Chapter Text
“What do you think you are doing, Miss?”
The deep, baritone voice froze Jasmine in place instantly, a mix of startled confusion and plain aggravation evident on her face as she mentally questioned whether she had heard correctly. Jasmine gazed below from where she hung halfway down the sturdy vine, plastered against the palace walls with Filli peeping out from beneath her collar.
A stocky, strongly built man looked back up at her, an amused smirk present on his gruff face, and she swore under her breath. She had been caught in her escape and oh, so quickly at that.
“What are you doing here, Glock?” she asked wildly. It was the middle of the night! Everyone should have been sleeping by now!
An agitated caw sounded above her, and Jasmine stole a glance up at the window sill of her palace chambers from where she had climbed down the vine. Kree was circling overhead defensively.
“I asked you first,” she heard Glock growl back. “What are you doing?”
Jasmine harrumphed at this and tossed her mass of dark, curled locks. Making quick work of the rest of the climb, she jumped down from her perch and whirled to face the Jalis knight in a fury.
“Nothing that concerns you,” she glowered. Her back was against the ivy-laced cobblestones of the royal palace, and Glock’s imposing body stood in front of her like a wall. But she did not cower.
His beaded dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, powerful arms crossing over his broad chest.
“You are not my keeper, Glock,” she went on, a scowl pulling at her lips. “So, I have no need to explain myself to you!” Jasmine tried to sidestep around but, to her astonishment, the towering, lean muscle and svelte waist easily shifted to block her. She gave a muffled cry of frustration.
“Catching a little lady of the palace sneaking off into the night like a common thief? Yes, I dare say you do need to.” Glock then sneered, white teeth gleaming under the moonlight. “That is, unless you would prefer I turn you into the guards myself!”
“I am no lady of the palace.” Jasmine rolled her eyes, earning a scoff from the man. “And I was just leaving.”
“I gathered that,” he replied dryly, gesturing at the knapsack tossed around her shoulder. “And where might you be leaving to, with all of the palace jewels?”
Jasmine groaned in annoyance. “I did not steal anything!” she snapped, impatient to be gone. Thoughts of her sister, Faith, scared and all alone in the Shadowlands, hammered in her mind. She pulled off her pack and tore open the lid, holding it up for the Jalis man to examine and tapped her boot restlessly.
Glock peered into her belongings, one thin brow raised. A small collection of traveler’s items stared back at him—a fitted cloak, two pieces of flint and a coil of rope, a packet of dried fruit, some stale biscuits, and a small jar of jam. It was certainly sparse traveling, to be sure, which only increased his suspicion.
“There, see? No jewels!” Jasmine exclaimed in exasperation. “Now, why not return to your comforting ale and let me be on my way already!”
“Afraid I cannot do that, weakling.”
She scowled again at the insulting nickname, to his immense satisfaction.
“You are scheming something,” Glock went on slowly. “Where are you headed? This is hardly enough for a week’s trip!”
“Do you ever tire of meddling in affairs not your own? Why must you know?”
“I make it my business to know. So, you can either tell me now, or you can tell the guards while I carry you back to them!”
Jasmine exclaimed an expletive in frustration. She should just ignore Glock, really. What gave this brute the right to interrogate her so? Ever since they met in Rithmere all those many months ago, the Jalis seemed to go out of his way to pester her—completely unprovoked, she might add—and Jasmine was tiring of it.
But inwardly, she was also panicking. The very last thing she wanted was to wake the entire palace and have to explain herself to Barda and the others. Every second wasted arguing with Glock was another second closer to danger for her sister, she reminded herself.
“All right, all right,” Jasmine conceded through gritted teeth. “But if you breathe even one word of this to anyone else…”
Glock laughed. “Your bluffs do not scare me, little girl.”
Jasmine shot him a venomous glare in kind, feeling a robust urge to show him otherwise with her fists. But instead, she took a deep, calming breath and chose her next words carefully—he need not know the whole truth.
“Someone important to me is in need of my help.” Images of Faith’s youthful face, a mirror in time of her own and stricken with terror, flashed in front of her eyes. She crossed her arms, as though daring the man to question her more.
For a minute, Glock simply tilted his head to the side, studying her. Then, seconds later, to her surprise, he threw a palm to his forehead and barked out another laugh. “Oh, I see now! This ‘someone’ is a captive of the Shadow Lord, are they not?”
Glock snickered again as Jasmine frowned. What in heaven’s name was this musclehead laughing about?
