Aphen flinched in the face of her fury and shook her head in dismay. “I didn’t meant to put you …”
“What were you thinking?” Seersha interrupted, so angry by now she was no longer interested in hearing anything her friend had to say. “You were the one responsible for sending us on this hunt. Remember? We went because you found that stupid diary! And now you intend to go off with you sister while you send me—”
“Stop it!” Aphen snapped. “Don’t say another word, Seersha!”
The Dwarf rose and stood looking at her. “You’re right. I’ve said enough. Too much. I’m sorry. You do what you have to. But I intend to do the same, so please don’t think that any pledge you might have made on my behalf will be honored.”
She wheeled away and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.
For a moment, no one said anything. Then Aphen sighed audibly. “I went too far. I should have asked her before I said anything to Grandfather.”
“You were trying to reassure him that the Druids would help,” Arling said quietly.
“There are no more Druids,” Aphen declared, her voice hard and bitter. “The Druids are finished.”
Mirai gave her a quick glance. “Seersha’s angry, but she’ll get past it. You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s worried about the Ard Rhys, and she thinks it might already be too late to bring her back.”
“She might be right. She’s certainly right about what happened being my fault. If not for me, there would have been no expedition, and everyone who went on it and died would still be alive.”
“You didn’t decide there would be an expedition.” Arling was suddenly hugging her. “You only suggested it might be worth doing. Everyone else agreed and the Ard Rhys made the decision. Seersha is wrong to blame you.”
Mirai was on her feet. “Arling is right. I’m going after her and ask what she intends to do. If she’s going back into the Forbidding to look for Redden, Railing and I will both be going with her.”
She left quickly, leaving the sisters clasped in a tight embrace of shared sorrow in the sudden silence of their home.
Railing Ohmsford was up early that same morning, too troubled to sleep and still bitter and angry that he had been forced to leave his brother behind. He understood there had been no real choice in the matter, that if what was left of their little group hadn’t boarded Wend-A-Way and sailed off with Aphenglow and Cymrian, they would have been overrun by the Goblins and killed. He understood, as well, that there was no way back into the Forbidding, and no real chance of rescuing his brother even if there had been. He knew all this, but knowing it and accepting it were two entirely different things.
So he had let the others convince him—Seersha, in particular, because she wanted to save Khyber Elessedil every bit as much as he wanted to save Redden—that the only reasonable chance they had was to return to Arborlon, regroup, and come back again better prepared. But the sense of betrayal he felt was acute and deep, and none of the arguments he was able to muster could tamp it down.
Now, awake again before dawn and at loose ends, all he could think about was hopping aboard an airship and flying back into the Fangs.
In the hope of distracting himself, he hobbled out to the pathway fronting the residence he was sharing with Crace Coram, Skint, and Woostra. The effort it required to get there was laborious and painful, and served mostly to demonstrate how far he still had to go before would be fit enough to help anyone. Seersha had set the bones and then splinted the leg during the return trip, repairing the damage well enough that it would heal perfectly in six weeks or so. But making the short journey to the end of the walkway only served to remind him that six weeks could be a long time.