Marduk removed the stimulant from my pack while I was tying my boots.
I watched him put the vial on the shelf.
"Give that back."
"No."
"It's mine."
"Then you'll be delighted to find it exactly where you left it when you return."
"I didn't leave it there."
"You do now."
I tightened the second boot harder than necessary.
The sky outside was beginning to lighten. Barely. Grey through the gaps in the shutters.
Three days.
That was the agreement.
The Aurelian Heart had entered its ripening window, and somewhere beyond the western ravines an unknown number of animals had probably noticed the same thing.
Marduk had noticed something else.
Apparently, my pack contained too many useful ideas.
I pointed toward the vial.
"It reduces fatigue."
"It hides fatigue."
"We've had this conversation."
"Then why are you trying to have it again?"
"Because circumstances changed."
"No."
"Your condition changed."
His face became very still.
Cheap.
Again.
I knew it the moment I said it.
Marduk picked up my pack, opened it and removed the second knife.
Then one of the sample jars.
He replaced both with dried meat.
"What are you doing?"
"Correcting your priorities."
"I may need the knife."
"You have one."
"Redundancy."
"Food."
"I have food."
"You forget to eat."
"I forget nothing."
Marduk looked toward the forge.
I followed his gaze.
Yesterday's dinner was still sitting on the corner of the workbench.
Untouched.
I sighed.
"That proves nothing."
"It proves soup goes cold."
He added a packet of salt.
Then dry cloth.
Then the padded case for the Heart.
The whole thing was infuriatingly sensible.
"You've made the pack heavier."
"Food does that."
"I've spent a week learning to reduce effective load."
"For five heartbeats."
"Eleven percent."
"On a stationary stone."
"Approximately eleven."
"Carry the food."
I took the pack.
The straps settled against my shoulders.
Heavy, but manageable.
Marduk tightened one buckle before I could stop him.
Then another.
He was doing too much with his hands.
Adjusting.
Checking.
Rechecking.
The behavior was familiar.
Worry, disguised as maintenance.
I pretended not to notice.
He pretended not to be doing it.
Our relationship had become remarkably efficient at dishonesty.
"The upper ravine," he said.
"I know."
"After the cedar break."
"I memorized the map."
"The lower crossing floods."
"I know."
"Do not use the limestone shelf if it rains."
"I know."
"Raymond."
I looked at him.
He had that expression again.
The one he used when he was deciding whether a sentence was worth allowing into the world.
"Three days."
"I gave you my word."
"Your word negotiates."
"Only when the other party becomes unreasonable."
"Three."
I adjusted the strap.
"Three."
He nodded.
Then coughed.
Not badly.
One hand against the table.
Three breaths.
He straightened.
I waited.
"Done staring?"
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"An unfortunate side effect of having eyes."
He opened the door.
Cold air entered.
"Go."
No dramatic farewell.
Good.
I preferred it that way.
I stepped outside.
After perhaps ten paces, Marduk called after me.
"Raymond."
I turned.
He threw something.
I caught it.
A pair of dry socks.
I looked at him.
"Really?"
"The ravine."
"Yes, yes. People lose toes."
He shut the door.
I smiled despite myself.
Then started west.
By noon, I stopped smiling.
The first section was easy.
Too easy.
That should always make a person suspicious.
The western path descended through cedar and broad-leaf growth into damp ground where the stream split repeatedly around dark stone.
I followed Marduk's map.
Yellow rock.
Then cedar break.
Upper ravine.
The rain from the previous week had swollen the water but not enough to erase the route.
I moved steadily.
No gravity.
There was no reason to spend mana making a backpack slightly lighter when legs could do the work.
Magic was becoming less impressive the more intelligently I used it.
That was probably healthy.
At the first stop, I ate.
Without needing Marduk to appear from behind a tree and insult me.
Another sign of maturity.
Terrifying.
The terrain changed after the cedar break.
Trees thinned.
Limestone replaced dark volcanic rock.
The ground became uneven and pale, cut by narrow channels where rainwater had dissolved the surface.
Excellent footing if one enjoys sprained ankles.
I shortened my stride.