“You intend to cross the mountain border into the Shadowlands! Am I right?” he went on, dark eyes shimmering with mirth at the idea of this puny, little miss attempting to hike through Dread Mountain alone. “What makes you believe you will survive that journey on your own, you stupid girl?”
Jasmine felt anger bubbling from deep within the fires of her belly, indignation rising to heat her cheeks. Do not say anymore, she warned herself.
But her sharp tongue did not listen.
“Who said anything about crossing mountains?” she shot back haughtily.
No, stop. Do not reveal more to him.
Glock snorted. “Will you ask your bird friends to fly you over instead?”
It was then that Jasmine’s impatience got the better of her.
“Perhaps there are more ways than one to enter the Shadowlands,” she snarled. “But I would not expect you or your thick skull to understand!”
Her hands flew over her mouth immediately after she spoke, and she cursed softly inside her head. Jasmine had had no intention of revealing what she had learned from Doran’s scriptures to anyone else.
The amused merriment vanished from Glock’s face in an instant. He took a step forward and stared at her darkly. “How can you know this?” he demanded. “What other ways are there?”
But Jasmine refused to be cowed, standing her ground. Her lips were squeezed shut and she glared back at him, green eyes ablaze with defiance. When she did not answer, Glock growled menacingly.
“I am going with you.”
It was an order, not a request. Jasmine’s eyes widened impossibly, not expecting that.
“W-what!?” she choked out, incredulous. “Why would I ever agree to that?”
“Because, weakling, you will perish within two steps of the Shadowlands,” he stated plainly. “And if you do not agree, I will hold you where you stand until the king returns, and you can explain to him your plans then.”
Jasmine stood, mouth agape. Was Glock threatening her? Threatening to tattle on her to Lief of all people? She would have laughed at the childish prospect were time not so precious.
But time was indeed of the essence, and she knew she had been cornered. There was no other choice.
Her mouth closed, set in a thin line as she considered the circumstances. She knew that Glock was also eager, as she was, to venture into the Shadow Lord’s domain to rescue prisoners, particularly his fellow Jalis, so she had no doubt he would be motivated to see her succeed. But of course, this was Glock, she was debating with herself on. She doubted they would last more than two hours before killing one another.
And yet having an extra set of eyes, from a sculpted warrior no less, could be beneficial for her journey.
Finally, after several long seconds, Jasmine sighed and gave a curt nod.
“Gather any supplies you need and meet me back here in ten minutes,” she said. “And make haste!”
Her impatience was not unfounded. Faith had herself told Jasmine that the Shadow Lord had given the order for executing the prisoners. Oh, how Jasmine prayed her sister would hold on for just a little bit longer!
Glock, to his credit, seemed to finally sense the urgency in her disposition and nodded gravely. “I will fetch Flash, and we can be on our way.”
Jasmine blinked. Flash? His fighting spider!?
Why in the world was he bringing that along?
However, before she could have a chance to protest the outrageousness of it all, a shrill and malicious voice sounded suddenly from around the cobblestone corner.
“Aha! Not so fast, you ogre!”
Jasmine immediately drew her dagger and turned to face the newcomer. When she spotted him, she could not help but groan in annoyance again.
Jinks.
“What do you want, jester?” asked Glock brusquely.
The short, portly man, Jinks, emerged from his hiding place and leered at them. He then pointed an accusing stub of a finger at Glock, someone easily twice his size in every which way.
“You owe me a rematch!” He placed a wrist to his forehead in dramatic style. “Not only did you clean poor Jinks of every last coin he owns, but ever since your spider defeated Fury, she has been insatiable!”
“Ask me how much I care,” dismissed Glock. “Take the loss like the sniveling little man you are!”
Jinks moved closer to Jasmine. “My lady, I beg you” he whimpered, continuing his thespian show. “Speak some sense to this brute, will you?”
But Jasmine simply scoffed in disgust. She would never admit it aloud, but the girl was still irked by what Jinks had told her earlier about Lief’s purpose for going to Tora. And she despised him for it.
Glock snorted. “Forget it, Jinks,” he said. “Perhaps you should complain to Sharn and beg for her charity.”
Brief anger sparked across Jinks’ face before being promptly replaced by a knowing mischief. “Or perhaps I will complain to the king instead, when His Majesty returns from his trip?” he jeered, yellow teeth curling into a sick grin. “No doubt, I will be rewarded handsomely for reporting on two traitors headed to the Shadowlands against direct orders.”
