“I am trying, Tyrus.” Annon rose quickly and began to pace around the circle, his brow furrowing deeply. “Khiara? Do you recall what he said?”
The Shaliah’s eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep. “He spoke about the lost blood. The forgotten blood. A persecuted race.”
“Go on,” Tyrus murmured, his eyes twinkling with excitement. The others were leaning forward as well, waiting.
“Yes!” Annon said, stopping. He pumped his fists in concentration. “He spoke about the fireblood. No one knows the name of our race. We look Aeduan, but there was once a name for our kind. It is lost now. But there were crypts, you see. Around in a circle, filled with treasures.”
“Treasure?” Kiranrao murmured inquisitively.
Khiara nodded in the darkness, the moonlight starting to reveal her face. Her eyes were wide open. “There were crypts for each of the kingdoms—”
“Yes, but the names on the crypts were of the living.” Annon stopped, his face brightening. “The one with Kenatos had the name Band-Imas on it. The current Arch-Rike, not one of those from the past. Erasmus said the Arch-Rike was masquerading. Wasn’t that the word he used?”
“Yes,” Khiara answered. “A disguise. The crypt marked Wayland had the current king’s name. Again . . . the living.”
Tyrus was deathly still.
Annon shook his head in frustration. “He’d realized a truth, Tyrus. You know how Erasmus was always making predictions. He perceived something about the Arch-Rike. There was a pattern there amidst the stone boxes that he understood. Before he could explain it to us, he died. There were serpents everywhere. Several bit him before attacking us.”
“There are serpents in the Scourgelands as well,” Tyrus said. He steepled his fingers, drawing deeply into himself. “Is that all you can remember?”
Annon began pacing again. “I’m trying . . . but we nearly died too. I had not even thought of it until now, when you said the word Poisonwell. It triggered the memory.”
“And where is this hidden temple the Arch-Rike is so secretive about?” Kiranrao asked.
“You’ve lost your treasure and so you are seeking a new one now?” Paedrin mocked.
“You test my patience, boy. I could go there and seek new information. I can get past its defenders.”
Tyrus shook his head and waved his hand. “It is probably the place the Arch-Rike expected us to flee to from Canton Vaud. Undoubtedly there is an overwhelming force awaiting us there. Your magic is strong, Kiranrao . . . I do not doubt that. Because Annon was there, we can go to the tunnels whenever we wish. I chose Boeotia because it is the one place the Arch-Rike cannot hunt for us unmolested. He is expecting us to enter the Scourgelands right away out of desperation. Our advantage lies in being unpredictable.”
“The Uddhava,” Paedrin said.
Tyrus nodded. He rose to his full height and Phae felt insignificant in his shadow. “Poisonwell is our destination. It is a strange nexus between our world and Mirrowen. The entire forest of the Scourgelands exists to thwart us. My plan is simple. We will pass the Arch-Rike’s defenses by being unpredictable. We will skirt the borders of the Scourgelands north, testing its boundaries, bringing its defenders after us. Then, with the Tay al-Ard, we will come back to the different points we have been to, causing some fires and attacking its defenders, and then come away again. The Tay al-Ard is critical because it can bring us to a place where we have been before. It will allow us to flee quickly when the beasts threaten to overpower us. By moving constantly, we will penetrate the woods at various points. The defenders will not know where we will strike next. If we focus carefully and don’t gaze at the trees, we’ll avoid the eyes of the Dryads, which will try to trick us into looking harder. That is the secret Declan began to deduce before we abandoned him. Any tree with mistletoe must be avoided at all costs.”