“Speak!”
Annon sighed deeply. “Tyrus sent us to find Basilides. Do you know of it?”
The Kishion nodded.
“Lukias was persuaded to help us find it. He attempted to convince us along the journey that we would be better served surrendering to the Arch-Rike. He led us there, but refused to grant us any knowledge that would bypass the defenses. He bargained for his life, as any man would. We were attacked by Boeotians along the way, and he assisted us. He was even…ingested by one of the defenders along the outer pass and cut his way out with a long knife. Our truce has been tentative, I assure you. But Erasmus perished inside that horrible place and Khiara and I would have probably perished as well if he had not freed us and led us to the Tay al-Ard that provided the escape. The Arch-Rike himself was leading the hunt for us. We only just escaped.”
The Kishion’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Khiara warily. “What is your role in this, Vaettir?”
“I am a Shaliah. My skills are needed to heal.”
He then gazed down at the prone man. “I will not bother asking you for your motives, Lukias. Surely you can lie well enough to deceive even a black ring.”
“True enough,” Lukias replied evenly. “How did you survive the detonation of the ring?”
The Kishion frowned. “My immunity protects me still.”
Lukias shook his head slowly. “No. What truly protects you, Kishion, is the veil over your memories.” He grunted with pain and slowly stood. “Have you recovered them yet? When the ring burst, did they flood back?”
The Kishion gestured that they had not.
Lukias nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “In every kingdom, there is a man chosen and sent to do the vilest of duties. We all know the King of Wayland is a cunning and ambitious man. He has many rivals. There are many who attempt to topple his power. To preserve it, he thrusts his knife into the vulnerable parts of his enemies. He threatens their kin. Especially their children. Do you even know, Kishion, how many children you have killed? I thought you always wore gloves because you could not bear to see the red on your hands.”
Revulsion and horror swept through Annon. He tried to control his composure, but he could feel the twitching of his cheek muscles, and bile rose into this throat. The Kishion stared at Lukias solemnly. He did not deny it.
“So why would you have joined this quest?” Lukias challenged. “My motives are clear and rather obvious. I believe Tyrus will win. With you to aid him? Even the Preachán would have said the odds improved enormously. If the Arch-Rike falls, another power will step into his place. The King of Wayland is the one to watch. Or Tyrus of Kenatos. I lay my wager with the Paracelsus over the cunning king. I know that I will not earn Tyrus’s trust until his quest is successful. Why are you here, Kishion? What does Tyrus trust you to do?”
There was a snapping of twigs and another shape visible through the trees. “He is my protector.”
Phae stepped through the ring of trees, watching those who had come, and approached the Kishion from behind, standing beside him, but slightly behind him. She rested her hand on his arm, trying to reassure him with her presence. She saw the clenched jaw, the distrust so clearly etched in his expression. She wrestled with her fear of him, but she was determined. She pushed a strand of hair from her face and stared at them all dispassionately.
“My name is Phae,” she said, looking at each of them. “I am Tyrus’s daughter.”
They were each very different. The Vaettir girl was naturally quiet, reserved. She was dressed as a Rike herself, which was odd. But then, the appearance of Prince Aransetis was the same as he had worn the tunic too. She had long black hair, a bruise on her cheek, and a scrape slashing the end of her chin. The middle one, the Druidecht, looked young. He was handsome, but his expression was haunted. The news he had experienced was causing a churn of emotion inside of him and he was wrestling with it still. He wore something around his neck, a piece of jewelry of some kind with glittering stones at the ends. There was a creature just behind him, some strange mountain cat with a beautiful pelt. The final man was a Rike, silver-haired, and his look made Phae distrust him completely. He was goading Shion, trying to unhinge him with secrets from the past. Was Shion a child-killer? Was that why his memories were veiled? She was the one who had encouraged him to seek his past. What if that past was truly too horrible to relive?
While she had waited in the seclusion of the grove, she had listened to the conversation and decided to reveal herself at last. She was alarmed at their presence, but she understood why and how they had come.
