Free Destroyer Rising by Eric Asher Page A

into the air. The stalks grew
together, twisting as they bound to one another until the thinnest
growth was as thick as a tree. The surface hardened into a
bark-like substance.
    “Son of a bitch,” I snarled, glancing behind me at
the distant forest. “They’re like saplings.”
    The forest had spread at least a mile to the south.
To the north, only a tiny walkway remained, separating the forest
from the fiery ocean below and creating a barrier between Bubbles
and me. I groaned and made my way toward the narrow path.
    I stood at the precipice. I could either inch along
the chasm that would surely be the death of me if I fell, or I
could put a hand on the trees that liked to drink my blood. The
ridged back of some great beast lingered on the surface below
before diving back into the sea of flames.
    I shivered and looked back to the forest. “Gloves.
Next time I’m packing gloves.”
    A quarter mile down the narrow path, Bubbles waited.
She sniffed at the trees and then backed away. I knew how she felt.
I kept my eyes on Bubbles and walked forward at a slightly faster
pace than I thought sane.
    Twice I had to reach out and balance myself on a
tree. I didn’t feel any cuts or burns or surprising pulls on my
aura. Maybe the forest wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was just the wheat.
Maybe—
    The branch came out of nowhere.
    I flailed my arms like a windmill, like I was stuck
in some ridiculous black and white cartoon world. Panic could make
you do stupid and useless things. The thought of landing in that
rolling sea of fire cut through the thunder of my heartbeat. I
grabbed onto the branch, realizing that was at least a safer gamble
than cliff diving into an inferno.
    The branch thickened and jerked into the air, pulling
me toward the forest. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what might
be waiting between those black trunks and crimson leaves, but I
didn’t hold on long enough to find out.
    I released the tree and the momentum slammed me into
one of the outside trunks. I scrambled up into a run, Bubbles
barking at me like some furry, flaming personal trainer. Another
branch moved, and it threatened to sweep me off the cliff. A quick
hop brought me past it before the next tried to flatten me with a
downward strike. I guessed the damn trees weren’t picky about
getting their blood from a pancake on the ground.
    The focus came into my hand. I summoned a blazing
golden soulsword and swung it in one awkward movement. The voices
crashed through my head for the first time since I’d entered the
Burning Lands. A million souls that, until then, I had forgotten
were even there. Had they been quiet? Or had I grown accustomed to
them? I didn’t know, but the sound grew into an overwhelming
cacophony until I let the soulsword fade.
    Only silence remained, and the nearby huff of a cu
sith.
    I took the few last steps to meet up with Bubbles as
something rumbled and crashed behind me. I turned to watch bloodied
branches collapse along a third of the trail, sheared off at a
forty-five degree angle that had taken the tops of the trees with
them.
    It didn’t make any sense. The soulsword wasn’t long
enough to strike like that, but the gash in the tree line was a
good twenty-five feet deep, and may have gone further if not for
clearing the canopy. I looked down at the hilt that ended in two
quatrefoils and frowned before tucking it back into my belt.
    In the distance, a rocky mountain vista waited, full
of jagged stones and shadows that could hide anything. A few souls
ran through the fields, dodging the occasional troll. The giants
kept to themselves, which made me question what had motivated them
in Gettysburg.
    Ahead, a cluster of golden light waited near a dark
opening in a cliffside. I squinted, trying to make out more detail,
but I could see little more than the humanoid shape of the
lights.
    My arm burned, and I glanced down to find it
bleeding. It wasn’t the cuts that burned so badly—they were
suspiciously numb—it was the