The Great and Terrible: No Monsters Like Hers
The Great and Terrible: Chapter 6

The most tantalizing aroma lured me from a hazy cloud of peace, warmth, and safety. I blinked open my eyes, frowning as different facts crystalized on after the other. Bright morning sunlight meant, well, morning arrived. I lay on a blanket, on my side. Last thing I remembered, Jasher was snoozing, and I was making an inner vow to remain on guard.

Clearly, I’d fallen asleep. At some point, he’d woken up and covered me with a small blanket. A kind gesture from a not so kind guy. Despite his movements, and the threat he presented, I’d remained deep in slumber. Vulnerable. The thin but soft material currently draped my curled-up form.

More surprising, the compass still hung from my neck. He hadn’t stolen it. Guess he didn’t have a stable.

Now, the heartless executioner sat before a fire pit, roasting last night’s catch: the skinned boar-thing. A far uglier beast than I’d realized. A flight of those three-eyed rainbow birds circled overhead, as if they waited to pounce on the meal. Green flower petals floated and twirled in a gentle breeze. Rushing water provided a lovely soundtrack and an even better backdrop, only a short jog away. Every so often, a horned fish breeched the surface.

Shirtless, Jasher remained deep in thought. Discarded armor had been piled near his feet. I didn’t mean to notice his beast-killing muscles, but they were right there. Well-defined, packed under dusky skin, and covered in ornate tattoos. Goodness gracious, were they covered in ornate tattoos. Images spanned his entire chest, both arms, and dipped below the waist of his leather pants.

From here, I could make out a handful of faces among the inked canvas. They appeared raised, like scars, and a part of me really, really wanted to study each one up close and personal. To help my cause, not for any other reason. The more I knew about him, the less likely I was to irritate him into ditching me. The pulse fluttering in my throat and wrists meant nothing.

Fine! It meant something. My fingers itched to draw him, okay. To capture his essence while he tended the fire. Beads of sweat dampened his rough and tumble features, causing locks of black hair to coil at the ends and stick to his temples. Those incredibly long lashes cast shadows over the sharp rise of his cheeks. A necklace with small black stones hung from his neck, and two ax handles extended over his broad shoulders.

I’d only ever desired to draw the monsters. Or rather, the monstra. Why deviate now, with him?

“Hungry?” he asked without glancing up.

Startled, I scrambled upright and noticed two unconscious people gagged and bound with thin silver bands hidden in the shadows behind him. A man and a woman. Are you kidding me? I had slept through their capture, too?

“While I whiled the night away, you apprehended the bounty hunters, dug a firepit, and prepared breakfast.” Dang. Anyone could’ve snuck up on me at any time and done anything, and I would’ve been defenseless. Do better. “The only thing you didn’t do is set off before first light, as promised.”

“You refused to stir,” he informed me. “I attempted to wake you up, but you repeatedly patted my face and muttered the word snooze.”

“No, I did not.” My brow wrinkled. “Did I?” And he’d let me?

“You did.” He skewered pieces of meat onto a thin stick.

“I apologize.” In more ways than one! “I wasn’t aware.”

“That, I know.” He stood and strode over to offer me the stick and a newly filled canteen. His blank expression never wavered. “I decided to take care of the problem.”

“This is for me? Thank you.” I accepted both treasures, asking, “What are you going to do with the hunters? You can’t harm them without breaking a law.” Maybe. What did I know? “Fair warning, I refuse to serve as your substitute.”

“If I do the harming in Lawless Forest, where there are no laws, there is no transgression. Hence, no death required.”

Lawless Forest. The same woodland I must enter to reach the City of Lux? “Are you saying no one has to die for breaking a rule in the forest?” Best to clarify. “We won’t risk a crimen or a storm?”

“Correct.”

Well. The downside must be, well, lawlessness.

“Fair warning,” he said in a mimic of me. “Everyone who enters the forest is cursed to die a violent death. Eventually.”

Ding, ding, ding. We were damned if we did and damned if we didn’t. “What I’m hearing is that you can steal the compass as soon as we enter and face zero consequences.”

“Except I’m not a thief. I value my word.”

A rare, admirable quality. But did he value honesty too? He must. We weren’t in the forest yet.

Jasher didn’t return to the fire, but hovered over me. “Are you sure you wish to continue to the city? I promise you, things will only get worse from here. The beastie isn’t the only predator roaming the woods.” He motioned to the roasting animal. “That is a beastie, in case it wasn’t clear.” Then he pointed to the sky. “There’s also the birds.”

