Phae felt the Kishion’s body start to tremble. Her own was affecting his. She pulled slightly on his arm. “Please,” she whispered. “I won’t run.”
His gloved fist was clenched and shook. He slowly eased his grip on her, but he did not lower the dagger. “I hold you to your promise,” he warned.
Phae nodded, staring from her father to her captor. She turned and looked up at the Kishion’s face, saw the whirlwind of emotions playing out there. He was desperately curious. She knew the knowledge being offered tormented him.
“What would you ask of me?” Tyrus asked, taking a cautious step closer. “I will not take her by force. I will not defy your mission. But think before you bring her back. Do you really want to go back to your cell in the Arch-Rike’s dungeons again?”
“What?” the Kishion snapped.
“That is where he keeps you. His puppet. His killer who cannot be killed. He is afraid of you learning the truth about yourself. He fears you turning on him. He steals your memories to control you.”
The Kishion’s frown was terrifying. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in the corners bulging. “Tell me about the music. What is it?”
“It came from the Scourgelands,” Tyrus said. “One could say it is even the hymn of the Scourgelands. Ancient spirits sing it still, which is why they are captured. The tune is melancholy. The song is part of you somehow. You are from the Scourgelands, Kishion. I know it. You bear the marks, the same as I do. Come with us back to your homeland. We will uncover the secrets of your past. There, your memory can be restored. I know how it can be done.”
“But not here?” the Kishion asked, his voice full of distrust.
“No, the knowledge you seek can only be restored there. I need your help. I charge you to protect my daughter. She is the key to opening the door. There is no one else I could trust her safety to better than you. If you decide my motives are deceptions, you are free to fulfill your mission at any time. I do not force you, Kishion. Join us willingly.”
The Kishion’s voice was raw with emotion. “The ring I wear will explode.”
Tyrus shook his head. “It will if you venture back into the Arch-Rike’s domains. But even if it did, it will not harm you. You are not protected by magic, Kishion. You are what you are. You cannot be harmed except by the blade Iddawc. You are not trusted by the Arch-Rike. He does not want you to remember.”
“Prove it,” the Kishion said menacingly.
“I do not need to convince you,” Tyrus said, shaking his head. “Your heart already tells you that I speak the truth. These are my motives. I seek to end the Plague. That is my goal and my destiny. I have assembled a mastermind, if you will, to help accomplish this. Just as the Arch-Rike has assembled one to prevent it, to conceal the knowledge that was lost. Tell me why the Arch-Rike seeks to thwart me? Give me his reasons? You cannot, for he has told you nothing. You are a slave to be sent to kill whoever crosses him. Then he strips away your memory under the false guise that he is saving your conscience. He knows how to stop it and conceals that knowledge to preserve his own power. Why else would he have summoned you to kill me? Listen to reason! You owe him loyalty because he tells you that you do? He cannot force you to obey him. Come with us and learn the truth. Protect my daughter from the dangers that threaten in the Scourgelands. Let us reveal the secrets that have long been guarded.”
Phae was terrified at her father’s words. She had no desire to enter the Scourgelands. But she knew that it had something to do with her being Dryad-born, that her ability to steal memories played a role in the absence of the Kishion’s. She did not know why her father had abandoned her for all of these years. But seeing him in person, seeing the look of emotion on his face, she felt relief swelling up inside her as well as fear that he was gambling with her life.
She stared up at the Kishion’s face next. “Please,” she begged. “At least we can listen to him?”
The Kishion stared at Tyrus defiantly, his expression stiff and furious. “I cannot trust your words alone,” he said. “Stand aside. Let us pass. Prove you won’t interfere with my mission.”
“Please!” Phae implored.
A voice came from above. It was like a whisper but it pierced her soul, the echo of it thrumming in her mind. It was as if the sky had spoken it. Kishion, kill her now.
Phae saw that they all heard the voice. She did not know where it came from, but it made her soul despair and her knees buckle. She faced the Kishion fully, gazing into his eyes with anguish. She would not run from him though he still held the dagger aimed at her ribs.
