Poisonwell
Page 57
“I’ll be all right,” he whispered. He swallowed and took a deep breath. He turned to face the others.
“We’re back where we began?” Kiranrao said darkly. “I thought if you didn’t look at the trees, you would find our way through?”
Tyrus held up his hand in a placating gesture. “I did. Bear in mind that these woods constantly shift and change. It is easy to lose your bearings without the stars or sun to guide. There is no horizon to fix on. I think we have veered eastward and circled back. This isn’t the same place where we started, but we’ve run into the perimeter again. That means we need to head back away and try to do better at maintaining our bearings.”
Kiranrao shook his head with contempt.
Phae saw the looks in the others as well. Their confidence in Tyrus was starting to weaken. It was easy to second-guess someone else’s decision without carrying the brunt of the trouble oneself.
She put on a brave face, looking at the others and trying to smile confidently. But perhaps they, too, were seeing the fear in his eyes.
It wasn’t the stone wall that had unmanned Tyrus. He had not expected to see it so soon, but he did not believe in his own infallibility so much to think that they wouldn’t get turned around occasionally. As he had walked firmly toward the wall of stones, something caught his peripheral vision. Movement in the trees to the left. He glanced toward it, seeing nothing, and when he looked back he spied her.
Merinda Druidecht.
She was smiling at him, beckoning him to follow her up into the maze of stones blocking their path. She was not spattered in blood with a crooked arm. She looked as she had in the prime of her strength, her reddish-brown hair and expression so reminiscent of Hettie that his heart seized with unquenched pain. There was something . . . otherworldly about her. As he stood stock-still and stared at her, it was immediately clear that no one else could see her.
The fireblood.
Had he used too much of it during the attack of the Shade of Aunwynn and its hounds? Had he crossed the boundary of proper use and entered the boundary of madness? How many times had he suffered the hallucinations of his sister when she went mad? Or Merinda herself when she was afflicted?
No. Not yet. It’s too soon.
He felt his daughter’s grip on his arm, pulling him momentarily back from the brink of utter despair. But he realized with growing sickness that it was already too late.
The madness and hallucinations would only get worse.
“The night has already fallen and the city bells of Kenatos are still ringing. There is word that an army of Boeotians has emerged from the hinterlands northward and is hastening to invade our shores. It is the biggest army they have mustered against us in all the recorded years since the founding of this city. What purpose could they have to throw away their lives against our defenses? What incomprehensible motive drives them? There are even rumors, which I can scarcely give credit to, that the Empress herself leads this force. The gates are shut and the fleet is drawing in to the quays. We are quite safe.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XVII
There was an unsettled look on Tyrus’s face that caused worry to fester inside Annon. Dusk settled over the massive depths of the Scourgelands, thickening the shadows and making every startling sound into a threat. He watched Tyrus from the corner of his eye, feeling his own sense of dread increase. The Weir had found their trail and begun the hunt.
“Why didn’t you use the Tay al-Ard when we faced the hounds?” Kiranrao demanded suddenly, his voice full of enmity.
“I use it as a last resort, Kiranrao. Don’t question my judgment.”
“Your judgment has brought us around in circles so far,” the Romani said coldly.
“If you know a better trail, by all means declare it. Otherwise be silent. They are getting closer.”
Tyrus was normally more patient with Kiranrao. There was a marked change in his tone to what he had used before. With night drawing closer, their troubles would only increase against beings that could see in the dark—or did not require eyes at all.
Do you hear them yet? Annon asked Nizeera in his mind.
Yes.
Annon felt a sensation of coldness enter his limbs. He tried to check his fear, but it was not possible. Tyrus’s story from his last foray into the Scourgelands conjured thoughts that were horrible to ponder.
How far away?
They are coming behind us on three sides, trying to converge their attack. They are fierce hunters, Druidecht. Stand ready.
He swallowed, glancing over at Tyrus and trying to meet his eye, but their leader was steadfastly focusing on the way ahead, dodging over crooked tree limbs and crossing the rugged terrain. The mesh of branches overhead would blot out the moon.