“You little worm!” Jasmine raged, finding her voice. “I should cut those ugly, eavesdropping ears right off!”
“Your tongue is a sharp enough weapon to do so, my lady,” the former acrobat snickered. “Perhaps too sharp. Is it any wonder His Majesty went to Tora without you?”
Her face grew hot as she fumed, momentarily forgetting about everything else. “I would not have gone even if Lief had asked me to!”
Infuriatingly, Jinks only shrugged and went on in a taunting tone. “No, indeed! Though I imagine the king would never ask you anything as important as he is likely asking now to a lucky Toran lady!”
Oh, how wrong this worthless little snake was! Jasmine did not care, she had convinced herself. No, she could not care less what the king and her father were doing in the magical city of the west. In fact, she would be glad to never see Lief’s face again!
“Enough!” roared Glock, interrupting the tangent. “What will it take to keep those loose lips of yours sealed, jester?”
Jinks made a show of thoughtfully rubbing his wide chin, as though he had not expected this. He hummed as he dragged on, much to their irritation.
Then, finally: “Your winnings, Glock, if you wish to buy my silence,” he demanded.
Without another word, Glock dug into one pocket and pulled out a handful of glittering gold coins in his huge palm. Carelessly, he then tossed the coins he had previously won from the same man at the ground in front of Jinks’ feet.
When the trickster greedily bent down to scoop them up and was well distracted, Glock then leaned over to Jasmine and harshly whispered in her ear. “You too, girl, if you wish to be done with this buffoonery.”
“But I am not carrying any money!” she hissed back.
Glock gestured at her bag. “The jam,” he explained quickly. “The only thing comparable to that fool’s greed is his sweet tooth!”
As if on cue, Jinks was now looking at her expectantly, brows raised, small hands overflowing with gold coins. Reluctantly, Jasmine picked the jar of red preserves from her bag and held it out to him with a grimace. His face lit up in delight when he eyed the jam.
“Ah, you know me all too well, my lady!” Jinks stuffed the coins in his pockets and moved to snatch the jar from her hands before she could say a word. “Nothing stops a mouth from moving like sticky and sweet nectar!”
Jasmine threw her emeralds to the heavens, hands cocked on her hips. “We have your word, then?” she asked dryly.
Jinks grinned again and made a locking motion with his hand against his lips. It did not matter anyway, he so badly wanted to say, biting his tongue. Where these two were headed, they will not return to tell the tale.
⁂
The night’s journey was awkward, to put it mildly.
Jasmine led the way, a copy of Doran’s map of Deltora in hand and Kree scouting diligently ahead, as they made their way north through the vast Topaz territory. Glock trailed quietly behind, the spider Flash tucked into a small wooden cage that he carried under a sturdy arm.
They spoke little more than was necessary. And just as well. He and the girl were pitted rivals after all, opposed in almost all things, but now they had been forced into an uneasy alliance together.
When Jasmine explained her plan to him, Glock could hardly believe it. An underground passage to the Shadowlands!
The thought of it almost made him laugh aloud again. But when she then revealed that her schemes were derived from none other than a birdsong of Tenna’s, a tale as old as Jaliad, he immediately seized at the same hope. This strange girl and her wild ideas were the only things he had to go on.
Seventeen long years had passed since the Shadow Lord invaded Jaliad, the capital of the Jalis tribe, the ancient home of his people. Seventeen long years since he, as a young boy, witnessed his own kin being ruthlessly cut down, and the survivors enslaved.
The new, little king had repeatedly rejected his proposals to raise an army and invade the Shadowlands in kind. But Glock could no longer allow himself to sit idly while his people suffered.
And now, here was his chance to do something. Anything.
So it was that he did not question Jasmine when she directed them to the Os-Mine Hills, of all places. The hills which were notorious for being a lawless vacuum—something the girl must have known—in the otherwise well-governed territory, and a dangerous venture for any traveler. Indeed, her ideas were becoming ever so ridiculous that Glock had perhaps a glimmer of hope that they bore maybe a modicum of truth. In any case, she at least seemed confident in what she was doing.
After some time, when the companions felt they had put enough of a distance between themselves and their starting point, they stopped to make camp. The palace was still barely visible atop the grand hill, but was now a faint smudge in the background. Having slipped away in the middle of the night, neither of the two had had any sleep.
