Poisonwell
Page 132
She shook her head no, but her expression was pained.
A robin flew into the glade, landing on the branch near the Dryad’s hand. A trilling song came from it, a beautiful music.
“Alas,” she said sorrowfully.
“What is it?” Shion asked, concerned.
“Your friends are tracking you in the woods. They’ve breached the lair of the Fear Liath.”
“I don’t understand,” Shion said. “The what?”
“The Fear Liath. Remember that dark feeling you had when you passed by its lair? You had to master your fear in order to come farther. It almost made you turn back, but you were persistent. You were blindfolded and so you did not breach the magic of the lair. You were frightened, but you could not imprint the memory on your mind because you could not see its lair with your eyes. They defend the boundaries set by my father.”
“They don’t know about the boundaries,” Shion said, his voice growing panicked. “What will happen to them?”
“When it is dark, the Fear Liath will hunt and kill them. Unless they make it out of the woods before nightfall.” She looked up at the sky. “The day is waning already.”
“I must warn them,” Shion said, stuffing the blindfold into his belt.
You did warn them the Seneschal thought, his voice whispering through the aether. Shion stiffened, his eyes widening, hearing it.
“The beast cannot hunt you in Mirrowen,” the Dryad said. “The gate is open to you now. Go.”
The look on Shion’s face tortured Phae. He was racked with indecision. She realized that his failure at the tree years before, losing his mentor, was clouding his thinking. She understood herself how dangerous a Fear Liath was, how vicious they could attack and how impossible they were to defeat.
“This isn’t fair,” Shion protested. “You are saying they will die because of their ignorance? When I have a chance to warn them and stop them, but I should not? A Druidecht protects life. Does the Fear Liath have a weakness?”
The Dryad’s expression turned to misery. “I cannot speak it. I am forbidden to.”
“Why can’t you tell me? What is the purpose of these whispers if they bid us come to our death?”
“No, Isic! It’s not like that. You followed the whispers. They brought you here. Those friends are intruders. They did not pass the test, which you did. It is justice that they perish. Mortals suffer when laws are broken. If you slip from a stone while climbing a mountain, you will surely fall.”
“I cannot go on and let them be destroyed,” Shion said, wringing his hands. “I must warn them. Will my Druidecht magic protect me from the Fear Liath?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Please, Dryad! I beg you to tell me!”
“I cannot. Knowledge must be earned. It is your choice, Isic, but please . . .”
He looked at her, frowning with unhappiness. “I will come back. I will go through the portal to Mirrowen. The Seneschal rewards determination. I will see this through. We will meet again. I promise you.”
He turned and stalked from the woods, marching hard.
Phae stared after him in horror, her stomach twisting with dread and despair. Understanding flooded her, followed by emotional agony. “No,” she whimpered, feeling tears sting her eyes savagely. “Is this where . . . is this when he gets his scars?”
The Seneschal put his arm around her comfortingly. He rested his chin on the top of her head, stroking her hair softly. “Pain is a teacher.”
“When we walk in the forest we see only a fraction of what sees us.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XL
Phae rubbed her hands together, bitterly anxious, watching as Shion dragged himself from the woods of the Scourgelands and then followed the edge until it intersected with a dusty trail that skirted the forest. Weeds and grass grew thickly, but there were ruts from wagon wheels that carved a path through the green. Reaching the road, Shion finally collapsed, having lost so much blood he could no longer master his strength. His face had been slashed by claws and was blackened by the dust mixed with blood. The claw wounds had shredded his front as well. Somehow, through iron determination, he had managed to force himself onward, despite the pain and suffering. But he was leagues away from the nearest settlement.
And he was dying.
“He’s too far,” Phae whimpered, seeing his body crumpled on the road. “Is there anyone who can help him?”
“Watch and wait,” the Seneschal said. They were hidden within the rim of the woods. Flies began buzzing around Shion’s body, drawn to the sickly sweet aroma of death. She cringed, wanting to rush to him, to tend his wounds herself.
