“Keep the light shining,” Yates whispered to her.
Karigan did not awaken again until her world shifted. Yates moved and laughed, and there were other voices and enough light that she thought Blackveil must have been a dream and she was back in Sacor City in the full sun of summer. The green eyes of shadow beasts were gone, replaced by the shimmering faces of Eletians.
“They aren’t real,” she told Yates. She curled into a ball at the base of the tree, wondering vaguely how it could be that Yates was now talking to her hallucinations, unless he was a hallucination himself. Maybe nothing was real, just all in her head, and if that was the case, then the vision she’d seen of the king on his deathbed was similarly false. She smiled to herself and slipped away.
Someone tipped her head forward and pressed a bottle to her lips. She drank eagerly thinking it was just water, but it tasted of the cordial of the Eletians, of spring rain and ripening fruits. It was taken from her after just a few swallows. Were her hallucinations now taking over her other senses? Could one slake her thirst?
The clouds in her mind parted with the drinking of the cordial, and when she peeled open her eyes, she found Graelalea kneeling beside her.
“Are you real?” Karigan asked.
The Eletian tilted her head as if considering, the light of her moonstone flaring around her pearlescent armor and pale hair like a halo. On closer inspection, the armor was mud-splashed and beaded with rain, wet feathers and flaxen hair plastered against her head.
Karigan heard the patter of rain, but did not feel it. She was in a tent. She sighed in relief.
“You are real,” she said to Graelalea.
The Eletian smiled. “Yes. You were elusive, but we have found you. You should have remained in one place when we lost you.”
“But I . . .”
“I know. The poison of the thorns in your blood played tricks in your mind. We shall do our best to draw it out, but Hana was the one with the healing touch among us, and she is gone.”
“How did you find us?”
“Excellent tracking skills, and your Lynx felt the hunger of the beasts, felt their drive to hunt and that they had caught the scent of something unusual. He presumed it was you and Yates that excited them, and he was able to follow their desire.”
Karigan didn’t want to imagine what it must have felt like for Lynx to touch the minds of those creatures.
“What about Yates? Can you help him?”
“Help him see again?” Graelalea asked. “That is something beyond our power. Perhaps with time, on the other side of the wall, he would regain his vision.”
“Have you told him?”
“We have not hidden the truth from him. We shall help him navigate the forest. It is remarkable the two of you survived on your own.”
Karigan thought she detected respect in the Eletian’s voice. If so, it meant the two of them had come a long way in their relationship since the first time they met, when it seemed Graelalea held only contempt for Karigan.
“For now you must rest,” Graelalea said.
“What . . . what about my leg?” Karigan realized it did not hurt presently. In fact, she did not feel it much at all. She wiggled her toes to make sure it was still attached.
“The cordial will help with the pain,” Graelalea replied, “and for the poison, Lynx suggested leeches. They are, after all, abundant here. We examined them closely and determined they are untainted by the forest. We have attached some to your wounds. Would you care to see?”
“No!” Karigan recoiled out of reflex at the thought of the leeches, mouths attached to her flesh and sucking her blood till they became bloated. Leeches were commonly used to treat a number of maladies, but Karigan had just about had it with creatures wanting to suck her blood or eat her.
“We did consider hummingbirds,” Graelalea said.
By the time Karigan realized the Eletian had made a joke, she was gone and the tent darkened. The energizing effects of the cordial faded and heaviness descended on Karigan. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe, as safe as she could be in Blackveil Forest. Someone else could be responsible for Yates, and someone else could keep watch over camp.
She tried not to think about the leeches feeding on her blood, and allowed the dark and heaviness to help her sink into sleep.
She was awakened sometime during the night by voices raised in anger, dreams of white feathers falling like snow and a silver key shining on her palm slipping away from waking memory. It took her a moment to remember where she was. All was not dark for moonstone and firelight glowed through the canvas of her tent. Silhouetted shadows slashed across the tent wall with curt gestures.
“We have seen enough!” It was Grant, and he was the loudest. “There is no reason to go any farther.”
“You may return as you like.” Graelalea, her voice cool. “We are certainly not forcing you to continue on with us.”
Grant laughed. It sounded half-hysterical. “You say that even knowing we’d never find our way back on our own and that we would be much less safe without you.”
“You have been given the option,” Graelalea replied. “I can give you no more than that for we must proceed with our journey. We are not turning back. Not yet.”
“So you’d just abandon us?” Grant demanded.
Graelalea must have deemed the question unworthy of answer because she provided none. One of the silhouettes began to drift away.
“What is it, then, that you’re after?” This from Ard. “What in the hells is so important that you must keep going on? What are we really here for? What do you seek?”
