“Yes, but the names on the crypts were of the living.” Annon stopped, his face brightening. “The one with Kenatos had the name Band-Imas on it. The current Arch-Rike, not one of those from the past. Erasmus said the Arch-Rike was masquerading. Wasn’t that the word he used?”
“Yes,” Khiara answered. “A disguise. The crypt marked Wayland had the current king’s name. Again . . . the living.”
Tyrus was deathly still.
Annon shook his head in frustration. “He’d realized a truth, Tyrus. You know how Erasmus was always making predictions. He perceived something about the Arch-Rike. There was a pattern there amidst the stone boxes that he understood. Before he could explain it to us, he died. There were serpents everywhere. Several bit him before attacking us.”
“There are serpents in the Scourgelands as well,” Tyrus said. He steepled his fingers, drawing deeply into himself. “Is that all you can remember?”
Annon began pacing again. “I’m trying . . . but we nearly died too. I had not even thought of it until now, when you said the word Poisonwell. It triggered the memory.”
“And where is this hidden temple the Arch-Rike is so secretive about?” Kiranrao asked.
“You’ve lost your treasure and so you are seeking a new one now?” Paedrin mocked.
“You test my patience, boy. I could go there and seek new information. I can get past its defenders.”
Tyrus shook his head and waved his hand. “It is probably the place the Arch-Rike expected us to flee to from Canton Vaud. Undoubtedly there is an overwhelming force awaiting us there. Your magic is strong, Kiranrao . . . I do not doubt that. Because Annon was there, we can go to the tunnels whenever we wish. I chose Boeotia because it is the one place the Arch-Rike cannot hunt for us unmolested. He is expecting us to enter the Scourgelands right away out of desperation. Our advantage lies in being unpredictable.”
“The Uddhava,” Paedrin said.
Tyrus nodded. He rose to his full height and Phae felt insignificant in his shadow. “Poisonwell is our destination. It is a strange nexus between our world and Mirrowen. The entire forest of the Scourgelands exists to thwart us. My plan is simple. We will pass the Arch-Rike’s defenses by being unpredictable. We will skirt the borders of the Scourgelands north, testing its boundaries, bringing its defenders after us. Then, with the Tay al-Ard, we will come back to the different points we have been to, causing some fires and attacking its defenders, and then come away again. The Tay al-Ard is critical because it can bring us to a place where we have been before. It will allow us to flee quickly when the beasts threaten to overpower us. By moving constantly, we will penetrate the woods at various points. The defenders will not know where we will strike next. If we focus carefully and don’t gaze at the trees, we’ll avoid the eyes of the Dryads, which will try to trick us into looking harder. That is the secret Declan began to deduce before we abandoned him. Any tree with mistletoe must be avoided at all costs.”
Baylen spoke up. “You won’t kill a bear if you keep poking its hide with needles. You will only make it angrier. We want to kill this one.”
Tyrus shook his head. “No, Baylen, we cannot kill this one. You do not understand or appreciate the number of defenders in the forest. We must distract them. Make them hunt us. And we must stay out of their reach. If the King of Wayland marched his entire army into the Scourgelands, they would be decimated. There is no weapon we could use, not even the blade Iddawc, for there is no single enemy to slay. A smaller force will stand better odds of slipping through. When we’re attacked on all sides, we will gather around me and disappear. This is the part where you will all have to trust me. I will be the judge of when it is time to flee. The creatures who oppose us are driven by an intelligence. They do not always fight to the death. Sometimes they flee and then come again soon after. I have faced these threats before and survived.” His look was hardened with the experience. “I will decide when to flee. When I give the command—Hasten!—you need to come to me immediately. Grab my arm or grab each other and I will use the Tay al-Ard to bring us to another place. When I say the word, I will count in my mind for five seconds. Like this . . . one—two—three—four—five. You must be with me by the end or you will be left behind.”
Phae felt coldness go down her spine. She looked up at her father in shock.
Kiranrao snorted.
“You do not appreciate the savagery of our enemies. You do not comprehend how lethal they can be.” He sighed. “I do not expect that all of us will survive. That would be foolish in the extreme. We must have faith in each other and you must trust me fully to know when the right time is to pull away. Our foes are powerful. The Scourgelands have been a land of death for too long. In the city of Kenatos, there is a game the Paracelsus play called Bad-kejon. It moves very quickly and often turns unpredictably. Once we enter that place, we are playing Bad-kejon with a ruthless enemy who seeks our death. I won’t have time to explain my motives or my thinking to you. I won’t have time to persuade you why I’m trusting my instincts in a given situation.” His voice grew ragged and he took a leather flask from his belt and gulped down some water. “Those who survive this ordeal will do so if you obey and observe to perform every word of command from me . . . with exactness.”