The map showed the upper ravine less than an hour ahead.
Then I found the first gold-backed insects.
Three of them.
Tiny.
Moving along a crack in the stone.
The same kind Marduk had shown me at the quarry.
I crouched.
They moved west.
Toward the basin.
Good.
Also bad.
The Heart was likely there.
Which meant everything that ate those insects knew it too.
I rose.
From that point onward, I stopped thinking of the journey as travel.
It became approach.
There is a difference.
Travel asks where you're going.
Approach asks what can see you getting there.
I checked the wind with a pinch of dry grass.
From the west.
Toward me.
Useful.
My scent would trail away from the basin.
I avoided the stream where tracks concentrated.
Instead, I moved along the higher stone, testing each step before transferring weight.
No broken branches.
No unnecessary speed.
At the entrance to the ravine, I found droppings.
Fresh.
Scaled fragments inside.
Drake.
Probably small.
Then tracks.
Three-toed.
Multiple sizes.
I didn't recognize all of them.
That mattered.
I wrote nothing down.
No need.
Chessmaster arranged only what I could verify.
Drakes present.
Several.
Moving toward the basin.
Large predator uncertain.
Heart likely active.
Wind favorable.
My mana reserve untouched.
Daylight: perhaps five hours.
Options:
Continue.
Observe.
Withdraw and approach tomorrow.
The last was safer.
It was also expensive.
One day of Marduk's three-day limit gone without confirming the Heart.
I continued.
Not because danger demanded courage.
Because the information justified movement.
There is a difference there too.
The ravine narrowed.
Water whispered below the stone.
The walls rose on both sides until the sky became a pale strip above me.
Then came the smell.
Sulfur.
Animal musk.
Something sweet underneath.
Fruit.
I slowed.
The Heart.
Close.
A scraping sound came from ahead.
I dropped behind a shelf of rock.
Waited.
A drake crossed the opening.
Not one of the large coastal breeds.
This one stood perhaps waist-high, long neck, folded membrane along its forelimbs.
It moved carefully.
Head low.
Another followed.
Then another.
They were not hunting.
They were waiting.
Interesting.
I remained still for nearly twenty minutes.
My left calf began cramping.
I changed position slowly.
Then the basin opened beyond them.
Marduk's map had reduced it to a circle and three lines.
Maps are charming that way.
They remove the parts most likely to kill you.
The western wall curved inward around a shallow hollow.
Water dripped from a seam in the limestone and fed a narrow pool.
Above the pool, rooted in almost bare stone, grew a low plant with broad dark leaves.
At its center hung the Heart.
Smaller than I'd imagined.
About the size of my fist.
Gold beneath translucent skin.
No divine radiance.
No choir.
Just fruit.
Dangerously expensive fruit.
And fifty paces away, lying beneath an overhang, was the reason the smaller drakes weren't approaching it.
Marduk had called the animal an Apex.
Not a species.
A category.
A predator old enough, large enough and territorial enough that other predators modified their behavior around it.
This one looked like a heavy drake that had been assembled by someone working from an incomplete description.
Four powerful legs.
Broad chest.
Short folded wings.
A long tail ending in a hardened spur.
Old scars around the muzzle.
The creature rested with its head raised.
Not asleep.
That ruined several possibilities.
I backed away.
Slowly.
No sudden movement.
The small drakes noticed me.
One turned.
Then dismissed me.
Good.
I retreated into the ravine until the basin disappeared.
Only then did I breathe normally.
My first plan was excellent.
Which should have worried me.
The drakes wanted the Heart but feared the Apex.
The Apex tolerated them because they remained outside its immediate territory.
Force enough drakes across that boundary, and the Apex would engage them.
I did not need the animals to kill each other.
I needed thirty seconds.
Perhaps forty.
Reach the western wall.
Cut the Heart with enough stem to preserve it.
Put it into the case.
Leave through the upper exit.
Simple.
Every disaster begins by looking simple from far enough away.
I spent the remaining daylight preparing.
Not traps.
I lacked time.
I prepared incentives.
One of Marduk's dried meat rations suffered an unfortunate promotion from dinner to strategic asset.
