Feyland: The Bright Court

Chapter Eight

“Bogles!” Roy said. “Stay back. I got this.”

Jennet retreated a few paces, but no way was she just going to stand there like a noob and watch while Roy fought. She dropped the bundle of cloth, pulled her bow off her back, and nocked an arrow to the string.

With a guttural cry, the bogles surged forward, concentrating their attack on Roy. He blocked their strikes with his blade, the clang of metal-on-metal ringing through the air. The bad odds didn’t seem to bother him as he ducked, parried, and stabbed.

One of the bogles hung back, poking at Roy from the edges of the fight. Ok then - that one was her target. She pulled back on the bowstring and sighted down the arrow. Aim for the middle of the creature - surely she could at least hit it? She let the arrow fly. It struck the bogle in the shoulder, and it gave a yelp.

Not exactly what she’d intended, but better than nothing. Quickly, she snatched another arrow from her quiver, aimed a bit lower, and this time hit the bogle in the leg. It snarled and headed toward her.

In her peripheral vision, she saw one of Roy’s opponents go down. Her third arrow was nocked and ready, centered on the bogle’s chest, when the ground shook. A cloud of dust billowed out from where Roy was standing.

“Roy!” She couldn’t see a thing. Coughing, she started forward.

“Relax.” His voice came from just ahead. “Wait a second. It’ll clear.”

Sure enough, the dust dissipated fast. In a moment, it was gone - and so were their enemies. Jennet glanced around, but there was no sign of the creatures. Even the path was undisturbed, as if the earth had never belched out bogles to attack them. Slowly, she lowered her bow, then tucked the arrow back into her quiver.

“That’s it?” she asked. “Where’d they go?”

“I told you, it’s easy fights. You don’t have to kill things at this level, only injure them. Do enough damage, and they just disappear.” He eyed her bow. “Not bad with the shooting - but you didn’t need to fight.”

“Hey. It’s how I play.”

She wasn’t a fan of playing the helpless maiden, even if Roy kept trying to shove her into that role. She’d been getting the hang of the bow, too. Next fight, she’d be able to hit things much better.

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “Grab the cloth - the stream’s up ahead.” He started forward again, not waiting for her.

She slung her bow across her back, picked up the silk, and followed. It stung a little, that Roy was annoyed with her for fighting. His self-importance was so big, it squeezed out everyone else around him.

The path dipped down into a small vale. Saplings grew here, and she could hear the bright chuckle of running water. Lengthening her stride, she hurried to catch up with Roy. He stood by the waterside, illuminated by a beam of sunshine that made the copper in his hair glow. Probably he’d picked that place to stand on purpose.

“Alright,” he said. “Give me the stuff.”

Jennet handed over the bundle of silk. Thankfully, the stream was small, maybe two feet across at its widest. The bright water was clear enough that she could see the sandy bottom - no deeps and shadows where wicked water-hags could lurk. On the bank grew delicate ferns and long-stemmed purple flowers shaped like hoods. It seemed peaceful. She took a deep breath.

“So,” she said, “what do we do?”

She half-expected him to suggest they just switch the cloths and tell Hob they’d washed them. But the little goblin would know.