“I’m staring, I’m sorry,” she said, offering a weak smile. “We were attacked by the Arch-Rike’s forces and had to flee. Tyrus brought us to Silvandom, but we split up because one of us was wounded—”
“The Prince?” Khiara interrupted, her face drawn with worry.
Phae shook her head. “No, he is safe. There was a man we met in the mountains of Alkire who sheltered us. Evritt is his name. He was injured in the Arch-Rike’s attack and they took him to the city for a healer. The two of us have been evading the Arch-Rike’s minions. We found our way here. I think you all know…what I am.”
Annon stared at her in awe. “You are Dryad-born.”
Phae nodded. “I am. There is something I must do here though. I do not know how much time we have before Tyrus finds us again. Or the Arch-Rike for that matter. Annon, would you join me? The others must wait outside the rim of trees. Shion…will you keep the others away?”
He glanced at her in concern and hesitated, his fists clenching.
“I will be safe with Annon,” she whispered, squeezing his arm. “The Dryad will keep me so.”
He nodded finally and then gestured for Khiara and Lukias to retreat the way they had come. They obeyed, vanishing into the woods. Phae studied the young man, who was barely older than her. He stared at her in return.
“You look like Tyrus,” Annon told her, shaking his head. She wore a ribbed shirt and trousers with a thick leather belt. It was not the look or the fashion of Wayland, but he had seen those from Stonehollow wear such clothes before. It was a dusty place, thick with stones. Her hair was lighter than his, but still bore the telltale sign of their fireblood. She looked fit and hale, her hair clean and slightly damp. Her clothes were a bit tattered and frayed.
“Is that a compliment?” she asked, wrinkling her brow.
He approached her and took her hand with both of his. “You’ve seen your father, then?”
“I have.”
He closed his eyes, relieved beyond words. “I thought he was dead.”
“He was dead, Annon. Shion killed him with a dagger. Well, if there is one thing my father knows how to do better than being a Paracelsus, it’s to survive. Prince Aran found me in Stonehollow, but I snuck away not trusting him. I wish now that I had. I was found by Shion and he took me captive and was bringing me to the Arch-Rike when Tyrus and Aran discovered us. This has all come about very fast. But I know who I am. I know what my father intends for me.” She swallowed, her look nervous. “I have accepted my fate. I believe you are the only one he told everything to. Which is why I wanted to speak to you alone, and not in front of the others.”
Annon smiled at her. “If only Paedrin and Hettie were here as well, we would be ready to face the Scourgelands right now. I have learned of another way to enter. A way that will bring us close inside. Tyrus has a Tay al-Ard. I have the knowledge of the location. I think this bodes well for our success.”
He glanced over at Neodesha’s tree, longing to speak to the Dryad again.
Phae must have caught his look, for she tugged at his sleeve. “This is why I wished to speak to you alone. She wants to see you again, Annon. She knew as soon as you arrived. Go to her.”
“One can never predict the true course of action in a war. It is by nature unpredictable. But knowledge is surfacing in the city that there was a thwarted assassination attempt against the Arch-Rike as he traveled to counsel with the King of Wayland. These are surely tumultuous times.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Annon winced at the gashes in the trunk of the mighty oak. The foliage that had been burned was already beginning to heal and revive. It constantly amazed him how fire caused a forest to be reborn. They were as natural companions as water and wind. His fingers grazed the jagged bark of the tree.
He heard Neodesha’s voice before he saw her.
“I told you the injury to the tree does not harm me,” she said lightly, a smile lilting the sound. She appeared around that side of the tree, wearing the same dress he had seen her in before. Her bare feet crunched on the leaves.
“I’ve not forgotten anything you’ve told me,” he answered, his heart suddenly in pain with longing. “How far does our connection reach, Neodesha? I could swear I heard you in Basilides.”
