through arms or legs, none of them seemed at risk of death.

Mictlan sheathed his swords, staring agape at the spell’s effect. Mira was equally amazed. As the two watched, gently glowing flowers bloomed along the tunnel, shedding a warm and welcoming, if dim, light. It was positively cozy, if you could ignore the angry, pained thrashing of the suspended fighters.

Ness, however, had collapsed in a heap, moaning and twitching. Mira knelt down beside her and brushed the girl’s hair away from her face. Ness shuddered and convulsed anew at Mira’s touch, who drew her hand back guiltily.

“Ness? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Y-yyyeahhhhh…” Ness half-sighed, half-moaned. “Fuuuuuck.”

“Mictlan,” Mira called, looking up at him. “Can you help her up? I can’t…” she gestured down at Ness. “I’ll just make things worse.”

Ness shuddered as Mictlan lifted her up to standing, but she was able to keep her feet. After several uncertain moments of steadying herself, she was able also to put one foot in front of the other. The trio moved down the tunnel slowly, at first. The thorn shrub creaked ominously as they walked— the tunnel continued to open in front of them and close behind them. Mira was doubly-surprised; normally for a spell to linger like this, it would’ve taken an extra stanza or two and some kind of anchor to bind it.

After about fifteen minutes of walking at the slower pace, Ness gently pushed herself away from Mictlan, and shook our her limbs. She looked a little woozy, but more steady over all; and they were able to pick up the pace. It was easy, with the wide path open before them; Ness judged it about as wide as a four-lane road.

Mictlan took up point again, and Mira fell back to walk next to— but a couple feet away from— Ness.

“I’m sorry, Ness. I didn’t have a choice. I hope it didn’t hurt too much…”

Ness was quiet for a moment, as she walked. She seemed uncertain about what to say, but eventually shook her head.

“It didn’t hurt.. at all… it felt, uhm.. amazing. Like…” She gestured vaguely, trying to find words to explain. “I don’t know. Amazing.”

They walked in silence for several more minutes.

“I don’t think—” Mira started.

“—we should do that again.” Ness finished for her, and then glanced, surprised, over at Mira. “How did I—”

“—know what I was going to say? I told you we have a sort of connection. It gets stronger after an invocation, it’ll fade.”

They walked for another couple of hours; the tunnel continued to shed dim light for them, but eventually Mira called a halt.

“I think there’s another quarter-mile of thornshrub left. Given the circumstances, we’re safer camping in here.” She gestured around the cavern-like space. As they lingered, reddish-brown fruit began to grow from some of the lower branches.

Mictlan walked over to one of the gently curving walls of the tunnel, and plucked one of the fist-sized fruit. He sniffed it, and then cut it open with a knife from his belt. He turned, and made a one-handed gesture at Mira.

“I don’t know that one..” she shrugged back at him.

Mictlan rolled his eyes, and made a different gesture. Even Ness understood this one.

((Food.))

He took a bite, then plucked a few more and carried them back to the two women.

As they rested and ate, Mira told Ness a little bit about the history of the region; about the nameless mad king and his three armies, who he set to fighting each other over a hundred years ago. They were little more than bandits, now, recruiting through gold or coercion to keep their ranks full. They and everyone else still called them soldiers, but they were aggressively xenophobic and violent. Supposedly, the king still lived, moving incognito amongst the armies, provoking them and prolonging their continued, century-old civil war.

“You mentioned a temple,” Ness asked. They had laid down to sleep; facing each other, but still a good two feet apart. “The Fox Goddess?”

“The Goddess Fox,” Mira corrected her. “We call her priestesses and those like them the crossed-spirit.”

“Do they use magic, too?”

“No, no. They mostly fuck.” Mira shrugged.

“Oh.. It’s kinda the same in my world.”

“And they give advice; kings and merchants seek their counsel, for their perspectives.”

“In my world, our kings mostly just try to kill us,” Ness murmured sadly.

Mira was quiet for a few moments.

“Enemies of kings, and your healers carve you up with knives. I’m so sorry. You must be very strong to have survived all of that.”

“Strong, but useless.” Ness squeezed her eyes shut, curling more into a fetal position. Her head rested on one arm as a makeshift pillow.

Mira sighed, frowning. “That was unfair of me. I’m sure you’re very good at jewelry in your world. I was.. frustrated. I was scared.”

“It’s not jewel- never mind. I’m scared too.”