Annon sighed deeply. “Tyrus sent us to find Basilides. Do you know of it?”
The Kishion nodded.
“Lukias was persuaded to help us find it. He attempted to convince us along the journey that we would be better served surrendering to the Arch-Rike. He led us there, but refused to grant us any knowledge that would bypass the defenses. He bargained for his life, as any man would. We were attacked by Boeotians along the way, and he assisted us. He was even…ingested by one of the defenders along the outer pass and cut his way out with a long knife. Our truce has been tentative, I assure you. But Erasmus perished inside that horrible place and Khiara and I would have probably perished as well if he had not freed us and led us to the Tay al-Ard that provided the escape. The Arch-Rike himself was leading the hunt for us. We only just escaped.”
The Kishion’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Khiara warily. “What is your role in this, Vaettir?”
“I am a Shaliah. My skills are needed to heal.”
He then gazed down at the prone man. “I will not bother asking you for your motives, Lukias. Surely you can lie well enough to deceive even a black ring.”
“True enough,” Lukias replied evenly. “How did you survive the detonation of the ring?”
The Kishion frowned. “My immunity protects me still.”
Lukias shook his head slowly. “No. What truly protects you, Kishion, is the veil over your memories.” He grunted with pain and slowly stood. “Have you recovered them yet? When the ring burst, did they flood back?”
The Kishion gestured that they had not.
Lukias nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “In every kingdom, there is a man chosen and sent to do the vilest of duties. We all know the King of Wayland is a cunning and ambitious man. He has many rivals. There are many who attempt to topple his power. To preserve it, he thrusts his knife into the vulnerable parts of his enemies. He threatens their kin. Especially their children. Do you even know, Kishion, how many children you have killed? I thought you always wore gloves because you could not bear to see the red on your hands.”
Revulsion and horror swept through Annon. He tried to control his composure, but he could feel the twitching of his cheek muscles, and bile rose into this throat. The Kishion stared at Lukias solemnly. He did not deny it.
“So why would you have joined this quest?” Lukias challenged. “My motives are clear and rather obvious. I believe Tyrus will win. With you to aid him? Even the Preachán would have said the odds improved enormously. If the Arch-Rike falls, another power will step into his place. The King of Wayland is the one to watch. Or Tyrus of Kenatos. I lay my wager with the Paracelsus over the cunning king. I know that I will not earn Tyrus’s trust until his quest is successful. Why are you here, Kishion? What does Tyrus trust you to do?”
There was a snapping of twigs and another shape visible through the trees. “He is my protector.”
Phae stepped through the ring of trees, watching those who had come, and approached the Kishion from behind, standing beside him, but slightly behind him. She rested her hand on his arm, trying to reassure him with her presence. She saw the clenched jaw, the distrust so clearly etched in his expression. She wrestled with her fear of him, but she was determined. She pushed a strand of hair from her face and stared at them all dispassionately.
“My name is Phae,” she said, looking at each of them. “I am Tyrus’s daughter.”
They were each very different. The Vaettir girl was naturally quiet, reserved. She was dressed as a Rike herself, which was odd. But then, the appearance of Prince Aransetis was the same as he had worn the tunic too. She had long black hair, a bruise on her cheek, and a scrape slashing the end of her chin. The middle one, the Druidecht, looked young. He was handsome, but his expression was haunted. The news he had experienced was causing a churn of emotion inside of him and he was wrestling with it still. He wore something around his neck, a piece of jewelry of some kind with glittering stones at the ends. There was a creature just behind him, some strange mountain cat with a beautiful pelt. The final man was a Rike, silver-haired, and his look made Phae distrust him completely. He was goading Shion, trying to unhinge him with secrets from the past. Was Shion a child-killer? Was that why his memories were veiled? She was the one who had encouraged him to seek his past. What if that past was truly too horrible to relive?
While she had waited in the seclusion of the grove, she had listened to the conversation and decided to reveal herself at last. She was alarmed at their presence, but she understood why and how they had come.
