“Silence!” Kerrick raised his arm.

The vines holding Jack gagged him, muffling his cries of      distress.

“Anyone else care to correct me?” Kerrick asked.

The rest remained quiet.

“Good. You must leave my forest and      never return. Or...” Kerrick urged the vines to tighten around the captives,      making it hard for them to breathe. When he was certain they’d gotten the point,      he eased the pressure. “Understand?”

They nodded. Even Jack.

“Good. Now be gone!” He swept his arm dramatically—the monkeys      would be giggling by now.

The vines dragged the smugglers along the forest floor. Kerrick      and Hux followed. When they reached the main path, Kerrick had the vines release      the smugglers.

They staggered to their feet and, without a backward glance,      bolted down the path. Kerrick wondered if they’d warn their cohorts away, or if      he’d have to deal with more intruders before Avry and the others arrived. He      resigned himself to the fact that weed boy might be needed again.

He waited until the dust of the smugglers’ passage had settled,      then allowed the vines to drop from him and Hux. The horse snorted as if      commenting about the strange antics of humans. Kerrick didn’t disagree with      him.

They returned to the campsite. Kerrick dismounted, landing on      weak legs. While his connection to the living green remained a part of him, he      struggled to manipulate the foliage. Unlike in early autumn, he now needed to      draw power in order to use the forest. And each day it was a little bit      harder.

Kerrick stretched out on his bedroll. Exhaustion pressed on      him. Using his magic shouldn’t be this draining. It had depleted his energy      before he sickened, but now it required double the effort. Why? He’d no idea.      Too tired to puzzle out the logic, Kerrick rolled onto his side and fell      asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Kerrick kept his vigil and stayed      alert for potential problems while continuing to train Huxley. Each day he      stayed busy to avoid sinking into dire speculation over why Avry hadn’t arrived      yet.

By the eighth day, Kerrick had to admit something had gone      wrong at the monastery. He’d promised to rescue Avry if she’d gotten caught. Now      all he needed to figure out was how.

The main problem was his inability to leave the forest for      long. But what if he took the forest with him? How? Would the vines stretch into      the aqueducts? Probably, but not all the way into the city. What if he carried      bushes with him? He’d need his hands. And Hux wouldn’t fit in the tunnel.

Remembering the wagon, Kerrick fetched it. He wove vines      together and made small sheets. Then he dug up two bushes and, careful to pack      the dirt around their roots, he wrapped the root ball in the sheet and tied it      tight.

With the bushes in the wagon, Kerrick entered the aqueduct. He      pulled the wagon behind him with one hand and held a torch with his other.      Passing the end of the greenery, Kerrick felt the familiar pressure return.      Damn. Kerrick used his magic to continue on. Soon after, he struggled to move      forward until he reached the end of his invisible tether. The light from his      torch illuminated numbers and letters that had been painted on the walls. An      intersection was just a few feet away.

Bitterness pulsed as he debated his next move. If he depleted      his strength now, he’d be useless. Kerrick needed a better idea. Retreating to      the forest and Hux, he rested and mulled over the problem.

By the time he’d regained his energy, the sun had set. Not that      it mattered in the dark tunnels, but he also hadn’t formulated a plan.

Kerrick huddled next to a small fire. Maybe he’d been rash to      scare the smugglers off. He could have paid them to go into the city... And      what? Find Flea and Ives? They were supposed to report back to him if something      went wrong inside the monastery. Their absence meant they, too, encountered      trouble. The smugglers wouldn’t break into the monastery for all the gold in his      pocket; everyone in Ozero Realm was terrified of the priests.

Even though he had the entire forest at his command, he      couldn’t do a damn thing to save Avry. Not without help. And who would help him?      Not Ryne. Noak? If the tribesmen did travel south with his warriors to aid Ryne,      perhaps Kerrick could intercept them. But when should Kerrick abandon his vigil?      Tomorrow morning? No. The sooner the better.