I mixed it with fish oil from my food packet and the crushed shells of the gold-backed insects I'd collected near the trail.
The smell was offensive.
Excellent.
I wrapped the mixture in cloth.
Then prepared three stones.
Ordinary stones.
No mana enchantment.
I didn't possess one.
Just carefully selected size and shape.
Enough to strike rock loudly at distance.
My gravity would be reserved for movement and one emergency intervention.
Perhaps two.
I could produce a modest reduction for several heartbeats.
More if the target was small.
Less under stress.
Mana did not care how important I found the situation.
Before dusk, I climbed to the shelter marked on Marduk's map.
A shallow overhang.
Dry enough.
I ate.
Drank.
Changed into the dry socks.
I hated how satisfying that felt.
"Smug bastard," I muttered.
Marduk, miles away, was probably enjoying himself.
Sleep came in fragments.
The basin was active through the night.
Calls.
Scratching.
Once, a roar deep enough to vibrate through the limestone.
I woke with my hand on the knife.
Then forced myself to release it.
No threat visible.
Save energy.
At dawn I returned.
The Heart had changed.
Its skin was brighter.
A thin line of gold ran through the stem.
Ripe enough.
The Apex had moved closer.
Bad.
The small drakes had doubled.
Worse.
And on the eastern wall, where yesterday there had been nothing—
Simian tracks.
Long hands.
Narrow feet.
Several animals.
Unknown number.
I stared at the prints.
Chessmaster reorganized the board.
New competitors.
Mobile.
Climbers.
Likely attracted either by insects or fruit.
Unknown behavior.
That should have been enough to stop the plan.
It almost was.
I considered waiting.
Let the simians make the first move.
See how the Apex responded.
Better information.
Lower risk.
But waiting consumed time.
The Heart might fall.
Be eaten.
Be damaged.
Marduk might—
I stopped.
That was not data.
That was fear wearing an accountant's coat.
I returned to the plan.
Modified.
The simians became another variable I could not control.
So I gave myself an earlier withdrawal condition.
If they entered the western wall before the diversion, abort.
If the Apex failed to commit, abort.
If I spent more than a quarter of my reserve before touching the Heart, abort.
Good.
Rules made before fear arrived were useful.
I moved into position.
The wind remained favorable.
I threw the first stone.
It struck limestone near the drakes.
Three heads snapped toward the sound.
Second stone.
Farther left.
The group shifted.
Third.
Then the bait.
The wrapped meat landed just inside the line the smaller drakes had refused to cross.
One drake rushed.
Then another.
The Apex stood.
Everything changed.
Its movement was faster than its size suggested.
One moment resting.
Next moment charging.
The smaller drakes scattered.
Good.
Then regrouped around the bait.
Better.
The Apex struck at the nearest.
Noise filled the basin.
Wings.
Stone.
Animal calls.
No glorious battle.
No elegant predator duel.
Just confusion.
I moved.
Low.
Fast but not sprinting.
The first ten paces were level.
Then wet stone.
I shortened my stride.
The Heart stayed visible.
Twenty paces.
The Apex drove one drake away.
Another circled behind it.
Thirty.
A simian appeared above the western wall.
Damn.
Abort condition.
I should have stopped.
Instead I recalculated.
Distance to Heart: perhaps fifteen paces.
Simian above it: twenty.
Apex occupied.
Mana full.
Exit behind me.
Possible.
I continued.
That was the decision that broke the plan.
The simian dropped.
Long arms caught the wall.
It landed beside the Heart before I reached it.
Its eyes fixed on the gold fruit.
Then on me.
No fear.
Curiosity.
Worse.
I lunged.
The simian grabbed the stem.
I grabbed the branch below it.
The animal shrieked and kicked.
Its heel caught my forearm.
Pain.
Grip loosened.
The stem tore.
The Heart came free.
The simian had it.
"Wonderful."
It ran.
I followed.
The clean extraction was over.
The animal crossed wet limestone on four limbs with insulting ease.
I could not.
My boots slipped twice before I corrected my pace.
Another simian dropped between us.
Then a third.
Not attacking.
Intercepting.