“We’re back where we began?” Kiranrao said darkly. “I thought if you didn’t look at the trees, you would find our way through?”
Tyrus held up his hand in a placating gesture. “I did. Bear in mind that these woods constantly shift and change. It is easy to lose your bearings without the stars or sun to guide. There is no horizon to fix on. I think we have veered eastward and circled back. This isn’t the same place where we started, but we’ve run into the perimeter again. That means we need to head back away and try to do better at maintaining our bearings.”
Kiranrao shook his head with contempt.
Phae saw the looks in the others as well. Their confidence in Tyrus was starting to weaken. It was easy to second-guess someone else’s decision without carrying the brunt of the trouble oneself.
She put on a brave face, looking at the others and trying to smile confidently. But perhaps they, too, were seeing the fear in his eyes.
It wasn’t the stone wall that had unmanned Tyrus. He had not expected to see it so soon, but he did not believe in his own infallibility so much to think that they wouldn’t get turned around occasionally. As he had walked firmly toward the wall of stones, something caught his peripheral vision. Movement in the trees to the left. He glanced toward it, seeing nothing, and when he looked back he spied her.
Merinda Druidecht.
She was smiling at him, beckoning him to follow her up into the maze of stones blocking their path. She was not spattered in blood with a crooked arm. She looked as she had in the prime of her strength, her reddish-brown hair and expression so reminiscent of Hettie that his heart seized with unquenched pain. There was something . . . otherworldly about her. As he stood stock-still and stared at her, it was immediately clear that no one else could see her.
The fireblood.
Had he used too much of it during the attack of the Shade of Aunwynn and its hounds? Had he crossed the boundary of proper use and entered the boundary of madness? How many times had he suffered the hallucinations of his sister when she went mad? Or Merinda herself when she was afflicted?
No. Not yet. It’s too soon.
He felt his daughter’s grip on his arm, pulling him momentarily back from the brink of utter despair. But he realized with growing sickness that it was already too late.
The madness and hallucinations would only get worse.
“The night has already fallen and the city bells of Kenatos are still ringing. There is word that an army of Boeotians has emerged from the hinterlands northward and is hastening to invade our shores. It is the biggest army they have mustered against us in all the recorded years since the founding of this city. What purpose could they have to throw away their lives against our defenses? What incomprehensible motive drives them? There are even rumors, which I can scarcely give credit to, that the Empress herself leads this force. The gates are shut and the fleet is drawing in to the quays. We are quite safe.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XVII
There was an unsettled look on Tyrus’s face that caused worry to fester inside Annon. Dusk settled over the massive depths of the Scourgelands, thickening the shadows and making every startling sound into a threat. He watched Tyrus from the corner of his eye, feeling his own sense of dread increase. The Weir had found their trail and begun the hunt.
“Why didn’t you use the Tay al-Ard when we faced the hounds?” Kiranrao demanded suddenly, his voice full of enmity.
“I use it as a last resort, Kiranrao. Don’t question my judgment.”
“Your judgment has brought us around in circles so far,” the Romani said coldly.
“If you know a better trail, by all means declare it. Otherwise be silent. They are getting closer.”
Tyrus was normally more patient with Kiranrao. There was a marked change in his tone to what he had used before. With night drawing closer, their troubles would only increase against beings that could see in the dark—or did not require eyes at all.
Do you hear them yet? Annon asked Nizeera in his mind.
Yes.
Annon felt a sensation of coldness enter his limbs. He tried to check his fear, but it was not possible. Tyrus’s story from his last foray into the Scourgelands conjured thoughts that were horrible to ponder.
How far away?
They are coming behind us on three sides, trying to converge their attack. They are fierce hunters, Druidecht. Stand ready.
He swallowed, glancing over at Tyrus and trying to meet his eye, but their leader was steadfastly focusing on the way ahead, dodging over crooked tree limbs and crossing the rugged terrain. The mesh of branches overhead would blot out the moon.