“Yes,” Khiara answered. “A disguise. The crypt marked Wayland had the current king’s name. Again . . . the living.”
Tyrus was deathly still.
Annon shook his head in frustration. “He’d realized a truth, Tyrus. You know how Erasmus was always making predictions. He perceived something about the Arch-Rike. There was a pattern there amidst the stone boxes that he understood. Before he could explain it to us, he died. There were serpents everywhere. Several bit him before attacking us.”
“There are serpents in the Scourgelands as well,” Tyrus said. He steepled his fingers, drawing deeply into himself. “Is that all you can remember?”
Annon began pacing again. “I’m trying . . . but we nearly died too. I had not even thought of it until now, when you said the word Poisonwell. It triggered the memory.”
“And where is this hidden temple the Arch-Rike is so secretive about?” Kiranrao asked.
“You’ve lost your treasure and so you are seeking a new one now?” Paedrin mocked.
“You test my patience, boy. I could go there and seek new information. I can get past its defenders.”
Tyrus shook his head and waved his hand. “It is probably the place the Arch-Rike expected us to flee to from Canton Vaud. Undoubtedly there is an overwhelming force awaiting us there. Your magic is strong, Kiranrao . . . I do not doubt that. Because Annon was there, we can go to the tunnels whenever we wish. I chose Boeotia because it is the one place the Arch-Rike cannot hunt for us unmolested. He is expecting us to enter the Scourgelands right away out of desperation. Our advantage lies in being unpredictable.”
“The Uddhava,” Paedrin said.
Tyrus nodded. He rose to his full height and Phae felt insignificant in his shadow. “Poisonwell is our destination. It is a strange nexus between our world and Mirrowen. The entire forest of the Scourgelands exists to thwart us. My plan is simple. We will pass the Arch-Rike’s defenses by being unpredictable. We will skirt the borders of the Scourgelands north, testing its boundaries, bringing its defenders after us. Then, with the Tay al-Ard, we will come back to the different points we have been to, causing some fires and attacking its defenders, and then come away again. The Tay al-Ard is critical because it can bring us to a place where we have been before. It will allow us to flee quickly when the beasts threaten to overpower us. By moving constantly, we will penetrate the woods at various points. The defenders will not know where we will strike next. If we focus carefully and don’t gaze at the trees, we’ll avoid the eyes of the Dryads, which will try to trick us into looking harder. That is the secret Declan began to deduce before we abandoned him. Any tree with mistletoe must be avoided at all costs.”
Baylen spoke up. “You won’t kill a bear if you keep poking its hide with needles. You will only make it angrier. We want to kill this one.”
Tyrus shook his head. “No, Baylen, we cannot kill this one. You do not understand or appreciate the number of defenders in the forest. We must distract them. Make them hunt us. And we must stay out of their reach. If the King of Wayland marched his entire army into the Scourgelands, they would be decimated. There is no weapon we could use, not even the blade Iddawc, for there is no single enemy to slay. A smaller force will stand better odds of slipping through. When we’re attacked on all sides, we will gather around me and disappear. This is the part where you will all have to trust me. I will be the judge of when it is time to flee. The creatures who oppose us are driven by an intelligence. They do not always fight to the death. Sometimes they flee and then come again soon after. I have faced these threats before and survived.” His look was hardened with the experience. “I will decide when to flee. When I give the command—Hasten!—you need to come to me immediately. Grab my arm or grab each other and I will use the Tay al-Ard to bring us to another place. When I say the word, I will count in my mind for five seconds. Like this . . . one—two—three—four—five. You must be with me by the end or you will be left behind.”
Phae felt coldness go down her spine. She looked up at her father in shock.
Kiranrao snorted.
“You do not appreciate the savagery of our enemies. You do not comprehend how lethal they can be.” He sighed. “I do not expect that all of us will survive. That would be foolish in the extreme. We must have faith in each other and you must trust me fully to know when the right time is to pull away. Our foes are powerful. The Scourgelands have been a land of death for too long. In the city of Kenatos, there is a game the Paracelsus play called Bad-kejon. It moves very quickly and often turns unpredictably. Once we enter that place, we are playing Bad-kejon with a ruthless enemy who seeks our death. I won’t have time to explain my motives or my thinking to you. I won’t have time to persuade you why I’m trusting my instincts in a given situation.” His voice grew ragged and he took a leather flask from his belt and gulped down some water. “Those who survive this ordeal will do so if you obey and observe to perform every word of command from me . . . with exactness.”
