I find the anchor on the ground and stand over it, every sense I have screaming a warning. Storms like this don’t just come out of nowhere. This has to be related to the magic of this place. I haven’t done anything to upset it. Not that I know of. I was warned to go unnoticed, and I thought I had.
I attempt to open the portal again, then again, until most of my crystals are entirely drained. Nothing happens in return for this effort except some minor crackles and fizzles in the air. I don’t get the portal to reappear. Any hope of the portal working is drained as well.
I try one more time, rain drizzling down my back, then scoop up the anchor and shove it into my pack, fixing a glare on the space where the portal was only a minute or two ago.
The very portal that accepted all those florals, then shut me out.
A prickling in the back of my mind says that this is happening because of those thoughts. The ones of the witch.
With a final curse, I move into the forest. Dead set on finding her. Confronting her. And if this was not her doing, pleading for her aid in getting home.
It dawns on me as I walk: I am alone, surrounded by potential enemies north and south of here, with no shelter, no means of escape. Fuck! I cannot see more than a few feet in front of me. It is completely transformed from how it was only a short time ago. The darkness is thick under the trees, and I make my way under the cover of the branches using the flashes of lightning that manage to get through.
No matter how the storm began, I don’t like it. I don’t trust it. I want nothing to fucking do with whatever the hell just happened.
A short distance into the forest, I find a small clearing that is mostly sheltered by branches and stop at the bank of a gnarled tree trunk. I swing my pack—now sodden and twice as heavy as it was—down to the roots and dig out a few smaller crystals, these still pulsing with power. It is concentrated power, as these crystals are meant for communication over long distances, and they are among the more precious items in my pack.
These crystals are only to be used when there are no other options.
I am still searching for another option even as I place three of the crystals in a triangle in the vee of the largest tree roots and roll a fourth in the palm of my hand. Rain batters the branches above me. Plenty of the droplets seep through and land on my head. Some of them drop down the side of my neck and onto my clothes. Goosebumps prickle down my shoulders.
I don’t see another option though. This is the last thing I wanted to do.
There’s also no telling how long this storm will last or what level of damage it will cause before it passes. If I wait until then to attempt to make contact, I do not know how long I will have been missing, or what consequences might be levied against me.
My jaw aches with how hard I grimace at that thought.
I center my focus on the crystal in my hand and mutter the call. Resentment grasps my throat.
For a moment, I’m certain it will not work—that somehow even these crystals, hidden safe in my pack, were also drained in my attempt to widen the portal.
But heat flares in my hand, and there is a subtle vibration, and the spell takes, connecting across the lands to its match. It’s fortunate that a connected crystal glows, otherwise I might not be visible to Jorge, the commander who swims into view on one of the crystal’s facets. He’s a human commander in the army and someone I greatly respect.
“Jorge,” I say as Jorge’s image shakes in the crystal. Somehow as concern mars his face, the rain comes down even harder, which I did not think was possible. The sound of it is contained in the clearing, so it seems even louder than it might if I was out in the brunt of the storm. “Can you hear me?”
His image wavers again, as if the distance between the crystals is too great to overcome. I grip it as tightly as I can without dropping it. Jorge’s voice crackles, reaching me in fragments I can’t quite make out.
Fucking hell.
“Can you hear me?” I ask again. “Jorge? Am I coming through?”
“—you returned?” he questions. “Ryker. I see you. Where are you? Have you made it back?”
“No.” A peal of thunder crashes overhead as if the center of the storm is following me. “I sent the florals through, but when I went—” A crack of thunder interrupts me. The lightning is so bright and close that it illuminates the dark clearing for a few seconds at a time. There is so much of it that it cannot be caused by natural means unless the storm is swirling in a tight circle directly above where I stand. “When I tried to enlarge the portal, it…fought back.”
“You’ve encountered hostile troops?” His voice is muddled but I shake my head in case mine is on his end as well.
“No,” I state perhaps a little too loud. I wait through another burst of thunder. “The portal slammed shut and wouldn’t open again—” A gout of water comes through the branches directly onto my shoulder and my lips form a tight line as I breathe once then twice through gritted teeth. “This storm came. I can’t summon the portal. My crystals are drained.”
Jorge nods. I shield the crystal with my hand so I can keep him in view. The droplets are drawn to the light like a magnet, and his image is magnified in grotesque ways when the droplets slide down the facet.
“Find the?—”
This time, it’s Jorge who is foiled by the thunder. His image turns cloudy, almost fading out, and I press myself closer to the tree, hoping to maintain our connection for a few more minutes.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“Find the witch,” he says, his expression calm, not betraying a hint of uncertainty about this order. “The witch. She is the only being there who has the means to help you and get you back if the portal isn’t opening.”
