“My mother’s name was Merinda,” Annon said softly, remembering it suddenly. “I only heard you say it once. She was not your sister.”
Tyrus shook his head. “No.”
Annon felt weary. The emotions of the night were still thrumming beneath the surface. “You led me to believe she was. I grew up believing I was your nephew. Why did you deceive me?”
“Why do you think?” Tyrus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You promised me answers.”
“You must earn them. You were kissed by a Dryad, Annon. I see it in your countenance. You have new gifts of insight and wisdom. Use them. Open your mind to the possibilities. Trust what your heart tells you. You already know the answer. You cannot be lazy with me. Think.”
Annon rubbed the rounded edge of the table. It was a light, stained wood. Easily twenty men could sit around it. “You protected me from my mother. She was sick. She used the magic without controlling it. You took me away from her to protect me. But I have no recollection of my sister. Why is that?”
Tyrus nodded slowly. “You would not. She was stolen nearly at birth by a Romani midwife who did not realize there were twins. Neither did I. I did not have the knowledge I needed at the time. I could have saved Hettie and lost you to death in the birthing process. Or save your life and lose Hettie to the Romani. It was a terrible choice.” His face was like flint. “But I chose to save you and lose her. The story I told to the locals was that Merinda was my sister. Which is one of the reasons the Romani kidnapped Hettie in order to blackmail me.”
“Surely you did not lack for ducats,” Annon said tightly.
“Not ducats,” he answered. “Freedom.”
“I do not understand.”
“No. Of course you do not. It took me years to understand that I was a prisoner in Kenatos. Granted, it was a gilded cage. But a cage still. Whenever I tested the limits of my freedom, I felt the bonds around me cinch tighter. Allow me to explain, Annon. I must tell someone, for the Arch-Rike is determined to kill me. I know too much. I pass this knowledge on to you in case I am murdered. Someone else needs to understand the pieces. I have chosen you.”
Annon nodded. His heart throbbed with curiosity. He leaned forward on the bench. Part of him was cautious. Tyrus had deliberately deceived him. He needed to judge for himself whether he was told the truth or not.
“It is my life’s work to banish the Plague, Annon. I chose that calling as a young man. I have lived to see its devastation twice. The suffering is unimaginable. I cannot even begin to explain. There is a great principle you must understand. If you study the lives of the great men and women from any age, you begin to discern a pattern. There are famous individuals, like Band-Imas, the Arch-Rike of Kenatos who built the great temple of learning, but greatness is never achieved alone. One person cannot change the world. I learned this from him as a child. He surrounded himself by others more talented than himself. He united them in a cause—a cause so important they gave their very lives to attain it. The preservation of knowledge. Kenatos. A principle and a doom.”
Tyrus breathed out softly, rubbing his palm across the tabletop. “To fulfill my desire of banishing the Plague, I assembled my own followers. We were united to a single cause. I studied every account. I began to interview anyone who had traveled into the borders of the Scourgelands. There were stories aplenty. I needed facts. Facts are stubborn things, you will discover. I took with me the brightest minds. The fiercest warriors. The most gifted Bhikhu in a generation—your father. I assembled these and sought the blessing of the Arch-Rike. He granted it, and we ventured north and entered the Scourgelands, determined to conquer whatever lay ahead.” His expression began to harden into stone. His eyes were haunted.
“We were destroyed.”
Tyrus stared down at the tabletop, looking at his thumbs. “I would have died myself. I should have died. Your mother saved my life. She was grievously wounded. We were attacked by the creatures that guard the Scourgelands from intruders. She unleashed the magic in her blood to save us and lost her mind as a result. I promised to see her safely home and allow her unborn child a chance at life. The only way we escaped was her revelation to me of the Druidecht secret of the Dryads. They guard the Scourgelands. They are what went wrong. The missing piece of information that ties it all together.”
Annon swallowed, excited. His pulse quickened. “I learned this last night. The Dryad I spoke to told me. Something happened there. What did she call it? A taint. An injustice. She said that the Dryads there are vengeful. Something was done to injure them. A betrayal.”
