Poisonwell
Page 16
Her father’s curt command to gather had been promptly obeyed and none were left behind. None would have wanted to be stranded amidst a horde of ravaging tribesmen. She did not know where the Tay al-Ard had taken them until she saw a stunted, sickly tree and recalled having seen it earlier that day. Why she had remembered its lopsided shape from before didn’t matter. She realized it was probably for that very reason it was chosen.
“And why did you spirit us away just then?” Kiranrao demanded, rounding on Tyrus. “We could have handled twice that number and left them all for dead.”
Phae did not like his tone and how he always seemed to challenge her father. Instead of being angry, her father handled Kiranrao delicately.
“You may not have seen it,” he answered softly. “They were the ones already starting to flee. Boeotians are quite superstitious. I have other tricks I could have performed that would have frightened them off at the beginning. They respect strength and now they have seen a measure of ours. I want their survivors to warn the Empress we are in her lands. She will draw forces to protect herself, which will leave fewer to face us. I did not bring us to these lands to slaughter Boeotians.”
Kiranrao frowned, but he did not argue.
“What do you know of the Empress?” Baylen asked.
“Precious little,” Tyrus replied. “She seeks no treaties, accepts no ambassadors, and she and her predecessors have repeatedly launched attacks on Kenatos. The Vaettir keep her at bay and occasionally the other kingdoms send forces to repel her attacks. They have no written language, no books, no history. Only the Druidecht are allowed into her realm unmolested.”
“Why is she called the Empress?” Kiranrao asked.
“No one knows.” He turned to Annon. “Seek spirits to watch over us as we sleep. There is no way they can track where we went. Also see if you can understand from the spirits how the Boeotians feed themselves. These lands have been rather inhospitable so far, and we’ll need food to enter the Scourgelands. I hope to forage here, but we may not be able to without finding a settlement or one of their wandering camps. If you can, see if one of the spirits will guide us to one.”
He turned next to Hettie. “Study the tracks that have come since we last crossed this path. See what you learn from them.”
“Very well,” Hettie answered.
“The rest of you—sleep while you can. Shion, you keep watch.”
Phae saw the wisdom in the choice since the man did not ever sleep. Shion nodded, gave Phae a look that was enigmatic, and then the rest skulked to make their beds for the night, devoid of a fire that might reveal them. Phae was exhausted from the long march that day and promptly fell asleep.
They traveled three more days inside the Boeotians’ country without meeting a single soul. Annon had learned from the spirits of the region where food could be foraged, and it was edible but not tasty, mostly consisting of roots and weeds. For meat, there were some hardy lizards that blended so well into the dirt and rocks that it took a keen eye to find them. Water was also scarce, and so when they found small streams or hidden pools, they would drink deeply and then fill their water skins. As they crossed farther north, the land became rockier.
The hard days of walking left blisters on Phae’s heels, and the dust blowing in the air forced them all to wear makeshift scarves to breathe. The dunes were formidable and bleak, making Phae homesick for the lush valleys of Stonehollow. There were no Dryads in these lands, she could tell. Boeotia was a desolate place.
On the third day traveling north, the terrain changed. Instead of dusty dunes, the bones of huge rocks were exposed, changing the landscape dramatically. Jagged steps and bluffs, full of bumps and pockmarked rocks, cluttered the land in every direction. It was some misshapen mass, with strange gullies and cliffs. They entered warily, with Annon guiding them through the communion of spirit creatures. With the change of terrain came the opportunity for ambush, and so Tyrus kept them closer together.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, Annon stopped at the top of a rock ledge and pointed into a valley beyond. “There!” he said, waving the others to join him.
Phae was tired and her muscles ached. Her hair was caked with dust and she felt in desperate need of a stream to wade in. A stream had once carved the desolate canyons, but what she found was even more than she could have imagined.
“Well,” Baylen said, pursing his lips. “That’s a sight to be seen.”
The others crested the small rise and Phae got a look at it and stared in surprise. The canyon below had been carved into a little city.
“And why did you spirit us away just then?” Kiranrao demanded, rounding on Tyrus. “We could have handled twice that number and left them all for dead.”
Phae did not like his tone and how he always seemed to challenge her father. Instead of being angry, her father handled Kiranrao delicately.
“You may not have seen it,” he answered softly. “They were the ones already starting to flee. Boeotians are quite superstitious. I have other tricks I could have performed that would have frightened them off at the beginning. They respect strength and now they have seen a measure of ours. I want their survivors to warn the Empress we are in her lands. She will draw forces to protect herself, which will leave fewer to face us. I did not bring us to these lands to slaughter Boeotians.”
Kiranrao frowned, but he did not argue.
“What do you know of the Empress?” Baylen asked.
“Precious little,” Tyrus replied. “She seeks no treaties, accepts no ambassadors, and she and her predecessors have repeatedly launched attacks on Kenatos. The Vaettir keep her at bay and occasionally the other kingdoms send forces to repel her attacks. They have no written language, no books, no history. Only the Druidecht are allowed into her realm unmolested.”
“Why is she called the Empress?” Kiranrao asked.
“No one knows.” He turned to Annon. “Seek spirits to watch over us as we sleep. There is no way they can track where we went. Also see if you can understand from the spirits how the Boeotians feed themselves. These lands have been rather inhospitable so far, and we’ll need food to enter the Scourgelands. I hope to forage here, but we may not be able to without finding a settlement or one of their wandering camps. If you can, see if one of the spirits will guide us to one.”
He turned next to Hettie. “Study the tracks that have come since we last crossed this path. See what you learn from them.”
“Very well,” Hettie answered.
“The rest of you—sleep while you can. Shion, you keep watch.”
Phae saw the wisdom in the choice since the man did not ever sleep. Shion nodded, gave Phae a look that was enigmatic, and then the rest skulked to make their beds for the night, devoid of a fire that might reveal them. Phae was exhausted from the long march that day and promptly fell asleep.
They traveled three more days inside the Boeotians’ country without meeting a single soul. Annon had learned from the spirits of the region where food could be foraged, and it was edible but not tasty, mostly consisting of roots and weeds. For meat, there were some hardy lizards that blended so well into the dirt and rocks that it took a keen eye to find them. Water was also scarce, and so when they found small streams or hidden pools, they would drink deeply and then fill their water skins. As they crossed farther north, the land became rockier.
The hard days of walking left blisters on Phae’s heels, and the dust blowing in the air forced them all to wear makeshift scarves to breathe. The dunes were formidable and bleak, making Phae homesick for the lush valleys of Stonehollow. There were no Dryads in these lands, she could tell. Boeotia was a desolate place.
On the third day traveling north, the terrain changed. Instead of dusty dunes, the bones of huge rocks were exposed, changing the landscape dramatically. Jagged steps and bluffs, full of bumps and pockmarked rocks, cluttered the land in every direction. It was some misshapen mass, with strange gullies and cliffs. They entered warily, with Annon guiding them through the communion of spirit creatures. With the change of terrain came the opportunity for ambush, and so Tyrus kept them closer together.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, Annon stopped at the top of a rock ledge and pointed into a valley beyond. “There!” he said, waving the others to join him.
Phae was tired and her muscles ached. Her hair was caked with dust and she felt in desperate need of a stream to wade in. A stream had once carved the desolate canyons, but what she found was even more than she could have imagined.
“Well,” Baylen said, pursing his lips. “That’s a sight to be seen.”
The others crested the small rise and Phae got a look at it and stared in surprise. The canyon below had been carved into a little city.
