Phae heard the words from the man’s own mouth. “I’ve come for my daughter.”
It was her father. Tyrus of Kenatos. Tyrus Paracelsus. She stared at him in shock, her heart burning with a sudden unfamiliar feeling—hope. Her father had survived the Kishion’s attack. He was limping slightly, she could see that, but he had survived. It meant that the Kishion was not unstoppable.
The Kishion slipped off the saddle, fast as a hawk. He pulled Phae down, catching her before she sprawled on her face. His arm was made of iron and fastened around her neck and she saw his dagger appear in his other hand. He did not stop her from breathing, but he was clearly claiming ownership of her.
Tyrus held up his hand. “If I had wanted to steal her from you, I would have waited in the tunnel and touched her as you passed by. Hear me out, Kishion.”
She heard the Kishion’s breath coming in short puffs. “I have orders to bring her to Kenatos.”
“This is the only road to Kenatos,” Tyrus said. “With one word, I can collapse this tunnel and delay your journey back. I am here to make you an offer. I wish you to join us.”
The Kishion snorted. “I am loyal to the Arch-Rike. You waste your breath.”
Tyrus shook his head slowly. Phae’s heart trembled, wondering what he was going to do or say. Fighting him was impossible. She gripped the Kishion’s arm, but did not try to pull it away. Her knees began to quake. The dagger was near her. She saw it poised, ready to plunge into her. Please don’t kill me, she thought.
“I can help you,” Tyrus said, his hand open calmingly, as if he were trying to soothe a skittish horse. “Let me tell you what I know about you. It may be more than you know. Here is my offer. I know how your memories can be restored. I can provide you the chance to learn who you really are and why the music from that little charm affected you so much.”
The Kishion hoisted Phae up higher, keeping his arm around her neck. She felt the dagger tip press against her side and she began shaking all over, her breath coming in gasps.
“How did you survive?” the Kishion demanded. “My dagger went inside you. You are not protected by magic like I am.”
“You are not protected by magic at all,” Tyrus replied. “I know all of the types of spirits that can or have been harnessed, including the blade Iddawc. I also know that the blade Iddawc can kill you. It was designed to. The Arch-Rike claimed that it would be used by you to kill others. But it was invented to protect him against you. He fears you, Kishion. With good reason.”
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.”