Knew they were a problem! “They’ve left me alone so far.”

“Yes. So far. They prefer to strike while you are spiced with terror. First, they’ll pluck out your eyes. Then they’ll go for your tongue.”

I shuddered. “Keep calm. Got it.” I raised my chin. “If you hope to convince me to return to the Wests, too bad so sad. I’m sure I wish to continue to the city. Yes, please and thank you.” Nothing would stop me. “In case it’s not clear, I’m certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced.” Let there be no misunderstanding between us.

He revealed no reaction; he simply offered a stiff nod and said, “Supplies are at the riverbank. We leave in half an hour. Be ready.” Boots flinging flower petals, he returned to his spot, donned his armor without a shirt, then picked up the backpack and the end of the silver cord. He dragged the still sleeping bounty hunters toward the river.

“What are you going to do to them?” I called.

Reverting to his default setting of ice cold, he ignored me, entering the water. He swam the pair across, cutting through the current as easily as a knife through melting butter, all without being stabbed by the fish. He didn’t even miss a stroke when the hunters awoke and fought for freedom. Nope. Not Jasher. He subdued the pair with sublime skill and great ease, gliding on.

How was I supposed to deal with a machine like him? I should have taken self-defense lessons while I’d had the chance. A survival course. Something!

The trio disappeared within the foliage, entering Lawless Forest. Well, well. Jasher had willingly and without hesitation cursed himself to a violent death. Whether the information proved true or not, he believed it.

Did I? Because soon, I’d have to enter, too, to get home.

With the half hour countdown clock front and center in my mind, I devoured the juicy and yes, tasty meat, and drained half the canteen on my walk to a secluded spot to answer nature’s call. Those creepy, face-eating birds watched me, and I performed deep breathing exercises to remain calm. Nothing I could do about them for the time being.

At the riverbank, I discovered the ax man had left an assortment of jars. Things I recognized from bath time with the chorus babes. Soap. Scrub. Oil. Toothpaste. He just traveled around with such delicacies in his pack? What a pleasant surprise.

I washed my hands and face, and brushed my teeth and hair, then braided the mass again. Wishing I had a clean change of clothes, I cleaned up the site and carried the jars to camp.

Sunlight hit the scar on my palm, and I scowled. West’s brand. The raised tissue in the shape of OZ appeared translucent, revealing swirling pieces of glitter inside it, as if the whole thing flowed with a force all its own. I wanted it off immediately.

Maybe I should risk cutting out a large hank of my flesh. Yes, I was about to embark upon the most important journey of my life. Yes, strength mattered. But I had a protector desperate to collect his payment now.

“Let’s go,” the executioner said, startling a yelp out of me. He stalked into camp sans the bounty hunters. His wet hair stuck out in spikes. He stuffed the jars into the pack. Silent, never glancing in my direction, he marched off, leaving the fire roaring and the beastie roasting. An act of careless disregard or a gift for the next travelers?

“You cursed yourself,” I pointed out as I rushed to catch up with him. I’d wait to injure my hand. Get a feel for Jasher and our pace first.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “I was already cursed.”

Oookay. “And you are sure I’ll be cursed when I step past the trees?”

“The very second.” He paused. “Still certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced you want to do this?”

He’d memorized what I’d said. “Is there another way for me to get home?” Please, please, please!

“Not to my knowledge.”

My chin dipped. “Then I’m extra sure, certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced.”

We stopped at the water’s shore. He fisted and opened his hands. Evaluating the wisdom of our bargain?

I gave him space, letting him think, studying him. Beneath the massive axes crisscrossing his back, the muscles between his shoulders bunched. I tried not to stare at the tree trunk tattoo branching from his spine. Well, from every other vertebra, at least. The others were covered by pieces of metal that mimicked a backbone. A piece of armor or sewn into his body? I couldn’t tell. Severed heads dangled from the tree’s thorny limbs, each face screaming in torment.

An ode to his job? He loved it that much? A shudder rocked me. Daddy said I saw too much, but with Jasher, I couldn’t glean enough. What I wouldn’t give to discern his inner workings.

“I have three rules you will obey,” he announced, finally speaking up.

I swallowed a groan. “Okay, I’ve got my listening ears on.”

“Do what I tell you when I tell you. Say nothing until I ask a question. And do not lag or you’ll be forced to continue on your own, compass or no compass.”

