Gareth Ashford's Arc

Chapter 3 of 9

Snikka crouched at the edge of the plants and waved Gareth down. The huge red jaws leaned toward them. She pointed at the vines curling along the ground. "Step where I step," she said. "Nowhere else." Gareth nodded. His coin, and his cure, waited past the teeth. He had no choice but to follow the goblin he had chained the day before. She moved first. She pulled a dead rat from her belt and tossed it left. A maw snapped it from the air. While the plant chewed, Snikka darted right through the gap. Gareth copied her. A jaw lunged for his leg. He froze. Her hand shot back and gripped his wrist, yanking him clear. "Watch me," she hissed. "Not your boots." They crossed one careful step at a time. Snikka read the vines the way Gareth read a man before a fight. She was fast and sure, and she did not run. Halfway through, she turned to check him, and Gareth caught himself looking at her, not the plants. The curve of her, the bare green skin, the way she moved. A jaw clapped shut inches from his face. He jerked back, heart slamming. "You looking at the teeth or at me?" Snikka said flat. Heat climbed Gareth's neck. "The teeth." "Liar." She gave a slight smile. "Keep your eyes on the ground. It won't eat me for you." She faced forward again and kept moving. He fixed his gaze on her boots and nothing else. One slip now would kill them both. They reached the far side and dropped behind a fallen log. The carnivorous wall hissed behind them. Ahead sat the bandit camp in its hollow. Rough tents leaned against a wooden fence. Smoke rose from a fire. Men moved among crates and spears. Gareth counted them twice. More than six. Many more. "You said a camp," Gareth whispered. "That's an army." "Didn't count them for you." Snikka watched the fire. "Twenty, maybe." A tall man stepped from the largest tent. He wore a green cloak and a heavy belt. He barked something short, and three men jumped to obey. The rest went quiet when he passed. Gareth knew a leader when he saw one. The tall man stopped at the fence. He looked straight at the log. "Tracks in the mud," he called, loud and plain. "Two sets. Come out or burn out." Bandits grabbed bows. Spears lowered toward the log. Gareth and Snikka pressed flat against each other. They were close enough to feel one another's breath. For once neither pulled away. They had crossed the plants together, and it bought them nothing but a worse fight. "That's Erik Thornwood," Snikka breathed. "He counts better than I do." Gareth drew his sword. The safe path was behind them, full of teeth. The deadly path was ahead, full of men. He had trusted the goblin to get here. Now he had to trust her to get out.