A robin flew into the glade, landing on the branch near the Dryad’s hand. A trilling song came from it, a beautiful music.
“Alas,” she said sorrowfully.
“What is it?” Shion asked, concerned.
“Your friends are tracking you in the woods. They’ve breached the lair of the Fear Liath.”
“I don’t understand,” Shion said. “The what?”
“The Fear Liath. Remember that dark feeling you had when you passed by its lair? You had to master your fear in order to come farther. It almost made you turn back, but you were persistent. You were blindfolded and so you did not breach the magic of the lair. You were frightened, but you could not imprint the memory on your mind because you could not see its lair with your eyes. They defend the boundaries set by my father.”
“They don’t know about the boundaries,” Shion said, his voice growing panicked. “What will happen to them?”
“When it is dark, the Fear Liath will hunt and kill them. Unless they make it out of the woods before nightfall.” She looked up at the sky. “The day is waning already.”
“I must warn them,” Shion said, stuffing the blindfold into his belt.
You did warn them the Seneschal thought, his voice whispering through the aether. Shion stiffened, his eyes widening, hearing it.
“The beast cannot hunt you in Mirrowen,” the Dryad said. “The gate is open to you now. Go.”
The look on Shion’s face tortured Phae. He was racked with indecision. She realized that his failure at the tree years before, losing his mentor, was clouding his thinking. She understood herself how dangerous a Fear Liath was, how vicious they could attack and how impossible they were to defeat.
“This isn’t fair,” Shion protested. “You are saying they will die because of their ignorance? When I have a chance to warn them and stop them, but I should not? A Druidecht protects life. Does the Fear Liath have a weakness?”
The Dryad’s expression turned to misery. “I cannot speak it. I am forbidden to.”
“Why can’t you tell me? What is the purpose of these whispers if they bid us come to our death?”
“No, Isic! It’s not like that. You followed the whispers. They brought you here. Those friends are intruders. They did not pass the test, which you did. It is justice that they perish. Mortals suffer when laws are broken. If you slip from a stone while climbing a mountain, you will surely fall.”
“I cannot go on and let them be destroyed,” Shion said, wringing his hands. “I must warn them. Will my Druidecht magic protect me from the Fear Liath?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Please, Dryad! I beg you to tell me!”
“I cannot. Knowledge must be earned. It is your choice, Isic, but please . . .”
He looked at her, frowning with unhappiness. “I will come back. I will go through the portal to Mirrowen. The Seneschal rewards determination. I will see this through. We will meet again. I promise you.”
He turned and stalked from the woods, marching hard.
Phae stared after him in horror, her stomach twisting with dread and despair. Understanding flooded her, followed by emotional agony. “No,” she whimpered, feeling tears sting her eyes savagely. “Is this where . . . is this when he gets his scars?”
The Seneschal put his arm around her comfortingly. He rested his chin on the top of her head, stroking her hair softly. “Pain is a teacher.”
“When we walk in the forest we see only a fraction of what sees us.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XL
Phae rubbed her hands together, bitterly anxious, watching as Shion dragged himself from the woods of the Scourgelands and then followed the edge until it intersected with a dusty trail that skirted the forest. Weeds and grass grew thickly, but there were ruts from wagon wheels that carved a path through the green. Reaching the road, Shion finally collapsed, having lost so much blood he could no longer master his strength. His face had been slashed by claws and was blackened by the dust mixed with blood. The claw wounds had shredded his front as well. Somehow, through iron determination, he had managed to force himself onward, despite the pain and suffering. But he was leagues away from the nearest settlement.
And he was dying.
“He’s too far,” Phae whimpered, seeing his body crumpled on the road. “Is there anyone who can help him?”
“Watch and wait,” the Seneschal said. They were hidden within the rim of the woods. Flies began buzzing around Shion’s body, drawn to the sickly sweet aroma of death. She cringed, wanting to rush to him, to tend his wounds herself.