She gave him a pretty smile that tortured him. “It is not so much the distance as the state of your emotions. I felt your terror, Annon. When you are calm or quiet, I cannot hear or see you very well. I’m grateful you survived.”
“The Prince?” Khiara interrupted, her face drawn with worry.
Phae shook her head. “No, he is safe. There was a man we met in the mountains of Alkire who sheltered us. Evritt is his name. He was injured in the Arch-Rike’s attack and they took him to the city for a healer. The two of us have been evading the Arch-Rike’s minions. We found our way here. I think you all know…what I am.”
Annon stared at her in awe. “You are Dryad-born.”
Phae nodded. “I am. There is something I must do here though. I do not know how much time we have before Tyrus finds us again. Or the Arch-Rike for that matter. Annon, would you join me? The others must wait outside the rim of trees. Shion…will you keep the others away?”
He glanced at her in concern and hesitated, his fists clenching.
“I will be safe with Annon,” she whispered, squeezing his arm. “The Dryad will keep me so.”
He nodded finally and then gestured for Khiara and Lukias to retreat the way they had come. They obeyed, vanishing into the woods. Phae studied the young man, who was barely older than her. He stared at her in return.
“You look like Tyrus,” Annon told her, shaking his head. She wore a ribbed shirt and trousers with a thick leather belt. It was not the look or the fashion of Wayland, but he had seen those from Stonehollow wear such clothes before. It was a dusty place, thick with stones. Her hair was lighter than his, but still bore the telltale sign of their fireblood. She looked fit and hale, her hair clean and slightly damp. Her clothes were a bit tattered and frayed.
“Is that a compliment?” she asked, wrinkling her brow.
He approached her and took her hand with both of his. “You’ve seen your father, then?”
“I have.”
He closed his eyes, relieved beyond words. “I thought he was dead.”
“He was dead, Annon. Shion killed him with a dagger. Well, if there is one thing my father knows how to do better than being a Paracelsus, it’s to survive. Prince Aran found me in Stonehollow, but I snuck away not trusting him. I wish now that I had. I was found by Shion and he took me captive and was bringing me to the Arch-Rike when Tyrus and Aran discovered us. This has all come about very fast. But I know who I am. I know what my father intends for me.” She swallowed, her look nervous. “I have accepted my fate. I believe you are the only one he told everything to. Which is why I wanted to speak to you alone, and not in front of the others.”
Annon smiled at her. “If only Paedrin and Hettie were here as well, we would be ready to face the Scourgelands right now. I have learned of another way to enter. A way that will bring us close inside. Tyrus has a Tay al-Ard. I have the knowledge of the location. I think this bodes well for our success.”
He glanced over at Neodesha’s tree, longing to speak to the Dryad again.
Phae must have caught his look, for she tugged at his sleeve. “This is why I wished to speak to you alone. She wants to see you again, Annon. She knew as soon as you arrived. Go to her.”
“One can never predict the true course of action in a war. It is by nature unpredictable. But knowledge is surfacing in the city that there was a thwarted assassination attempt against the Arch-Rike as he traveled to counsel with the King of Wayland. These are surely tumultuous times.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Annon winced at the gashes in the trunk of the mighty oak. The foliage that had been burned was already beginning to heal and revive. It constantly amazed him how fire caused a forest to be reborn. They were as natural companions as water and wind. His fingers grazed the jagged bark of the tree.
He heard Neodesha’s voice before he saw her.
“I told you the injury to the tree does not harm me,” she said lightly, a smile lilting the sound. She appeared around that side of the tree, wearing the same dress he had seen her in before. Her bare feet crunched on the leaves.
“I’ve not forgotten anything you’ve told me,” he answered, his heart suddenly in pain with longing. “How far does our connection reach, Neodesha? I could swear I heard you in Basilides.”
She gave him a pretty smile that tortured him. “It is not so much the distance as the state of your emotions. I felt your terror, Annon. When you are calm or quiet, I cannot hear or see you very well. I’m grateful you survived.”
