Dryad-Born (Whispers from Mirrowen #2)

They sat around a small campfire in a cave made from fallen boulders. The enormous stones shielded the light and hid them from anyone passing by the foothills below. Scrub and rock littered the land, a boneyard of granite and fissures. They had seen many lizards along the way, some quite large. Serpents slithered away from them, unused to disruption by mankind in the inhospitable terrain. The shelter was large enough to provide cover for them. The ground was powdery dust.

Annon stared into the fire, reaching out through his talisman for spirits in the area. It was not the type of creatures he was used to in Wayland, but they responded to him immediately, coming in the form of moths and dragonflies as his companions ate their rations in silence, faces haggard from the arduous walk.

Greetings, Druidecht. May we be of service to you?

It was an oddly formal greeting, but it pleased Annon that they were not harsh or distrustful.

The Aeduan sitting next to me is a Rike from Kenatos. I would appreciate it if he fell asleep quickly.

He felt the throb of anger in their emotions. Shall we poison his food, master? The Rikes are enemies. They poison these mountains.

No—just sleep.

A colorful moth appeared from the shadows behind Lukias, hovering above his head. Fine trailers of dust came from its wings, sprinkling down on the Rike’s head. Lukias was eating a hard biscuit, chewing it determinedly and Annon watched as his eyes grew heavy. He rubbed them, shaking his head in distraction. His eyes began to droop and the crust of biscuit dropped from his hand. Without a word, he stretched out on the ground and fell into a deep slumber.

Erasmus and Khiara stared at Lukias in confusion.

Annon smiled at them and nodded. “He will sleep all night,” he said. “I wanted to speak freely with you.”

Erasmus rubbed his mouth. “I recall a very similar feeling when we reached Canton Vaud and your friend, Reeder. Did I fall asleep that quickly as well?”

Nizeera padded into the firelight, returning from her hunt with a hare in her jaws. She nestled down deeper into the cave and started to pick at her meal.

Annon nodded. “Give me your prediction, Erasmus. Will Lukias betray us?”

“A one in ten chance that he will not,” came the definitive reply. “I’m glad you asked, because I was beginning to worry about your judgment, young man. You speak too freely.”

Annon scratched at an itch on his wrist. “It’s a difficult balance when he has a ring himself. I believe he is not lying deliberately. But his devotion to and knowledge of the Arch-Rike may continue to be useful to us. You say he’ll betray us. When?”

Erasmus took out a handful of nuts from his pack and started munching on them. “Not at the entrance of Basilides. He would wait until we were inside. Lost, perhaps. When we no longer have the upper hand in his confinement. He is adept at soothing fears. I do not trust him at all. Nor should you.”

Annon nodded and gazed into the fire in the ring of stones. He stared at the variety of colors, at the whip-like tongues of flame leaping out from the brush they had gathered to feed it. “What of you, Khiara. What is your assessment?”

She shrugged, saying nothing.

“Please, Khiara. I would hear you as well.”

“It is difficult to understand his motives in helping us,” she replied softly, looking down at her lap. “I have spent time studying the ways of the Rikes of Seithrall. The prince and I—” She fell suddenly silent, not speaking for a moment. “There are many troubling aspects to their religion. They are skilled in argument and logic. They are students of the mind. The man we have been walking with has tried too hard to calm our concerns about him. That troubles me. He does not act like a man disillusioned by his training.”

Annon sighed, concurring with both of their observations. “How long will he…live?” Annon asked her, glancing at her face. “How much time was he given when he was revived?”

She did not look up. “A fortnight. His heart will stop again before that time is through.”

Erasmus shivered. “Reminds me of a Romani proverb. It’s bad manners to talk about ropes in the house of a man whose father was hanged. You are sure he will die? He seems hale.”

Khiara nodded. “His borrowed time came at a cost.”

Shifting to get more comfortable, Annon glanced over at Nizeera. What are your thoughts? He asked her.

She snagged a thread of flesh in her teeth and yanked hard. I wondered when you would ask me.

I value your instincts. What do you say?

She ignored him for several moments, digging into the flesh while holding it still with her claws. Why else did you wish to bring him?

You know that already. To understand the thinking of my enemy.

Her head came up, her luminous eyes fixing his. Blood dribbled from her chin. And what have you learned about your enemy so far?