The Proving of Champions, Chapter 8

Mountainous trees, pillars holding up the sky, were thrown down and half-sunken in mud or collapsed against other trees that groaned under their weight. Fallen trees were crushed in the middle, sinking into enormous footprints that had become ponds or mires of sucking sludge. Fleta crisis crossed the trail again, and again, and again. There was no camp netting to find, and the fire was long since doused and washed away by the night's rain. She couldn't find the stink of it anywhere. At some point, she saw a pale shape emerge from the shadows of the standing trees. Fleta felt hope, then fear it was some beast, and in the same blink of an eye, she did not know what to feel.

Alexei stood at the edge of the devastation. His array of long arms gripped falling debris like a spiny insect ready to pounce. Their eyes met in a moment of silence. The spikes sunk into his arms and shoulders, and his arms melted together. Then, all of it melted, melted away until Alexei stood before her with his long dark hair, beaked nose, and deep, dark eyes. They stared in silence. Eventually, Alexei climbed down from a fallen truck and joined Fleta.

"Terrel?" he asked.

"They disappeared maybe a half hour as the crow flies—er, a day's hike—that way. This was..." Fleta paused to choke back a sob. "Where I left Master Shaw."

"I will help you look."

With Alexei's help, they could lift some debris that Fleta could not lift alone. They even dared raise their voices to shout for him. The only sounds were the chittering and wailing of creatures for their destroyed dens or nests. When they spent too long in the open among the falling trees, birds began to circle in the strip of sky overhead, and they had to retreat to the shadow of the standing trees. Once, they were too slow, and Alexei was forced to resume his many-armed, clay-like form to fend off the shrieking bird with a darting snake for a tongue. Fleta and Alexei did not find Shaw trapped under a branch or stuck in the mud. They did not find a pack or a bow or anything. There were moments when Fleta hoped against her better judgment, but the lack of evidence spoke volumes. If Shaw had survived, he would have left some marking or track to follow. There was nothing.

Finally, they sat in the shadows, gazing out on the wreckage of storm and monster in the midst of the sprouts of new ferns, vines, and fungus growing in the settling mud.

"I let them both die," Fleta said. "I couldn't save the High Skald, and I didn't even bother to think about Shaw. I just ran as soon as I heard the Skald, and then the tarasque appeared, and everything broke."

Alexei put a hand on Fleta's with a silent, slow awkwardness. Behind them, ferns unfurled and vines coiled.

"This is why I didn't bring anyone with me to the Proving," Fleta said. "I heard the High Skald tell Hereward he didn't think I was ready, and he was worried about sending men with me. So I told him I won't take anyone. I came here without them, so this wouldn't happen." Fleta sobbed. "I'm not a champion. I never wanted to be a champion, but they needed one, and I'm not it."

"You didn't take them; they followed," Alexei whispered as she cried. "They chose this, and not just for you."

"But Shaw kept telling me to slow down. I could have saved him if I did. Why did I just run off? I might as well have killed him myself."

"If he is dead, The Jungle did the killing," Alexei replied. "You did your best to help your people."

"My best isn't enough! Sure, I'm fast, but too dumb to save anyone! I wish Thorgarick had given anyone else this speed. He should have given it to Alber, and Alber would have saved everyone. Or to Shaw. Anyone else." Muddy tendrils of vine slithed like snakes in the mud, unseen by Alexei or Fleta.

"Do you have... family?" Alexei asked.

"What?" Fleta caught her breath.

"Do you have friends or family at home?"

"My parents disappeared when I was little, a year after I joined the order," Fleta said. "But, there's a... I was friends with the archivist."

"All right," Alexei said. "What's her name?"

"Avery."

"Well, then," Alexei stood up and faced Fleta against a background of vibrant green plants where only mud had been before. "I do not know how much a monster as tall as the sky stepping on your friends is your fault. But you are stuck here, and we will save who we can and get you back to Avery. And Fleta—"

"What?"

"Run."

A vine whipped out, curling around Alexei's bicep as Fleta ducked behind him. Alexei flexed and sprouted spikes as he pulled away from the vine, shredding it. Several ferns fanned towards Alexei. He swiped at them, but they were a feint. Thick roots already coiled around his feet. He hacked at them, but although they coiled and pulled, they were as tough as hardwood. Alexei let his foot and leg whither and retreat, but the roots were already coiling around his hips and body, pulling him into the mud at the base of a tree. Fleta grabbed two of Alexei's arms. They both began to sink, and vines began to curl around Fleta. When she let go of Alexei to rip herself free of vines, Alexei sunk up to his waist in the muck. Fleta ran back to her pack, reaching for a shortsword, and remembered it was gone. She found a knife. She ran back to Alexei; the vines were quick, but Fleta was quicker.

Alexei's head and one hand were reaching above the mud. "Fleta, run! It's okay. You will think of something."

Fleta froze in horror as the Gate man who had protected her, who came running when he heard the Tarasque, sunk beneath a tree. Only when roots began to coil around her feet, too, did she flee, grab her pack, and disappear into the Jungle.