“No, I’m feeling better,” Exeres said, stalling him. “It’s starting to go down. Tell me—I was tending the wounded in the dungeons. There was a Drugaen with tide fever. Is he all right? Did he recover?”
The soldier snorted. “Oh him. He escaped, the rook. Split Nool’s head open with a shovel. Managed to spring someone else too before disappearing into the banned tunnels. A Shae, I think. It’s a maze down here. The Kiran Thall have been hunting them both, but I hadn’t heard what happened. Probably killed them, I’m guessing.”
That didn’t make sense. “Who did he spring from a cell? A Shae?”
The man shrugged. “Some Shae that was locked up down here. I didn’t even know there were any banned Shae or Drugaen down in Landmoor. Makes no sense to me. Well, if you’re feeling better, I’ll let you be. Report back to Nool when you’re ready to keep working the dungeons. Plenty more sick in there.” He wiped his gaunt mouth with a dirty hand.
Exeres shook his head. “I thought you said Nool was dead.”
The soldier laughed, his stick-thin shoulders trembling like willow branches. “You’re forgetting about the Root, priest! Luck to you, boy.” He left the room while Exeres finished eating the soup.
So Flent had escaped without his help. Well, with it, actually—since Exeres had cured his fever. He felt a little pang of jealousy, but it was only a little pang. Would he make it past the Bandit Rebellion’s army and rejoin that girl in Castun? What was her name? Ticastasy.
A tremor of worry went through him when he remembered her face. But that was strange. Why worry about her? She was safe on the other side of the Shadows Wood. Allavin Devers was a confident man. Good at looking after people. Exeres did not believe that Allavin would let any harm befall her. Unless…
Pain again.
Exeres fumbled the empty soup bowl on the floor and knuckled his temples. Something was wrong. Piercing headaches were not symptoms of tide fever, or victims recovering from it. He inhaled through his nose. There was no stench either, except that he hadn’t bathed in a while. His body was fatigued, as if he had swam across a huge lake for three days. But that was fatigue, not a wasting sickness. Biting his lip, he tried to remember what symptoms he had started to feel before getting sick. He could not remember any of it.
The more he thought about it, the sharper the pains in his skull.
The pain brought feelings of guilt and shame with it.
What have I done?
A feeling of awful blackness settled into his soul. He shrank from it, terrified from the weight of its memories. In a dark room with only a single candle, he felt alone in the world. The loneliness and abandonment rose up inside him in a wall of grief. He was forsaken by the Druids of Isherwood. Forsaken by both of his heritages, human and Shae. No one would have cared if he had died down in a dungeon below Landmoor. No one would remember his name.
Just like the woman in his…
Exeres groaned in pain and flopped on the pallet, gasping for breath. Blisters popped in his mind, wringing sobs from his chest. Nothing had ever hurt so much in his life. But he was a Druid priest! A Zerite! He pinched the flesh between his thumb and first finger, digging it hard until he felt the pressure point buried there come alive and start screaming. He focused on the pain in his hand, letting the excruciating headache subside.
Something blocked his memories. Something terrible gripped his mind and refused to let it go.
But Exeres refused to let go either.
“Where have I been?” he whispered, face down in the sweaty blanket. “What have I done?”
Warnings from the memories thundered inside his head. They would hurt too much. They would drive him mad. He had done terrible things. Forbidden things.
Prodding his memory was like picking a scab. The crust began to give way, and with it, a ripping of flesh. His whole body shuddered as he tried to remove the scab from his mind.
A woman in black robes, ancient as the sun and timeless as the moon.
The scab resisted him, but he could not let go of the fight. It hurt … like driving a nail through his own flesh. He remembered words, fragments of words in a language he did not understand. It sounded like Silvan, the tongue of the Shae. Why did she speak in Silvan? But he knew what the words meant. He knew because he was part of her now. He could understand Silvan because she understood it.
They were the last words he had heard before blacking out. Spoken in Silvan to a man…a Shae in dark blue robes. His eyes had glowed in the candlelight.
Go with the Drugaen and find the girl, the one Commander Phollen dotes on so much. She will trust him, not you. When you’ve found her, bring her to me.
Exeres rose from the bed and staggered to the door.
*
"He gave orders not to disturb him,” the Bandit soldier said, folding his arms. “I’ll tell him that you want to see him, Zerite, but later.”
Exeres leaned against the wall, trying to keep his brains from spilling out his ears. Sweat dripped down his face. He’d vomited twice making it down the hall and around the corner.