Irritation bristled over me, but I uttered not a peep. He probably regretted our bargain already. No way I’d give him an out or rock the boat so early in our journey.

“You may respond,” he grated.

Disappointed I hadn’t spoken out of turn right out of the gate? “Dorothy sang songs and skipped arm in arm with her Tinman, but mine demands I bottle my flavor.” How was that for a response?

He whipped his head in my direction. Our gazes snagged. “Did you say…bottle your flavor?”

“Maybe.” I humphed at him. What did the people of this world know of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, anyway?

“Will you abide by my rules or not?” he demanded, maintaining the connection.

I opted for honesty. One, we hadn’t entered Lawless Forest yet. And two, I hated lies. They only ever complicated matters. “I can’t guarantee anything. I might forget in a moment of panic or temper.”

A pause as his magnificent sunset eyes swirled and…glowed? “Who are Dorothy and Tinman?”

His soft, curious tone threw me. He wasn’t going to complain about my coming disobedience?

I gulped, desperate to look away from him but unable. Of course, he didn’t look away, either. He stared as if he couldn’t get enough of the sight of me, and it proved unnerving. Too intense, too quickly. “She’s my prototype, and he’s a nemesis, apparently.” A question had been answered, at least. The citizens of this world knew very little of the tale. “By the way, if we encounter a lion or flying monkeys, keep walking.”

“We will absolutely encounter lions and flying monkeys. I’ll consider it a miracle if we walk away instead of crawl. Especially with the monkeys.” He mimicked my earlier shudder, even though I’d been behind him and he hadn’t seen it.

I gripped his shirt, forcing him to face me fully. A foolish move I couldn’t retract. “Are you teasing me? Tell me you’re teasing me.”

He arched a brow. “Are we in the forest yet?”

Groaning, I pressed my brow against his sternum. Another foolish action.

With his taunt hanging between us, Jasher pried my hands from his clothing, turned, walked into the river. I wasn’t far behind, despite the newest threats: his inconvenient magnetism and those danged lions and monkeys.

The beautiful scenery provided a nice distraction. Crystals glistened from the river’s bottom, visible through the clear, ice-cold water now soaking my sandals. My calves. Goose bumps spread from limb to limb the deeper I ventured. The water beat harder, too, threatening to carry me away. Still, I sustained a decent pace, lumbering forward without incident until the water level climbed and I lost the solid foundation.

Though I fought the tide with every ounce of my being, kicking and paddling as if my life depended on it, the stream snatched me. I tried to holler for help and accidentally swallowed the sweet-tasting liquid. Coughs not words left me.

Panic flared, making me delicious bird food. Before I could wash away, Jasher spun and clasped my waist. He frowned at me.

“I’ve got you,” he stated, as if surprised by his actions. He leaned into the current, swimming for us both.

Calm chased away my fear. “Thank you.” I clung to him, thoughts whirling. Okay, so, he was a heartless executioner, an unparalleled survivalist, an unwilling escort, a culinary genius, and now a life guard. Was there anything he couldn’t do? “I’m usually a great swimmer. I even won awards in high school, but the current is stronger than my will.”

He grunted in response. “You’re talking.”

I’d take that as you’re welcome. “The armor doesn’t weigh you down?”

Another grunt.

Translation: No. “Come on. We haven’t entered the forest yet. That means our journey hasn’t officially kicked off. Your rules are currently inactive. I’d love to learn a little about you, but I’m happy to tell you stories about your mom’s homeland. Rescuer’s choice.”

A third grunt. But he also said, “I trained with the armor and learned how to use it to my advantage.”

Such a warrior thing to say. Also a shock. I thought for sure he’d request information. “Well, I’m impressed.”

His frown returned, and for a moment, he looked as if he’d never received a compliment before. Which was silly. Of course other people had praised him.

Oh! A horned fish popped from the water mere inches behind him, then splashed back down. I pointed. “What’s that?”

“A piscina. No need to fear them unless you cut yourself. They only react to blood.”

Good to know. I relaxed more and more into his grip, wishing to voice a surplus of questions but determined not to overwhelm him with all things Moriah today.

He gave a low grunt. “Go ahead. Ask.”

How well he read me. Meanwhile, I struggled to unearth the slightest clues about him.

I decided to let myself issue a lone, non-personal question. “How long until we reach Lux?”