Tyrus shook his head. “No.”
Annon felt weary. The emotions of the night were still thrumming beneath the surface. “You led me to believe she was. I grew up believing I was your nephew. Why did you deceive me?”
“Why do you think?” Tyrus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You promised me answers.”
“You must earn them. You were kissed by a Dryad, Annon. I see it in your countenance. You have new gifts of insight and wisdom. Use them. Open your mind to the possibilities. Trust what your heart tells you. You already know the answer. You cannot be lazy with me. Think.”
Annon rubbed the rounded edge of the table. It was a light, stained wood. Easily twenty men could sit around it. “You protected me from my mother. She was sick. She used the magic without controlling it. You took me away from her to protect me. But I have no recollection of my sister. Why is that?”
Tyrus nodded slowly. “You would not. She was stolen nearly at birth by a Romani midwife who did not realize there were twins. Neither did I. I did not have the knowledge I needed at the time. I could have saved Hettie and lost you to death in the birthing process. Or save your life and lose Hettie to the Romani. It was a terrible choice.” His face was like flint. “But I chose to save you and lose her. The story I told to the locals was that Merinda was my sister. Which is one of the reasons the Romani kidnapped Hettie in order to blackmail me.”
“Surely you did not lack for ducats,” Annon said tightly.
“Not ducats,” he answered. “Freedom.”
“I do not understand.”
“No. Of course you do not. It took me years to understand that I was a prisoner in Kenatos. Granted, it was a gilded cage. But a cage still. Whenever I tested the limits of my freedom, I felt the bonds around me cinch tighter. Allow me to explain, Annon. I must tell someone, for the Arch-Rike is determined to kill me. I know too much. I pass this knowledge on to you in case I am murdered. Someone else needs to understand the pieces. I have chosen you.”
Annon nodded. His heart throbbed with curiosity. He leaned forward on the bench. Part of him was cautious. Tyrus had deliberately deceived him. He needed to judge for himself whether he was told the truth or not.
“It is my life’s work to banish the Plague, Annon. I chose that calling as a young man. I have lived to see its devastation twice. The suffering is unimaginable. I cannot even begin to explain. There is a great principle you must understand. If you study the lives of the great men and women from any age, you begin to discern a pattern. There are famous individuals, like Band-Imas, the Arch-Rike of Kenatos who built the great temple of learning, but greatness is never achieved alone. One person cannot change the world. I learned this from him as a child. He surrounded himself by others more talented than himself. He united them in a cause—a cause so important they gave their very lives to attain it. The preservation of knowledge. Kenatos. A principle and a doom.”
Tyrus breathed out softly, rubbing his palm across the tabletop. “To fulfill my desire of banishing the Plague, I assembled my own followers. We were united to a single cause. I studied every account. I began to interview anyone who had traveled into the borders of the Scourgelands. There were stories aplenty. I needed facts. Facts are stubborn things, you will discover. I took with me the brightest minds. The fiercest warriors. The most gifted Bhikhu in a generation—your father. I assembled these and sought the blessing of the Arch-Rike. He granted it, and we ventured north and entered the Scourgelands, determined to conquer whatever lay ahead.” His expression began to harden into stone. His eyes were haunted.
“We were destroyed.”
Tyrus stared down at the tabletop, looking at his thumbs. “I would have died myself. I should have died. Your mother saved my life. She was grievously wounded. We were attacked by the creatures that guard the Scourgelands from intruders. She unleashed the magic in her blood to save us and lost her mind as a result. I promised to see her safely home and allow her unborn child a chance at life. The only way we escaped was her revelation to me of the Druidecht secret of the Dryads. They guard the Scourgelands. They are what went wrong. The missing piece of information that ties it all together.”
Annon swallowed, excited. His pulse quickened. “I learned this last night. The Dryad I spoke to told me. Something happened there. What did she call it? A taint. An injustice. She said that the Dryads there are vengeful. Something was done to injure them. A betrayal.”
