Poisonwell
Page 106
From the wilderness where they had come, the howl of the Weir picked up again, causing repeat cries from several sides. They were getting closer and Annon felt the worry gnawing at him. He was tired beyond imagining, aching for rest and sleep, but there was no stopping now, nothing but the fear of being hunted, realizing that if night fell again before they had found the tree, it would be too late. He had the numbing premonition that they wouldn’t live to see the dawn if that happened.
“There wasn’t a rider,” Prince Aran said. “What do you make of it?”
“I have no idea,” Tyrus replied. “Shirikant must be pulling in all of his defenses.” He gazed through the trees at the dwindling sunlight. The shadows grew darker with each passing moment. “Hurry. This way.” He pointed.
Annon swallowed hard and they traversed the twisting woods. Hettie stayed close to him, her breath ragged from the long and tortuous walk. Her face was ashen with fatigue, but she managed a quick smile to him and patted his shoulder.
The woods broke away not far ahead, and Tyrus raised his hand. He picked out the widest oak, the most imposing barrier, and directed them all to cluster behind it.
“Hettie, what do you make of the ground?” Tyrus asked her.
She came forward, crouching low, and studied the land in front of them. The earth was churned and trees had been pulled up by their roots and dragged away. It was haphazard, disorderly, but it created a wide space between them and the base of the massive promontory jutting ahead. Annon craned his neck, seeing the ribs of craggy stone rising like arches into the sky. At the top, he saw the ruined battlement walls of some fallen citadel. The sky to the north was roiling with clouds and he saw the vivid flash of lightning coming from the distance. A rumble of thunder followed it shortly.
“We made it this far,” Annon said, gazing up at the fallen fortress. Part of him didn’t believe it was possible. Would he snap awake and realize it was only a vision? The bark of the oak was rough against his palm and he stroked it, wondering if the tree had been there when the foundation stones of the ruins had first been laid.
Tyrus breathed heavily. He stared at the gap between the woods and the ruins, a gap that would open them to the view of anyone on top of the cleft. “We will be seen advancing,” he muttered darkly. “And who knows what pits and traps are waiting there. There is a reason the trees have been broken down, though I cannot figure what it is.” He wiped his eyes, shaking his head with weariness. He passed over to another tree, examining the view from another angle. “What do you make out, Hettie?”
She stayed within the protective brush of the woods. “The ground has been churned recently. Possibly today. I see hoofprints, but I need to get closer to see anything.” She craned her neck, staring up at the promontory. “Soldiers patrol the top.”
Tyrus sighed. “He’ll keep beasts below to hunt us and intelligent men above to shoot arrows or catapults from above. I think he razed the trees to help them see us coming. We have to go around then.” He turned to Annon. “Remind me what the Dryad told you. Where is the Mother Tree?”
“It’s not on the promontory, but somewhere here around it. Do you think Shirikant razed her tree?”
“He may want us to believe so. I think if he were going to raze it, he would have long ago. There is no benefit to delay. What about the bridge to Mirrowen? Remind me of that.”
Annon cleared his throat. “She said it was in the center of the promontory, in the midst of the ruins.”
“Heavily guarded,” Tyrus observed. “The Mother Tree gives us the word, I believe. The word needed to pass the worlds. Did you not say that?”
“Yes, Tyrus.”
“Forgive my memory. I’m dreadfully tired. We can’t stay here or the Weir will catch us.” He stroked his chin, pondering deeply. “We don’t have the men or the means to fight off a garrison. But we can confuse them. We don’t know where Shirikant is, but I would guess he is closer to the tree. If only we knew.” He rubbed his forehead briskly. “Time for another deception. We should divide our numbers. Here is my plan, but we don’t have long to argue it.” The keening of the Weir sounded much closer. “Time eludes us. Hettie will use her charm and disguise herself as Phae. She will come with me into the clearing. We will draw their attention to us, providing time for you to slip through the woods. I’ll announce we’re surrendering and see if I can draw some of them off the ridge to arrest us. If they come, we’ll use our fireblood to make smoke and confusion. When I start, you do the same, start setting fire to the woods around us, just enough to cause some smoke and add to the confusion. If they charge at Hettie and me, we’ll use the Tay al-Ard to come back to this spot and then circumnavigate the promontory the opposite direction as you . . . or track you if that seems more appropriate. Whichever of us finds the tree first, we’ll wait for the others there and then attack the promontory together after Phae has gotten the name.” He looked quickly at each of their faces. “Any suggestions or improvements? Speak them quickly.”