Chessmaster arranged movement.
First animal carrying Heart.
Second blocking direct route.
Third moving toward my right flank.
Upper ledge open.
Lower route slick.
I did not know what they would do next.
I knew only where they were.
I went left.
The blocker followed.
Good.
I changed direction.
It changed too.
Fast.
Too fast to outpace.
So I stopped trying.
It expected pursuit.
I gave it collision.
One step forward.
Hands high.
It jumped.
I shifted half a pace off line and caught its forearm rather than its body.
Momentum continued without me.
The animal landed badly, rolled, recovered instantly.
I gained three paces.
Breath.
Don't sprint.
The carrier was climbing.
That was the real problem.
If it reached the upper wall, the Heart was gone.
I used gravity.
Not on myself.
On the loose stone beneath its rear foot.
A tiny reduction.
Just enough.
The stone shifted earlier than the animal expected.
Its foot slid.
It dropped one arm to catch itself.
The Heart slipped from its hand.
Fell.
Bounced.
Rolled toward a narrow channel.
I changed direction too fast.
My right boot lost traction.
My shoulder struck the wall.
Not catastrophic.
Enough to numb the arm.
I hit one knee.
The Heart continued rolling.
I pushed up.
Pain spread from shoulder to neck.
Ignore it?
No.
Assess.
Arm moved.
Grip weak.
No obvious dislocation.
Useful enough.
I reached the channel just before the fruit.
Caught it with my left hand.
Warm.
Far warmer than expected.
The Heart pulsed faintly against my palm.
For one absurd moment, everything became quiet.
I had it.
Then the basin roared.
The Apex had returned.
Not because it understood my plan.
Not because it was insulted.
Because the drakes had scattered and the strongest concentration of mana in the basin was now moving away inside my hand.
Of course.
My assumption had been wrong.
The Heart was the territory.
Not the hollow.
Not the pool.
The resource itself.
And I had just stolen it.
I shoved the fruit into the padded case.
Closed the catches.
The golden pulse dimmed.
Not vanished.
Dimmed.
The Apex started toward me.
Distance perhaps forty paces.
It was limping.
Good.
Still faster than me.
Bad.
Three simians remained close.
Worse.
I had two exits.
Upper shelf.
Shorter.
Dryer.
Safer terrain.
But the first climb required both hands.
My right grip was compromised.
I could still make it if I abandoned the case long enough to climb, then retrieve it with the rope.
Except the simians were already watching the case.
I looked toward the lower gorge.
Longer.
Wet.
Narrow.
One-handed movement possible.
Bad route.
The better option was obvious.
Leave the Heart.
Climb.
Live.
Return another day if anything remained.
Marduk's voice arrived from memory.
Three days.
Turn back.
I looked at the case.
Then at the approaching Apex.
There are moments when one discovers whether principles survive contact with consequence.
Mine did not.
I chose the bad route.
I ran toward the gorge.
The first simian reached for the pack.
I twisted away.
Its claws caught canvas.
One strap tore.
The weight shifted violently to my left shoulder.
I stumbled.
Recovered.
Breath out.
Keep feet under hips.
Do not let panic lengthen the stride.
The gorge narrowed to a path beside fast water.
Wet limestone underfoot.
No room for lateral movement.
Good in one sense.
The Apex would struggle to turn.
Bad in every other.
Behind me came scraping.
Closer.
I crossed a gap between two shelves.
Too wide for a normal step.
I used gravity on myself.
Small reduction.
Eleven percent under perfect conditions.
Probably six now.
Enough.
I jumped.
Landed short.
My left foot caught the edge.
I pitched forward.
My right hand hit stone instinctively.
Pain shot through the wrist and shoulder.
I rolled onto my side before my face met the ground.
The case remained strapped to my chest.
Good.
Behind me, the Apex entered the gorge.
Its shoulders barely cleared the walls.
That slowed it.
The simians stopped.
They had better judgment than I did.
I got up.
My right hand shook.
Grip nearly useless.
I had prepared one Alchemia compound for muscular support.
Not a new function.
Not miraculous adhesion.
