“You’ve done enough,” he whispered to her. “You did your best. Shion, take her.”
Her emotions were still reeling from the brunt of the Dryad’s thoughts. She felt Shion grip her arm and she hugged him as tightly as she did the oak, pressing her cheek against his chest, willing the pain inside her mind to stop. The feelings of futility still staggered her. The madness inside the Dryad’s mind—being perpetually trapped inside the husk of a tree, with no one to relieve her, bound for a thousand lifetimes because there was no man willing to come and be her husband and forge a daughter to take her place. The wasting sickness of the Dryad’s mind was beyond reckoning.
“Shion,” she gasped with shock. She shook her head, trying to quell her emotions.
He soothed her with a whisper, stroking her hair and leading her away from the tree.
Blue fire lit the dusk, sending a piercing glare into the woods. Phae was startled and then looked back, seeing her father standing before the tree, his arms widespread, his hands cupping lashing blue flames. His head was bowed in terrible solemnity.
“Father?” she gasped, then realized what he was going to do. He was going to burn the tree. “No!”
She tried to shove away from Shion, but he held her tightly.
“Let me go!” she demanded, struggling to free herself. His grip was like iron. He had her wrists and continued to pull her away from the tree. “Shion! No! It’s not her fault!”
The flames in Tyrus’s hands continued to build brighter as he summoned more and more power into his hands. Waves of heat emanated from his profile.
“Father, no!” Phae shrieked, twisting and jerking to free herself. Shion clasped her like iron bands, pinning her arms and hoisting her back.
Tyrus raised his arms and sent the flames blasting into the rocklike trunk.
Phae heard the scream of torture in her mind. The Dryad’s shriek joined her own and suddenly she was gibbering with madness. No, Sister! No! The memories! He’s burning the memories! No! He’ll kill me! I can’t go back to Mirrowen! I’m trapped on this side! He’ll kill me!
The thoughts made Phae go wild with despair. She tried kicking Shion, wrenching him, shoving him. He seemed to move with her like water, absorbing her efforts with almost too much ease. He didn’t hurt her, but she was powerless against him. Even her fireblood would not harm him.
“Shion, please! Please! Don’t let him do this! She can’t escape. He’s murdering her! Please!”
The flames from Tyrus’s hands burned brighter as he unleashed the raw fury of the fireblood against the Dryad tree. She watched in horror as the bark blackened and began to sizzle and burn, as streamers of fire started to race up the long shaft toward the huge, snake-like limbs.
“Please, Shion! Please!” Phae pressed her face against his chest, sobbing again. “Please!”
He’s burning me! He’s burning me! Help me, Sister! I beg you!
“Attenvost-thas!”
The words were in the Vaettir-tongue, but it was Annon who uttered them. Suddenly the flames in Tyrus’s hands surged and then vanished, and he collapsed to the ground.
Annon strode into the grove deliberately and approached the tree. He opened his hands, which also glowed blue, and began drawing the fire from the tree into himself. His face was a mask of determination and Phae wanted to hug him for saving the tree.
He looked down at Tyrus’s body. “Drag him away,” he ordered.
Shion released Phae at once and without saying a word, walked over to Tyrus’s body and hoisted him beneath his arms.
Phae stared at him in shock, trying to understand what was going on.
“Phae,” Annon said, gripping her shoulder. He gave her a small smile. “Make sure your father is unhurt. You’ve done enough.” He went back to the tree and sat against the trunk, his back to it, and bowed his head. What was he waiting for?
She hurried after Shion, who had dragged her father’s body back behind the screen of trees. Aran and Hettie were both waiting there, looking unconcerned.
Tyrus raised his head, looking up at Shion, and nodded.
Phae began to shake with fury. “What is going on?” she demanded hotly.
Tyrus rose to his feet, brushing off his hands. He reached to smooth aside some of her hair, but she knocked his hand aside.
“It is Dryad lore,” Tyrus said softly, ignoring her rude swipe. “I explained it to the others while you were distracting her. If someone threatens a Dryad’s tree, she will do anything she can to defend it. But if a person, especially a man, defends her tree, she owes him a boon. That boon is her Dryad name. With that name, she can be commanded.” He smiled slyly. “Annon is going to collect the boon from her.”