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 nodded. “Exactly. It is lost to human memory. But it is written in the trees in those cursed woods. Another Dryad could read what is written there. Another Dryad could learn the truth. I have my suspicions, but you need facts. Let me hasten to provide them.” Tyrus leaned forward, his face intense. “While I was in hiding, caring for your mother, I pondered what went wrong. I did not have your insight then. I wish I had it earlier, but experience is the thing that you get just after the time when you need it most. It was in a little stone hovel when I realized we had walked into a trap. We had hardly grazed the outer defenses of the woods before we were so violently attacked and repelled. I kept asking myself how they had known we were coming? How had they assembled so quickly? I could not see it then, but it came to me.”
A thought struck Annon forcefully. “The Arch-Rike.”
Tyrus smiled broadly. “Truly you are wiser than I was at your age. Exactly. He had given us his blessing. Blithely sending us away to our deaths. Some secrets must remain hidden at all costs. Whatever travesty or injustice occurred in the Scourgelands, it is clear to me now that the Rikes of Kenatos seek to continue it. I had a choice to make. I knew that if I did not return to Kenatos, the Arch-Rike would suspect that I had discovered his treachery. So I voluntarily went back into my prison after you were born and left you to live with the Druidecht in Wayland. I returned and admitted my failure to the Arch-Rike. I told him I had barely escaped with my life and had been healing and regaining my strength. This was true, of course. Just not the whole truth. I gave him just enough. He never knew Merinda was with child. I did not want him to know about you.”
Annon pursed his lips. “Why did you come to me as a child?”
“You know the answer already. Why even ask it?”