She still could not believe that the Druid order was decimated. Bombax, Pleysia, and Carrick—all dead. Perhaps the Ard Rhys was dead, too. Of the rest, there was no better news. Almost all of them were dead, as well. It still seemed impossible, three days after finding the handful of survivors and hearing their stories. She could not find a way to make it seem real; she could not come to terms with the enormity of its truth.
But even that paled when her thoughts shifted to what lay ahead. The future she faced was darker and harsher still. The Forbidding was coming down; the demons were breaking out. The Straken Lord—a creature that history had consigned to the past—was alive and well and seeking revenge not only against the Four Lands and its people, but against a woman who was a hundred years gone. The demon was determined to find Grianne Ohmsford and bring her to its bed, to make her its wife and the mother of its child—an image that even now caused Aphen to shudder.
Then, too, there was the matter of finding the Bloodfire, of carrying the seed of the dying Ellcrys to its source, immersing the seed and then returning it so that the tree could be reborn and the magic that protected them all could be restored. Arling’s fate, her sister’s destiny, bequeathed to her by the magical creature she served as a Chosen, was to become the tree’s successor by accepting responsibility for all of this and seeing that it came to pass.
Arling, who was so young and so afraid and so unwilling to be the One.
Arling, who now depended on Aphen to find a way to save her.
She glanced over at her sister’s bed and found it empty. Arling had already gone to begin her day of service to the tree. It was after sunrise, so she would be down in the Gardens of Life with the other Chosen, having welcomed the Ellcrys to the new day and begun her work as its caretaker and provider.
Aphen rolled over and faced the wall. Mirai Leah and Seersha were likely still asleep in the other bedroom. Skint, Crace Coram, and Railing Ohmsford shared guest quarters elsewhere with Woostra in a house Arling had found for them. Cymrian could be anywhere, probably outside her cottage somewhere, keeping watch. Did he ever sleep?
The Ard Rhys and Redden Ohmsford were still inside the Forbidding. Oriantha was still there, as well, hunting for them.
Farshaun Req and the Rover Austrum had returned to Bakrabru.
All the others were dead and gone.
She kept coming back to it. How many had there been? How many were lost? She tried counting the Trolls of the Druid Guard and could not seem to remember how many had gone with the Ard Rhys. She had never been told the number of Rovers. Then there was the Speakman, three Druids—four, counting Bombax—along with those Trolls who had died at Paranor …
She trailed off abruptly, awash in anger and dismay. What was this getting her? Thinking of the dead did nothing to help the living. Thinking of the dead was self-indulgent and pointless.
She rose, threw on her robe, then slipped from the bedroom. Once downstairs, she disdained tea for a glass of ale and carried it outside onto the porch where she sat with it and looked out on the new day. It was early still, and the cottages nearest hers were quiet. One or two Elves passed by on the roadway, but none of them turned to look or tried to speak to her. She was a ghost, she thought. She was a wraith come out of the night, and perhaps they thought she should go back into it again. Perhaps they wished her gone forever. Or perhaps they no longer even knew who she was.
Perhaps she didn’t know, either.
She finished the glass of ale and sat there, thinking through what she must do next. It was clear enough. She would go with Arling to see their grandfather and Uncle Ellich and tell them what was happening to the Forbidding. She would warn them, and together they would try to find a way to prevent the inevitable from coming to pass. She would have done so immediately on her return, but Arling had insisted that she sleep first, that she rest and then clean herself up before going to the King. How she presented herself would count for something with the old man. Going as she was might give him a heart attack.
So she had reluctantly agreed, seeing the wisdom in her sister’s suggestion, noting as she did that there was something changed about Arling, something fundamental and compelling.