Dryad-Born(127)

Tyrus walked closer, motioning for Phae to approach. He loomed larger than a giant, though with a slight limp in his step. “You are fooling with emotions you know little about,” he said with clenched teeth.

“What?” Annon said, staring in confusion.

“The Dryad,” Tyrus said with a hoarse whisper. “There is a reason why the Druidecht do not teach this lore to the young ones. You are too young for this, Annon.”

“Too young for what?”

“To be trifling with such powerful feelings. You know where we are going. You know the task at hand. I need your mind sharp as a dagger’s blade. I need your heart as hard as stone. You will not survive the terrors of the Scourgelands if you are feeling desolate about a pretty young girl. When this is over, if we survive, that is the time to court such feelings. They will only distract you from the purpose at hand.”

A hot flush of shame came across Annon’s cheeks at the scolding. He saw Phae wince for him, her eyes full of anger at her father’s words. His body shook with suppressed feelings.

“I am not a stripling from Wayland,” Annon said, grinding his teeth. “I am a Druidecht.”

“Then act like one,” Tyrus replied. “Master yourself. You must clear your head of misty-eyed thoughts. We have a duty at hand. I do not know how many of us will even survive it. It is for your good that I speak plainly.”

Annon took a shuddering deep breath. In the past, he would have bristled at such a reproach. But he knew Tyrus had sacrificed so much himself. He could respect that, despite the sting of the accusation. “I will do as you say. How did you find us?”

“The same way Prince Aran found her to begin with. The necklace she wears brought me straight here. Were you successful? Did you find Basilides?”

Though Annon’s heart was still chafing, he was determined to keep his composure. “We did, though Erasmus perished. There is a chamber in the center of Basilides, a doorway to the Scourgelands. This torc I wear will help keep beasts away from me when I activate it.”

A pleased smile came over Tyrus’s mouth. “That will be very helpful. It may save your life more than once against the enemies we face. What of the secret lair? What was it like? Was there an oracle?”

“Not as I was expecting,” Annon replied. “There were tombs—sarcophagi—one for each kingdom. Erasmus noticed a pattern. He deduced something inherent about the format, but the room was infested with serpents and he was bitten and died before he could reveal what he knew. I can tell you what he said, though. I remember it perfectly.”

Tyrus held up his hand. “Hold that knowledge.” He glanced suspiciously at the woods around them. “You survived the ordeal. I’m proud of you. Nizeera and Khiara made it as well? Without Khiara, we cannot succeed. We need a Shaliah to heal us.”

“They are both over there.” He looked at Phae. “They are with the Kishion you converted to our cause. And a Rike of Kenatos named Lukias who has also joined us.”

The look on Tyrus’s face filled with dread. “Who?”

“He is a Provost-Rike…”

“I know who he is,” Tyrus said. “What I cannot understand is how he is with you. He is here, now?”

“Over there. The Kishion does not trust him either.”

“Yet you did?”

Annon choked back a retort before he accused his uncle of trusting the Arch-Rike’s personal bodyguard. “He guided us to Basilides, Tyrus. He even betrayed the Arch-Rike to free us from the trap. The Arch-Rike himself came hunting us there with at least fifty soldiers. They were on our heels but it was Lukias’s knowledge of the Tay al-Ard device in Basilides that helped us escape capture. I do not trust him fully, Tyrus. I have not trusted him with the knowledge you gave me. If you would send him away, do so. However, you should know that a Shaliah recovered him from death. His time with us will be limited. Perhaps you should speak to him first.”

“I intend to,” Tyrus replied. “Where is he?”

“This way.”

Annon led them past the ring of trees and warned Nizeera that they were coming. He felt her impatience and could sense she was pacing the woods, uneasy by the storm of emotions Annon was feeling.

Khiara was leaning back against a tree, her shoulders slumped with fatigue. Lukias was also seated, but he rose when they approached, crackling through the foliage to arrive. The Kishion was already standing, keeping an eye on their prisoner.

“Lukias,” Tyrus said curtly, his eyes narrowing.

The Rike brushed his arms boldly, meeting Tyrus’s distrustful gaze with one of his own. “Tyrus.” He folded his arms. “Are you going to slay me now or let the Kishion do it?”