Annon stared at Phae’s ashen face. Suddenly, her skin began to flush with color and she began to breathe. Hope surged inside him, lifting him from the despair. They crowded around her as her eyes fluttered open.
“Amazing,” Annon whispered, covering his mouth. Phae winced, suddenly aware of the pain through her body. The cut on her head began to drip small beads of blood. She looked up at each of them, wrinkling her nose, but when her eyes finally locked on Shion’s, she rose up and hugged him, burying her face shyly against his chest.
Annon’s heart burned inside him, soothing the pain from his slashed face. His hands were throbbing. He dared not look at them for fear of what he would see. They had survived the ordeal. Somehow, they had survived it, but not without its victims.
Hettie stifled her own tears and turned away from the scene, her eyes glistening with pain, her expression contorted with the rush of emotions. Annon went and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him, holding her close.
Hettie shook her head sadly, brushing the tears angrily from her eyes. “The fool,” she stammered, her bravado masking her worry. “The pigheaded fool. Paedrin, you really have sheep-brains.”
Annon wanted to chuckle, but another part of him wanted to sob. “My heart hurts right now. I’m not sure what to feel.”
He glanced over at Prince Aransetis, who knelt alone, stone-faced, his mouth curled down in a dark frown. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, uttering a Vaettir prayer under his breath. Tyrus stood solemnly, patting Aran’s shoulder, his gaze brooding but controlled. The half-wild look in his eyes was gone. He turned to Annon and motioned for him to approach.
Annon studied the woods, seeing the weave of trees around them. There were strange skeletal oaks, stripped of leaves and mistletoe, blackened and stubby. All around was gorse. They were standing thick in it, vibrant and colorful. The air smelled fresh and clean. Farther away, surrounding them on all sides, were more vast, shaggy oaks, like gnarled sentinels all around.
“What is this place?” Annon asked, his voice hoarse. “Are we still in the Scourgelands?”
Tyrus nodded gravely. “This is the place . . . this is where your mother, Merinda Druidecht, went mad saving me from the Weir.” He raised his arm and swept it across the grove. “She burned everything to ash all around here. Look how it is grown and revived. Fire renews a forest over time.” He dropped his arm and sighed deeply.
“Was this all part of your plan?” Annon asked, feeling conflicting emotions competing inside of him. He wasn’t sure what he should be feeling.
“I had not meant . . . for Khiara to die,” Tyrus said heavily. A flash of dark emotions rippled in his eyes, but his iron will contained it. “That was unexpected. I thought Baylen would have lasted longer as well, but no man faces a Fear Liath unscathed. I could not predict how Kiranrao would react in every situation.” He pursed his lips, still trying to master himself. “I expected he would try to kill me or Phae. That left Khiara unprotected.” He sighed. “Gather round me. Let me explain.”
Tyrus knelt in the gorse by Phae and Shion and motioned for Annon, Hettie, and Prince Aran to join them. He had a pained look on his face, but not the anger or madness he had shown earlier. “My heart is heavy,” he admitted. “I’m disappointed in Paedrin’s choice. I’m not surprised, but it pains me. However, it serves a deeper purpose.”
“What purpose?” Hettie demanded, her look fierce.
“I will say what I need to say. You won’t like it, but it’s the truth.” He gazed at each of them, his eyes meeting each in turn. “I did not fully disclose all of my plan to anyone. It is no secret that is known to three. I’ve deliberately held back pieces from each of you. Don’t expect me now to share it all either. I will say what I can. Hettie—you warned me that Kiranrao had asked you to steal the Tay al-Ard. You were part of the deception, making him think that you had stolen it. I was trying to force his move. A problem facing the dangers of the Scourgelands is that our enemies can overpower us when we stay together. The Arch-Rike marshals them against us, using the forces at his disposal to kill us and weaken us. When I learned about the blade Iddawc, and understood that its power would even kill spirit creatures, I recognized it would be a potent counterspell.”
He breathed out deeply, caressing the green fronds growing near his lap. “Kiranrao’s purpose in coming with us was to be set loose inside the Scourgelands, to help draw away from us some of the Arch-Rike’s minions. His magic attracts the notice of the spirit creatures here as if he were holding a firebrand while walking in the dark. My plan was to bring him deep into the Scourgelands and convince him that our mission failed, for I knew he would abandon us as soon as he saw the right opportunity. I even gave Annon a way to summon the device in case Kiranrao did manage to steal it from us. That was part of my plan.”