“There wasn’t a rider,” Prince Aran said. “What do you make of it?”
“I have no idea,” Tyrus replied. “Shirikant must be pulling in all of his defenses.” He gazed through the trees at the dwindling sunlight. The shadows grew darker with each passing moment. “Hurry. This way.” He pointed.
Annon swallowed hard and they traversed the twisting woods. Hettie stayed close to him, her breath ragged from the long and tortuous walk. Her face was ashen with fatigue, but she managed a quick smile to him and patted his shoulder.
The woods broke away not far ahead, and Tyrus raised his hand. He picked out the widest oak, the most imposing barrier, and directed them all to cluster behind it.
“Hettie, what do you make of the ground?” Tyrus asked her.
She came forward, crouching low, and studied the land in front of them. The earth was churned and trees had been pulled up by their roots and dragged away. It was haphazard, disorderly, but it created a wide space between them and the base of the massive promontory jutting ahead. Annon craned his neck, seeing the ribs of craggy stone rising like arches into the sky. At the top, he saw the ruined battlement walls of some fallen citadel. The sky to the north was roiling with clouds and he saw the vivid flash of lightning coming from the distance. A rumble of thunder followed it shortly.
“We made it this far,” Annon said, gazing up at the fallen fortress. Part of him didn’t believe it was possible. Would he snap awake and realize it was only a vision? The bark of the oak was rough against his palm and he stroked it, wondering if the tree had been there when the foundation stones of the ruins had first been laid.
Tyrus breathed heavily. He stared at the gap between the woods and the ruins, a gap that would open them to the view of anyone on top of the cleft. “We will be seen advancing,” he muttered darkly. “And who knows what pits and traps are waiting there. There is a reason the trees have been broken down, though I cannot figure what it is.” He wiped his eyes, shaking his head with weariness. He passed over to another tree, examining the view from another angle. “What do you make out, Hettie?”
She stayed within the protective brush of the woods. “The ground has been churned recently. Possibly today. I see hoofprints, but I need to get closer to see anything.” She craned her neck, staring up at the promontory. “Soldiers patrol the top.”
Tyrus sighed. “He’ll keep beasts below to hunt us and intelligent men above to shoot arrows or catapults from above. I think he razed the trees to help them see us coming. We have to go around then.” He turned to Annon. “Remind me what the Dryad told you. Where is the Mother Tree?”
“It’s not on the promontory, but somewhere here around it. Do you think Shirikant razed her tree?”
“He may want us to believe so. I think if he were going to raze it, he would have long ago. There is no benefit to delay. What about the bridge to Mirrowen? Remind me of that.”
Annon cleared his throat. “She said it was in the center of the promontory, in the midst of the ruins.”
“Heavily guarded,” Tyrus observed. “The Mother Tree gives us the word, I believe. The word needed to pass the worlds. Did you not say that?”
“Yes, Tyrus.”
“Forgive my memory. I’m dreadfully tired. We can’t stay here or the Weir will catch us.” He stroked his chin, pondering deeply. “We don’t have the men or the means to fight off a garrison. But we can confuse them. We don’t know where Shirikant is, but I would guess he is closer to the tree. If only we knew.” He rubbed his forehead briskly. “Time for another deception. We should divide our numbers. Here is my plan, but we don’t have long to argue it.” The keening of the Weir sounded much closer. “Time eludes us. Hettie will use her charm and disguise herself as Phae. She will come with me into the clearing. We will draw their attention to us, providing time for you to slip through the woods. I’ll announce we’re surrendering and see if I can draw some of them off the ridge to arrest us. If they come, we’ll use our fireblood to make smoke and confusion. When I start, you do the same, start setting fire to the woods around us, just enough to cause some smoke and add to the confusion. If they charge at Hettie and me, we’ll use the Tay al-Ard to come back to this spot and then circumnavigate the promontory the opposite direction as you . . . or track you if that seems more appropriate. Whichever of us finds the tree first, we’ll wait for the others there and then attack the promontory together after Phae has gotten the name.” He looked quickly at each of their faces. “Any suggestions or improvements? Speak them quickly.”