“Anywhere from seven days to a month. Depends on how many injuries we sustain at the hands of other bounty hunters, trappers, flora, and fauna.”

Ugh. Even seven days seemed too long. “Flying in a hot-air balloon would be faster.” Or the winged horses my mother had painted. “And probably safer.”

He arched a brow. “Do you have a hot-air balloon?”

“Well, no,” I grumbled.

Seconds passed in silence.

“That’s it? That’s all you wished to know?” He spit out water. “We’ll reach the forest in less than two minutes, and I’ll expect silence from that point on.”

Did he want me to get personal? My pleasure! “How’d you get into the execution business? Did you always dream of chopping off heads? Attend a special school to learn where to aim?”

“I’m an enforcer in the Guardian’s royal army. All soldiers go through a decade of specialized training. We learn the wisdom of doing our duty, always, no matter the situation.” His tone and posture never changed, and yet tension wafted from him.

A decade, hmm? His training had to begin at a very young age, yet his mother had hailed from my world. So who was his father? How had Jasher become a child soldier? Through a mandatory selection process? On a volunteer basis? I wanted so badly to continue the Q and A, but I sensed Jasher would shut me out entirely if I continued along that particular path.

Guess I could read him, after all. I switched my focus to the man I sought. “Can’t say I’m as enamored of the Guardian as everyone else. He recruits and teaches kids how to be killers.”

“He does what’s necessary to save the people of Hakeldama from monstra, sparing hundreds of villages and thousands of lives.”

Defensive now. “Killing innocents to pay for someone else’s crime has filled those villages with monsters of a different sort.” My teeth began to chatter from the cold. Maybe from guilt and regret, too. “They are just as bloodthirsty.”

“They are fearful.” His voice tightened at the end. “If the girl hadn’t died in your place, the entire village would have perished. The monstra are…” Hatred pulsed from him, icy and electric. “They are pure evil. Worse than the beastie. The monstra consume everything in their path. Nothing and no one are safe. They can be stopped only through death, yet they are nearly impossible to kill.”

My mother had said something similar, with a caveat. The hero king. He helped from beyond the grave. I wished I recalled the specifics but though I wracked my brain, I came up empty.

I considered the beings I’d seen in West’s office. The loathing and rage I’d perceived in their eyes promised devastation as great as Jasher predicted. Greater even. A good reason not to mention my drawings. Or that I longed for a pencil and pad of paper to etch a creature even now.

“Will the Guardian agree to take me home?” I asked.

Jasher thought for a moment. “I’m unsure. He can if he so chooses, but he’ll demand a hefty price. He always does. How much are you willing to pay?”

“Silvers again,” I muttered. “They are currently the bane of my existence. I’m happy to work for my money. I do it at home, night and day. But how am I supposed to earn quick wages here?”

“We’ll be visiting a village or two to pick up supplies. You can sing and dance for silvers. Or sell a limb to cannibals. Or sign up for a night in a pleasure room. Though I’m told the workers experience little to no actual pleasure.”

“Sing and dance it is, then,” I said with a sigh, and he snorted. “Whoa! A moment of amusement from the robot. Wonders never cease.”

“I experience emotions,” he replied without, well, emotion.

A little laugh slipped from me. Then another and another. Jasher’s expression softened, making him appear almost bemused. His hold on me softened, too, and our gazes met. In an instant, all good humor fled. A new lance of awareness pierced me.

He was more human than I’d realized, and I didn’t know what to think about that.

“I’m not used to someone brave enough to look me in the eye,” he muttered.

Showing mercy, I looked away first. Cleared my throat. “Be warned. Singing isn’t in my wheelhouse. I figure everyone will pay me to stop.”

“That makes me more eager to hear your first performance.”

First amusement, then an almost joke? Where had the ice man gone?

“What is it you do for silvers at home?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“I tend my family’s farm and wait tables, serving food to strangers.”

His brow wrinkled. “Did you always dream of doing this?”

“I’ve never known what I wanted to do with my life,” I admitted. Nothing had ever felt right.

We reached the riverbank and lapsed into silence once again. I clambered to shore; Jasher glided there. Droplets dripped from his hair and rolled over his wealth of swells and hollows. Unfortunately, I didn’t experience the miracle of instant drying, as I’d done at the Governor’s Guild.

Wringing excess water from my braids, I examined the area. Huh. The bountiful fruit trees I’d drooled over no longer showcased an abundant crop of deliciousness. Barren branches taunted me. They couldn’t have shed their supply so quickly. No produce lay on the ground. Had critters eaten everything?