His gloved fist was clenched and shook. He slowly eased his grip on her, but he did not lower the dagger. “I hold you to your promise,” he warned.
Phae nodded, staring from her father to her captor. She turned and looked up at the Kishion’s face, saw the whirlwind of emotions playing out there. He was desperately curious. She knew the knowledge being offered tormented him.
“What would you ask of me?” Tyrus asked, taking a cautious step closer. “I will not take her by force. I will not defy your mission. But think before you bring her back. Do you really want to go back to your cell in the Arch-Rike’s dungeons again?”
“What?” the Kishion snapped.
“That is where he keeps you. His puppet. His killer who cannot be killed. He is afraid of you learning the truth about yourself. He fears you turning on him. He steals your memories to control you.”
The Kishion’s frown was terrifying. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in the corners bulging. “Tell me about the music. What is it?”
“It came from the Scourgelands,” Tyrus said. “One could say it is even the hymn of the Scourgelands. Ancient spirits sing it still, which is why they are captured. The tune is melancholy. The song is part of you somehow. You are from the Scourgelands, Kishion. I know it. You bear the marks, the same as I do. Come with us back to your homeland. We will uncover the secrets of your past. There, your memory can be restored. I know how it can be done.”
“But not here?” the Kishion asked, his voice full of distrust.
“No, the knowledge you seek can only be restored there. I need your help. I charge you to protect my daughter. She is the key to opening the door. There is no one else I could trust her safety to better than you. If you decide my motives are deceptions, you are free to fulfill your mission at any time. I do not force you, Kishion. Join us willingly.”
The Kishion’s voice was raw with emotion. “The ring I wear will explode.”
Tyrus shook his head. “It will if you venture back into the Arch-Rike’s domains. But even if it did, it will not harm you. You are not protected by magic, Kishion. You are what you are. You cannot be harmed except by the blade Iddawc. You are not trusted by the Arch-Rike. He does not want you to remember.”
“Prove it,” the Kishion said menacingly.
“I do not need to convince you,” Tyrus said, shaking his head. “Your heart already tells you that I speak the truth. These are my motives. I seek to end the Plague. That is my goal and my destiny. I have assembled a mastermind, if you will, to help accomplish this. Just as the Arch-Rike has assembled one to prevent it, to conceal the knowledge that was lost. Tell me why the Arch-Rike seeks to thwart me? Give me his reasons? You cannot, for he has told you nothing. You are a slave to be sent to kill whoever crosses him. Then he strips away your memory under the false guise that he is saving your conscience. He knows how to stop it and conceals that knowledge to preserve his own power. Why else would he have summoned you to kill me? Listen to reason! You owe him loyalty because he tells you that you do? He cannot force you to obey him. Come with us and learn the truth. Protect my daughter from the dangers that threaten in the Scourgelands. Let us reveal the secrets that have long been guarded.”
Phae was terrified at her father’s words. She had no desire to enter the Scourgelands. But she knew that it had something to do with her being Dryad-born, that her ability to steal memories played a role in the absence of the Kishion’s. She did not know why her father had abandoned her for all of these years. But seeing him in person, seeing the look of emotion on his face, she felt relief swelling up inside her as well as fear that he was gambling with her life.
She stared up at the Kishion’s face next. “Please,” she begged. “At least we can listen to him?”
The Kishion stared at Tyrus defiantly, his expression stiff and furious. “I cannot trust your words alone,” he said. “Stand aside. Let us pass. Prove you won’t interfere with my mission.”
“Please!” Phae implored.
A voice came from above. It was like a whisper but it pierced her soul, the echo of it thrumming in her mind. It was as if the sky had spoken it. Kishion, kill her now.
Phae saw that they all heard the voice. She did not know where it came from, but it made her soul despair and her knees buckle. She faced the Kishion fully, gazing into his eyes with anguish. She would not run from him though he still held the dagger aimed at her ribs.
