"Eh fuckin' what?!"
"He runs a paramilitary group. They call themselves Bloodhounds for short," she explains again.
I hammerfist her desk, causing a loud bang and some papers to fall off. "How the fuck did you end up with them?"
She gradually takes a deep breath and lets go at the same pace. "Neto contacted me personally, through the Email on my blog. He said that I'm proficient and offered to work together. He told me about his various exploits in Peru, Suriname and Chile. I let slip that I'm currently in pursuit of this immortality trinket and his whole demeanour changed.
"I guess he really was just going to work with me on something else, but now that he knew that I knew, well, he wouldn't let me go. He kept grilling me for information, Liz, and talking about 'shutting me up' if I didn't comply." She puts her elbow on the table and rests the side of her face on her hand. "It's all my fault."
"...oh my God, Eve, I didn't know it was like that," I comfort her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Now I feel like an ass about my outbursts. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"Thought–" she starts sniffling and wipes her eyes with her sleeve—"thought you'd blast me for being an idiot..."
"Hey hey, it's alright lass, it's alright," I console. I pull her in for a hug and let her release the tears on my chest instead. I pat her back over and over.
"There, there, Evie. Let it all out..."
It takes a few minutes for her to stop bawling into me. She takes a few tissues from her desk and wipes her face clean. "Th–thanks for that, Liz. I'm gonna go take a shower now," Yvette croaks. With that, she leaves the study with her feet dragging.
Yvette's always had an affinity towards treasure hunting, or whatever you'd call her line of work. From the first day we were friends, she would slip in geography patter into normal conversation all the time. I've no fuckin' clue what an 'arroyo' or a 'guyot' are, but seeing her explain it to me with gusto when I asked made me feel all warm inside. It's no surprise she ended up wanting to explore the world in her adulthood. It's good and all that she's following her passion and everything, but I thought she'd lay all of this to rest after that incident a year ago.
<<
A year ago.
"Pierniki?" the yellow and purple packaging on the shelf piques my interest. "What're these?"
"Gingerbread with plum filling. Put it in the basket, I've heard people say it's good." Into the basket it goes. We finish our snack-spree and go to the counter to checkout.
"Dzięki," I thank the cashier after he finishes bagging all of our items. "You're welcome," he replies smiling. My accent betrays me yet again. I take the bags and we walk out of the convenience store. Yvette beams at the snowfall and plays with a snowflake that landed on her hand.
"Warsaw's stunning this time of the year, innit?"
"And cold." I rub my shoulders trying to keep myself from shivering. We get into our rented Fiat and stuff all of our goods into the backseat. I open the left-side door and, um, well.
"Passenger side's this wa–"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Takes a bit of gettin' used to." I wave her off and circle around to the actual passenger door. The inside of the car's got a few stains that shouldn't be there and a few creaking parts, but nothing we couldn't handle.
"Right," Yvette swipes and clicks on her GPS after starting the engine, "it's about 470 kilometres from here to Białystok. From there, the Białowieża Forest will be just around the corner."
The Białowieża Forest, favourite hunting ground of King Władysław Jagiełło the Second. He liked that place back in the 15th century. Yvette's interested in the amount of relics that might be scattered about. If we get something good from here, I'm certain the National Museum will give us a nice finder's fee. That's if she decides to not pocket the relics.
"So this, thing, the crown Vlad left back in 1410 when he was restin' on it, it's just gonna be lyin' there buried beside that tree? What was its name? Och, I forgot already."
"Well it's hardly going to grow legs," she chortles out. "The tree's called 'The Jagiełło Oak', you don't remember?"
"There's at least a dozen other named oaks in the forest you've told me about, pardon me for bein' a bit scatterbrained."
We've packed all of our necessities in the boot. Bow and arrow, tents, water, radio and so on. This oak is quite far in the centre of the forest, so we're making sure we have all the things needed to last for a few days. We're also hopin' the villagers are accommodating enough. Mind you, we don't want a room or anythin' from them. We just want to be allowed in. I know how it feels for foreigners to muck about in your home without your permission.
Yvette takes a left turn and we're now on the highway. I watch the lorries, cars and motorcyclists go by absent-mindedly while we're cruisin' down at 100 kilometres an hour. Hell, it could even be more, the speedometer's looking pretty ragtag. This is gonna take a while.
>>
The sound of the engine shutting off rouses me, as well as Yvette's voice. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
She's already out by the time I really gather my bearings. A quick look at my watch shows that it's late in the evening. I get out and go to the boot to ready myself. First-aid kits and tent go into my backpack, climbing axe and radio go onto my utility belt, arrows into my quiver and bow slung across my chest. I fish out the map of the forest and pass it onto Yvette.
She mutters under her breath for a few moments, looking at it. Oof, this part of the Białowieża village is scarce. There's only 10 or so houses, a well and a few people wanderin' outside from what I can see.
She rolls up the map and puts it aside for a moment. "Your job's easy, Eliza. Just stand there and look pretty. I'll handle the talking. Got it?"
I give a thumbs up. "I can only do one of those things, but alright." We start sauntering towards an old man sitting on his porch. His beard is thick and grey, contrasted by the top of his head being empty. A walking cane's leaning against the wall next to him too. He checks all the boxes for a person that looks like they're full of wisdom and experience. He stares at us with ever narrowing eyes as we make our way closer.
Yvette greets him in Polish and does a little bow. He offers to shake hands, eyes still not peeling away from her. She clears her throat and begins the explanation. I'm not well-versed in Polish at all, hence the statement from Yvette earlier. I'll just finick with my bow string for now.
She introduces her name and mine to the man, in addition to some other matters. She points to our bags and seems to be trying to convince him that we're here on research purposes only. The man nods, stroking his beard. Yvette spouts some more Polish and points to the forest this time. Knowing what she means, I rub my chest in a circular motion as to say please to the man.
He keeps stroking his beard for a couple of seconds.
"Bądź ostrożny."
Yvette sighs in relief, so I'm guessing that's a yes. She thanks him in Polish and I extend the palm of my hand from my chin to his direction. We start making our way inside the premises of the Białowieża Forest. With the heavy sleet falling around us, I'm grateful we spent extra on these snow boots.
"What exactly did you say to that geezer earlier?"
"Just explaining why we're here. If you're curious, he's fine with us going in. But," she looks back to see the man glancing at us, "he's... apprehensive. Told us to watch ourselves."
"Aye, I could see that." We step over a few chopped-down trees and branches. "Wonder why, though?"
She brushes the matter off and unfurls the map. "Probably just some old-man paranoia."
"I'd hope so."
YOU ARE READING
Ice: The Immortality Trinket
Adventure"Cheers, mate," I thank the man in front of me as I receive a kebab in return. I begin walking off to find a spot to sit at in dear old London. Always rainin', always depressin' with you. I set my eyes on a seedy bench near a dark alley. Definitely...
