Book 11: Chapter 38: Escape

“Listen! Water sounds!” Lago raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop. He tilted his head, listened for a moment, then exclaimed with joy.

Everyone exchanged glances. The Rogue’s ears were like divine artifacts. If he hadn’t repeatedly denied having other bloodlines, they would’ve suspected he wasn’t human at all.

Back at the Ghostface Squid lake, those ears had saved the team once. Though Qin Lun rescued him afterward, it was Lago who first heard the squid moving underwater over a hundred meters away. Without him, the whole team would’ve faced a surprise attack from the sea monster.

A Ghostface Squid was no Primordial Tabanus. If those bucket-thick tentacles grabbed you, nobody could save you in time.

Hiring the Thornblood Trio now seemed valuable. Each member—Lago, Winnie, or Rick—had proven indispensable during this adventure.

Actually, the Thornblood Mercenary Corps had joined this quest over ten days ago, but no one wanted to mention the contract now.

Qin Lun had saved both Winnie and Lago. They were now life-and-death comrades, too awkward to discuss payment. Besides, they were already in Troll Claw Gorge. The missing persons mission was complete. Their main goal? Escape this cursed place.

Though only the Rogue heard the supposed water sounds, previous proof made his ears trustworthy. The mention of water instantly relaxed everyone’s expressions.

After traveling half the night, injuries slowed them to just twenty kilometers. Dawn approached, and the Troll village behind them would soon discover their prisoners missing.

Since Iristin and the others were sacrificial offerings, the Trolls wouldn’t let them escape. Pursuit would come at daybreak.

In Troll Claw, Trolls weren’t the only threat. Another problem plagued Qin Lun’s group: losing direction toward the northern exit at Winding River.

Surrounded by mountains, Troll Claw Gorge had rolling hills inside, far from flat.

Countless forked paths twisted through untouched wilderness. Trolls didn’t build roads. Endless low pines and bushes looked identical, making navigation impossible.

Even Mastashia—skilled in wilderness survival—needed clear moonlit nights to navigate by stars. Only that prevented them straying north.

Come daytime, they relied on guesswork except during rare moments when sunlight pierced the gorge’s haze.

Mastashia warned everyone: Find Winding River fast. Follow it north. Otherwise, she couldn’t guarantee escaping the Trolls.

Following Lago’s direction, as dawn broke fully, the team spotted a rushing stream.

“Perfect!” Mastashia’s joy spread fast. Several gravely injured members sighed with relief, collapsing. Though Apostle-healing items had helped, their bodies—tormented so long in the Troll village—remained desperately weak. Recovery needed more time.

“This stream likely feeds into Winding River. Follow it, and we’ll reach the main channel.” Mastashia observed the stream briefly, then shooed the men away. “Cut sturdy pine trees. We need a raft. The injured must clean their festering wounds in the water.”

“Are men not people? We want to wash too!” Lago grumbled under his breath.

“Sorry!” Rick sighed at his companion, facepalming. He dragged the flailing Rogue off like catching a chicken, whispering sternly, “Can’t you see those women are covered in wounds? How can they undress with you here? Even Sif knew to disappear!”

“Are you rookies on your first quest? This wood can’t build rafts!” Mastashia scowled when the men dragged back their first batch of timber.

The pine logs were too thick and freshly cut. Peeling bark left sticky resin everywhere—useless for rafts.

Raft wood shouldn’t be oversized; bowl-sized trunks worked best. Crucially, it must be dry. Fresh wood contained too much water. Under their weight, it would sink.

Even resin-coated pine needed years of drying—time they lacked.

Seeing the men incompetent, Mastashia entered the woods herself. She located suitable timber, directing them to fell twenty-plus half-dead trees.

Old, pest-eaten trunks riddled with holes provided enough buoyancy. True, fragile wood risked breaking in rapids.

But they needed just one trip through calmer currents. It would do.

Mastashia stripped bark from fresh pine to bind twenty withered trees into two rafts. The narrow stream couldn’t fit them all on one vessel.

As the rafts neared completion, the wounded finished tending injuries. Though nearly mummified, Iristin and Idria looked more alert than the night before.

Ironically, Old Butler Mason—near death yesterday—appeared healthiest now.

Unlike the women’s combat injuries, his wounds were sparse from adventures over a month ago. Sickness from recent ordeals healed slowly under dark magic’s influence. He seemed better off now.

“Two hours wasted. If the Trolls guessed our direction, they might be close.” Mastashia shielded her eyes, checking the sun’s position.

Tension returned. Following the Harper Master’s orders, they split into two groups boarding the rafts.

Mastashia strapped herself to a raft with leather cords. While she didn’t get seasick, she couldn’t swim. Only Qin Lun knew this secret previously. Now under everyone’s astonished gaze, she stood proudly as if declaring: “I can’t swim, and I’m proud of it!”

“SPLASH!” The rafts surged forward in the rushing stream—sinking briefly before rising through churning foam. Crude yet buoyant, they held everyone’s weight. Cheers erupted, and admiring eyes turned to the Highland Elf.

“Hah!” Mastashia couldn’t suppress a grin. As a Highland Elf, she avoided water normally. Raft-building knowledge came from fellow Harpers. To her relief, it worked perfectly.

With rafts carrying their weight, everyone gained rest while temporarily escaping pursuit. If Trolls lost their trail? Even better.

But using waterways posed another peril: Winding River was Troll Claw’s major water source. Troll camps dotted its banks. Failing to bypass them meant multiplying pursuers.

“The rafts move too fast! We can’t scout Troll settlements ahead.” Though safer for now, Mastashia frowned deeply. “Crested Eagles choke the cliff tops. My familiar can’t enter this gorge.”

“Scouting isn’t a problem.” Qin Lun exchanged a knowing glance with Rand. Smirking, Firecracker produced two small statues.

“Gargoyle Statues… Impressive preparation!” The Highland Elf stared in surprise. “These rare items require master alchemists!”

“Want one?” Qin Lun smiled, pulling a Gargoyle Statue from Storage Space for Mastashia. He’d bought five at the Three-Tailed Kite Club. Plenty remained for this quest.

“A sudden gift? Either sneaky or ill-intentioned!” Mastashia shot the silver-haired Elf a look. Still, she took the statue, rejecting neither gift nor its implied purpose. As a Harpers Master, she knew Qin Lun thanked her ongoing aid. Since she’d continue following the Seopia Elf Prince anyway… Why refuse free benefits?

As Rand activated the statues, dark magic shimmered across their surface. Tossing them upward, the palm-sized stones expanded instantly. Wings beat powerfully, carrying them downriver as scouts.

Suddenly, Qin Lun felt icy eyes behind him. Turning, he met Iristin’s intense stare.

“Alright, have one.” Qin Lun sighed in resignation, producing another Gargoyle Statue his Storage Space gave the Elven Druid.

“Hehe!” Iristin beamed instantly.

But she promptly shoved the statue to Idria beside her. Able to transform into an eagle, she didn’t need it—just felt compelled by some feminine instinct.

Idria snatched the Gargoyle without ceremony, smirking challengingly at Qin Lun.

“Haha… Forty to fifty thousand Shattered Crystals each, remember?” Rand and Hill teased him over Team Channel. “You’ll cover those costs!”

Qin Lun smiled bitterly, silently flipping them off in his mind.