A tested resin-shell mixture designed to reduce fatigue in the forearm for a short period.
It sat in the side pouch.
Using it now would cost me later.
Fine.
Later had already become expensive.
I smeared the preparation along the inside of the forearm.
Then fed a small amount of mana through the prepared channels.
Heat.
Pressure.
The muscle tightened.
Pain increased.
Grip improved slightly.
Enough.
I moved.
The gorge curved.
Water crossed the trail.
Then the limestone shelf appeared.
Marduk's warning.
Do not use it if it rains.
It had rained.
The shelf looked intact.
That meant nothing.
Water had eaten beneath it for years.
I stepped around the outer edge.
The stone shifted under my boot.
Not much.
Enough.
The Apex came closer.
I had one choice better than fighting it.
Keep moving.
The shelf narrowed ahead.
The creature could follow but only slowly.
If I maintained distance, perhaps—
A rock rolled beneath my left foot.
My body tilted.
I corrected with the injured arm.
Pain stole the breath from me.
One second.
That was all the Apex needed.
Its forelimb struck my pack.
Not flesh.
Pack.
The impact spun me sideways and threw me against the wall.
My head snapped back.
White flashed across my vision.
I fell.
The case strap held.
The Apex pulled away to strike again.
I tried to stand.
Left leg responded.
Right leg responded.
Good.
Shoulder did not appreciate life.
I looked at the shelf.
Cracks.
Water underneath.
The creature's front feet stood near the outer edge.
I did not need to increase its weight enormously.
Could not.
I needed the stone to fail slightly sooner than it already intended to.
Gravity.
Local.
Small area.
My reserve was still above half.
But my channels were irritated from the chase and Alchemia integration.
One controlled attempt.
Maybe.
I put my left palm against the ground.
Not because touching it was necessary.
Because the contact helped me organize the relationship.
Stone.
Creature.
Water-eroded underside.
Existing crack.
Weight.
I altered the load.
Not much.
The effect felt weak.
Five percent?
Perhaps less.
Nothing happened.
The Apex stepped forward.
The crack widened.
There.
It wasn't enough.
I had assumed the shelf was closer to failure.
Wrong again.
I released before wasting more mana.
The creature lunged.
I moved inside the line rather than away.
Terrible place to be.
Necessary.
Its shoulder passed close enough that I felt heat from the skin.
I struck the side of its head with the heel of my left hand.
Not to hurt it.
To change direction.
My body turned with the strike.
Hips.
Feet.
No arm-only nonsense.
The Apex's momentum carried it farther onto the shelf.
Stone cracked.
Still held.
I ran toward the inner wall.
The creature turned.
Its rear foot planted on the damaged edge.
Now.
Gravity again.
Same local point.
Short.
Harder than before.
Pain sparked along my ribs as mana moved.
The shelf dropped perhaps two inches.
That was enough.
The Apex lost balance.
One foreleg slipped over the edge.
Its body slammed sideways into the wall.
The creature scrabbled.
It was not falling cleanly.
Good.
I did not need it dead.
I needed distance.
I ran.
Behind me came stone breaking.
Then an animal roar.
Then another impact.
I did not look back.
Looking back is an emotional indulgence during escape.
My breath had become ragged.
I forced it slower.
Four steps inhale.
Four exhale.
Then three.
Then whatever my lungs permitted.
The Alchemia support in my forearm began turning from strength into stiffness.
Delayed cost.
Exactly as trained.
My fingers resisted opening.
I released the integration deliberately.
The hand weakened immediately.
Better weak than locked.
The gorge continued downward.
I checked the sky.
Late afternoon.
Too late.
I had planned to reach the overhang before dark.
Impossible now at normal pace.
I stopped beside the water long enough to drink.
Ten mouthfuls.
Not more.
Food.
Half ration.
Chew while walking.
Marduk would have been insufferably pleased.
The case against my chest radiated faint warmth.
I opened it just enough to check.
The Heart remained intact.
One side bruised from the fall.
Damn.
I inspected the stem.
Still attached.
No leaking.
No visible rupture.
I closed it.
Preservation mattered now.
The better route back crossed the upper ravine.
