Erasmus needed no convincing. “The odds of surviving until daybreak have just improved,” he said.
Paedrin lingered amidst the campfire a moment, then followed them down the hillside. The mist continued to fall until it engulfed them all in a fetid-smelling cloud. A terrible roar sounded behind them, splitting the air with a shriek that went down into Annon’s marrow. It was close behind them. Very close. There was a shuffling noise in the distance. The Fear Liath was tracking them.
The Cruithne increased his pace, each step announcing their location with thunder. If a small tree stood in the way, he simply went through it, snapping the trunk and causing it to crash awkwardly away. Redwoods towered over them, but the lower branches were lost in the thick gauze of milky white fog.
Annon nearly twisted his ankle on a root, and Hettie helped catch him before he fell. He wanted to keep turning around, but Paedrin scowled at him and gestured to keep his eyes on the Cruithne ahead. The shuffling noise grew louder, turning into a bark-like sound.
“This way,” boomed the deep voice as he approached a lightning-struck redwood, one that had fallen and shattered so that only the tangle of exposed roots lay revealed. The thorny fingers of the roots made it seem like some enormous monster, but it was hollowed out by fire and created a small cave. It was not quite tall enough to stand in, but the Cruithne did not hesitate; he hunched forward and entered the cave-like entrance of the tree stump.
Hettie followed and Annon came up behind her. The Cruithne was breathing fast, but he stopped to rest along the curved structure of the cave. Erasmus joined them and chafed his hands for warmth. His breath came in puffs of smoke. Paedrin stood outside, staring into the maw of the tree. The mist trailed off his shoulders. He turned back and stared into the fog, at the sound of the approaching hulk.
The Cruithne watched him, saying nothing. “Stubborn one,” he murmured softly.
Hettie nodded in agreement. “Paedrin!” she snapped. “Get in here!”
“It’s a tree stump,” he replied, not looking back.
“It is a gate to Mirrowen,” the Cruithne whispered.
“What?” the Bhikhu said. “You speak in riddles.”
“Trust us,” Annon soothed. “There is shelter here. Come.”
Paedrin hesitated a moment longer. Stubborn defiance seemed to make knots in his shoulders. His one arm was strapped to his side, but he still looked menacing, waiting for a battle. Waiting to test himself against his fears?
“Who are you?” Annon asked the Cruithne.
“My name is Drosta,” he answered.
Paedrin whirled at that, his eyes wide with interest. He stepped into the cave-like opening, crouching so as not to brush his head against the root fingers. The chill of the mist began to dissipate. The fog started to fall apart.
There was a roar, a roar of helpless frustration and fury.
“The Fear Liath is blind to us now,” the Cruithne said with a mocking smile. “That angers it.”
“Why can’t it find us?” Paedrin said, staring at the old man’s face.
“You would not understand if I explained it. What was important is that I won your trust in as few words as possible. In desperate moments, scorching truth is needed, not convincing argument. We do not have long to speak. What I must say is crucially important. Listen for as long as you can.”
Annon was about to interrupt, but the Cruithne held up his massive, thick hand. “You will be asleep in moments and will awake at sunrise in a different place. This is a gateway to Mirrowen, and you will suffer the effects to mortals. Remember as much as you can. A little learning, indeed, may be a dangerous thing, but the want of learning is a calamity to any people. That has been the failing of Kenatos. Not a lack of intelligence, but a lack of wisdom. My name was Drosta Paracelsus. And you have found my blade. I fashioned it. I made it. It is called the Iddawc.”
He motioned for Annon to produce it. As he uncovered it from within his cloak, the Cruithne’s face crumpled into a dark scowl. “It lives. It is a spirit weapon. There is a spirit hosted inside it, and Iddawc is its name. Knowing this, you can control it. There is only one being such as this in all of this world or Mirrowen. It was discovered by the Cruithne deep in the mines. I cannot tell you how many were killed before we learned what it was capable of doing. It was a Druidecht who warned us, but I was foolish. I knew it would be valuable to trap such a being. I devised a plan, and the Arch-Rike approved the price. I will not tell you the price, for it would be unseemly. We did not trap it; we helped it transform. It was my vanity, my pride. You see, power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will.”