Jasmine glanced up at the night sky, littered with speckles of stardust and commanded by a glorious full moon. She figured they had maybe a few more hours until dawn. Wordlessly, she took one of the flintstones from her pack and lit a small fire for the two of them.
Glock’s huge frame knelt on the grassy knoll across from her, staring at the crackling flames silently. His pencil-thin brows were creased as if deep in thought—though she doubted much thinking occurred in that dense skull of his.
For perhaps the first time, Jasmine was able to study the Jalis knight up close and seriously. Broad shoulders dropped sharply to a lean waist before flaring back outwards to strong legs. His thin, cotton shirt hugged his form, barely able to contain his powerful arms, and outlined his hardened stomach. His forearms were lightly covered with dark hair, and slabs of muscle abounded everywhere else one looked. The warrior was normally an intimidating figure, gruff and loud—almost savage, as many liked to describe him.
But now, quietly musing without the boisterous boasts and mocking taunts, Glock seemed…different.
He looked lost. Unsure, but determined nonetheless. About what, Jasmine could only guess.
Filli peeped out of her collar then, interrupting her thoughts, and chattered at her insistently. Jasmine nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out a dried fruit and handing it to the furry animal to nibble on. He took the snack gratefully and gnawed on it, relishing its sweetness and peering around. But when his tiny eyes landed on the large spider sitting in the cage next to Glock not ten feet away, Filli abruptly screeched in agitated fear.
Jasmine murmured comforting words to her charge as he dove back into the shelter of her collar.
“You can speak to the rat as well?”
Jasmine looked up and frowned at Glock’s words. He had a pensive gaze, head tilted as he regarded her curiously. She looked away again awkwardly. “Yes.”
“Those rumors…” Glock went on muttering, shaking his head in disbelief. “I had not thought them true until just now.”
“And what rumors might those be?”
It was pointless to ask. She already knew of the endless, ridiculous gossip about her, winding its way around the palace like a malevolent, suffocating serpent. Jasmine was well known by now as the girl who had come from the forest, who grew up outside of civilization. Yet, other than Lief and Barda, many were skeptical of her unnatural ability to speak to the trees of her home or to her exotic and constant animal companions. Still others thought her a witch, one who wielded magic as strong as any Toran and brewed many a potion that had empowered their quest to restore the Belt of Deltora.
Glock’s face darkened. “Never mind,” he grumbled.
The man quieted again and returned to glowering at the campfire. The soft flames licked upwards, illuminating his rugged, chiseled features. In the orange glow, Jasmine could just about make out the short stubble adorning his sharp chin, his dark black tresses tied back into a neat ponytail that fell to the blade of his back.
“Are you able to speak to Flash?”
“What?” she asked dumbly, snapping her gaze back to his beaded eyes.
“Flash,” he repeated, an impatient growl. “Could you communicate with her too?”
Jasmine raised a brow. “I doubt it.”
Glock seemed visibly disappointed at this, and an awkward silence descended between them once more. She watched with mild amusement as he picked the spider pen up and glared at the creature within, as though willing it to speak.
Finally, Jasmine sighed and beckoned at the cage. “Pass her over to me.”
Hidden, keen joy jumped into his eyes at her words. Eagerly, but with great care, he handed the small cage around the fire to Jasmine, who then gazed at the huge spider. Flash stared back noiselessly, angry red eyes meeting pearlescent green. Long, spindly legs covered in deadly hooks stretched and contracted lazily, as if practicing on an imaginary enemy.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jasmine could see Glock watching her with an intense interest.
There was an emptiness within Flash, the girl noted. Few complex thoughts, if any, could be found with the spider. Like others of her species, Flash plainly was bred only to fight and to do little else. At some point, though she did not know why, Jasmine had stopped merely humoring Glock and was now seriously trying to connect with his spider. But no matter how hard she tried, Jasmine found she could not.
Minutes went by, and nothing changed. The arachnid stayed quiet, glaring back at her with a blank, emotionless stare.
“Flash says that she thirsts for battle,” Jasmine said slowly. It was a lie, she chided herself. The spider had said no such thing to her—but Jasmine figured the small fib was a harmless one. And she wagered that Flash really was hungry for combat, all the same.
Glock grunted, satisfied, and swiftly fetched the wooden cage from her hands.
“A Jalis spider by another name!” he shouted in approval, patting the top cover of the pen affectionately.
Jasmine smiled to herself as Glock roared in laughter.