Frustrated, confused and yes, saddened, I focused on Jasher and the dry clothing he thrust in my direction. A tunic and a pair of leathers. Next he dropped a pair of combat boots at my feet. Almost my size. Dare I ask where they’d come from?

Screw it. I wished to know. “You pilfered these from a bounty hunter, didn’t you?”

“The leathers and boots, yes.” His harsh tone suggested I not whine about it. Or else.

Ah. There he was: the heartless executioner able to chop off heads without a moment of remorse.

Won’t wallow in guilt, won’t wallow in guilt. The hunters had planned to return me to West against my will. They weren’t—hadn’t been?—good people.

“Change.” Spinning on his heel, Jasher offered me his back. A shockingly gracious move and probably not something he did for just anyone. Being an “enforcer,” he must have trust issues and an aversion to vulnerability. By allowing someone to stand at his six, he risked attack.

“Thank you,” I rasped. Overjoyed to exchange the wet material for dry and the sandals for the boots, I made the switches in a hurry. The scent of sandalwood and orchids filled my nose as the top settled into place. The same incredible scent I’d encountered at the public execution. His scent. I breathed deep, savoring, and tried not to hate myself.

Though he never glanced over his shoulder, he knew the exact moment I finished tying the boots. Once again, he strode forward, expecting me to trail him. Which I did. We paused at the beginning of a road. It wasn’t yellow, but gray and rundown, with smears of red here and there, and it led straight into the forest.

“If ever we get separated,” he said without glancing over his shoulder, “stick to the path. Some refer to it as Dead Man’s Pass, but all know it’s the safest route to Lux.” He started forward, his boots thumping against the stones.

“The name doesn’t exactly evoke confidence. And that’s the last thing I’m going to say. For now.” I followed him, silent as advertised, shuffle-stepping the closer we came to the forest entrance. An arched opening banked by two towering trees with interconnected limbs overhead.

Though Jasher passed the threshold without pause, I hesitated. Did I truly want to do this?

Just before he disappeared into a thicket, I sprinted after him. Yes. Yes, I did. Curse or no curse.

A sudden, sharp burning sensation on my left hand wrenched a gasp from me, and I glanced down. Frowned. A bruise appeared on the base of my ring finger. Uh, what’d I do?

The pain was forgotten as my instincts shouted, Danger! My breath quickened, and my gaze darted. The gray path wound through clusters of gnarled trees, where more of those three-eyed birds perched.

Trepidation overtook me, an inner storm I couldn’t halt. Funny thing: it, too, came with destructive monsters. Namely doubt—was I a fool for doing this? And worry—what if I failed my father?

“Oomph!” I slammed into Jasher when he stopped abruptly yet again. To steady myself, I flattened my hands against his back. Yikes! The heat of his skin. The hardness of his muscles.

“Focus,” he snapped.

Right. “Apologies,” I mumbled.

He started forward, silent. I tracked him, switching my concentration between his form and the landscape. Around a cluster of trees, large flowers dazzled in a wild assortment of colors and shapes. In fact, each resembled a musical instrument of some sort. From horns, to guitars, drums, and even saxophones. Hmm. My ears twitched. They might even emit a soft melody.

I listened more intently. They did emit a melody! And what a lovely song. Slow and sweet, with a steady heartbeat hidden within the chorus. I stopped and closed my eyes, savoring the serenade. I’m not sure how much time passed before I decided I needed to get closer. Needed to sift the petals between my fingers and feel the heartbeat against my skin.

Yes, yes. My feet carried me over. The base of my ring finger burned again, much hotter than before, and I frowned. Perhaps I shouldn’t do this. But mmm. That song. I bent down and reached out…

A strong grip on my wrist halted me just before contact. Gasping, I looked over my shoulder. Jasher. He towered behind me, scowling.

“These are sirenes,” he snapped. “They will inject you with toxin that liquifies your organs and drowns you in your own blood.”

Realization dawned slowly, horror nipping at its heels. The flowers had lured me using a siren’s song. And I’d let them.

Jasher released me, and I backed away from the cluster. The burn in my hand faded with every step I took. Interesting.

“Assume everything in this forest hopes to kill you. Because it does.” Jasher swept his narrowing gaze over me. With a tinge of accusation in his tone, he added, “The lovelier it is, the deadlier.”