From here, I could reach it by climbing the eastern slope.
With two healthy arms, perhaps forty minutes.
With one useful hand—
No.
The lower creek continued south before curving toward the western forest.
Longer by hours.
But walkable.
I hated the arithmetic.
Short route risked losing the Heart during climb.
Long route guaranteed delay.
Again, the choice was clear.
Again, I chose the Heart.
I followed the creek.
At sunset, my shoulder began swelling.
The right sleeve tightened around it.
I loosened the fabric.
Movement became worse.
No dislocation.
Possibly deep contusion.
Perhaps ligament damage.
Nothing I could fix here.
The wrist was worse than I wanted to admit.
Rotation hurt.
Grip unreliable.
My left knee had stiffened from the earlier fall.
I recorded everything mentally.
Not because analysis made the pain smaller.
Because decisions required knowing which parts of me remained useful.
Darkness arrived before shelter.
I found a shallow recess beneath roots.
Bad location.
Damp.
Open from two directions.
But the next marked shelter lay another hour away.
I had enough energy to reach it.
Maybe.
The question was whether spending that energy improved survival.
I listened.
No pursuit.
No Apex.
No simians.
Insects returning.
Small animals moving.
The forest behaving normally.
I stayed.
Pack under my head.
Knife in left hand.
Heart case inside my coat.
Sleep came badly.
Every time I rolled toward the injured shoulder, pain woke me.
At some point after midnight, rain began.
Soft.
Steady.
I laughed once into the dark.
Of course.
By dawn, the creek had risen.
The route south became mud.
Progress slowed.
That was when I realized the real cost of yesterday's decision.
Not the shoulder.
Not the wrist.
Time.
I checked the sun through cloud.
Day three.
The agreement expired before noon.
Marduk had told me to turn back after three days.
I was already returning.
The technicality offered no comfort.
He would be waiting.
If he was still able to wait.
I moved faster.
Bad choice.
Ten minutes later my left foot slid down a bank.
I caught a branch with the injured arm.
Pain folded me against the slope.
I stayed there.
Breathing.
One.
Two.
Three.
No movement until the dizziness cleared.
Then I laughed quietly.
"Excellent."
The forest remained unimpressed.
I slowed again.
Control.
Even now.
Especially now.
By midday I reached the dry creek bed marked on Marduk's map.
That should have been good news.
It meant the cabin was less than a day's walk away.
Then I found the tracks.
Large.
Fresh.
Not the Apex.
Different stride.
Longer.
The prints entered the creek from the north and followed the same route I needed west.
I crouched.
My right hand useless.
Mana reserve below half.
Shoulder swollen.
Knee stiff.
Heart intact.
Fighting was not an option.
Chessmaster produced no miracle.
Only choices.
Leave the creek.
Lose the fastest route.
Stay and risk meeting whatever made the tracks.
Climb the ridge.
Impossible with the hand.
Three options.
All bad.
I listened.
Nothing.
Then the birds stopped.
Not gradually.
One stretch of forest ahead went quiet.
I rose.
Slowly.
The decision made itself.
Leave the creek.
Now.
I stepped into the undergrowth.
Something moved ahead.
Heavy.
Wet ground compressed under each step.
I did not need to see it.
I had enough information.
Predator.
Large.
Close.
And I was carrying the most mana-rich fruit for miles.
Wonderful.
I changed direction again.
Away from home.
That hurt more than the shoulder.
Every step east was another step Marduk would spend waiting.
But turning toward the cabin would carry the creature with me.
So I went deeper into the forest.
The Heart stayed against my chest.
The tracks behind me changed direction.
Following.
There it was.
The final bill.
I had won the hunt.
I had the Aurelian Heart.
And because I refused to abandon it, I was injured, late, moving away from home and being followed by something I no longer had the strength to fight.
Marduk had warned me that surviving with the prize was part of retrieving it.
At the time, I had considered that obvious.
Nothing is quite so educational as discovering that an obvious lesson was meant for you.
I adjusted the damaged strap across my shoulder.
Took one breath.
Then another.
And kept moving.
The next problem was no longer how to win.
It was how to disappear.