Graelalea’s silhouette paused, the dance of flame enlarging and diminishing her shadow by turns. “You are here because your king wished it. I know little of his motives, but you are here by his choice. I, and my tiendan, we are here because our crown prince wishes it.”
“That is not much of an answer,” Ard grumbled. “Why does your crown prince want you here? I think after what we’ve been through, you owe it to us to tell us what people are dying for.”
At first Graelalea did not respond and Karigan thought perhaps she would not because she chose not to, but much to Karigan’s surprise, she said, “We have come back for those who were left behind.”
“Those who were . . .” Ard sputtered.
Karigan imagined her Sacoridian companions looking as stunned and curious as she felt.
“Who?” Lynx asked in his low rumbling voice. “Who was left behind?”
Karigan felt the tension, the suspense, right through the canvas walls around her.
“Our Sleepers,” Graelalea said.
“Your tree people?” Ard blurted.
“There is a chance,” Graelalea replied in a calm voice, “that if the grove at Castle Argenthyne still stands, we may be able to awaken the Sleepers and rescue them; bring them back to Eletia.”
“And if this grove is gone like the one in Telavalieth?”
“We believe it had more of a chance of surviving than the others. There are . . . were powers at work at the castle.”
“You fools,” Grant said. “You see what this forest is, what it does. The answer is before you. Look what happened to Porter with those hummingbirds. Monstrous things killed one of your own, too, that Hana. That’s what the forest does to anything that lives here. And as for your castle and its powers ? Look what happened to Yates’ magic. It turned on him.”
“You do not understand.” A new voice had entered the fray: Ealdaen.
“Don’t I?” Karigan imagined spittle flying from Grant’s mouth, like a rabid dog ready to attack. “But of course, you are the ancient, wise ones, aren’t you, lording it over us like we’re worms. I’m telling you that it’s time to turn back. Whatever your castle was, it’s rubble now. And your Sleepers? Their grove probably rotted to the earth long ago.”
Silence reigned when Grant’s outburst ended. Silhouettes dispersed until there was only the one she identified as Grant.
�
��What?” he shouted. “Can’t handle the truth?”
Ard murmured to him.
“Leave me alone,” Grant said. “If they can’t face me, what’re they gonna do when they reach their precious grove and find it gone?”
Karigan sighed. Grant’s tone had sounded irrational to her, but he’d made some good points. At least they finally knew exactly what the Eletians wanted in Blackveil: to rescue their people who had been peacefully Sleeping at the time of Mornhavon’s invasion.
She could not help but agree with Grant that the wisest course was to retreat from the forest, but nothing, she knew, would sway the Eletians from their task. She only hoped they were prepared for the worst when they reached Castle Argenthyne, whatever the worst might entail.
LYNX’S COUP
Karigan did not reawaken until sometime in the gray of morning when she perceived someone in the tent with her. She opened crusty eyes to discover Graelalea kneeling beside her and peering beneath the blanket at her leg.
“The leeches appear sated,” Graelalea said. “They have detached from your leg.”
The leeches! Karigan had forgotten about them, and thought it just fine she had. She rotated her foot and shifted her leg, grimacing as pain burned through her flesh.
Graelalea gazed sideways at her. “How does it feel?”
“Very sore.”
The Eletian nodded. “I am not surprised. I shall spread some evaleoren on your wounds and that should ease some of the pain. I’d make a poultice, but Hana carried our herbs.” Anything Hana had carried was gone with her. Graelalea produced a pot of the salve and spread it gently on Karigan’s leg. Immediately it calmed the pain. “Only time will tell if the work of the leeches proves efficacious. I fear, however, we haven’t the time to allow you the rest you require.”
Karigan nodded, barely withholding a sigh. She’d like nothing more than to sleep and keep off her leg, but there could be no waiting around in Blackveil, and of course she did not wish to appear weak.
“So we are going on to Castle Argenthyne,” Karigan said, feeling a strange thrill despite the circumstances, to be journeying toward a place that had, for most of her life, existed only as a fairy tale.
“The tiendan and I will resume our journey to the castle,” Graelalea said. “Your Grant and the others have been debating whether to continue with us, or to turn back.”
Grant had already acknowledged that trying to return without the Eletians to guide them was likely suicidal. Yet it did not make sense to be leading poor, blind Yates to Castle Argenthyne, or, for that matter, her with her hurt leg and unreliable visions. And they had found out the truth of what the Eletians sought in Argenthyne: the Sleepers. Had they achieved what the king asked of them, or would he want them to press on?
“We recovered your pack from your campsite,” Graelalea said. “I shall pass it in to you, but first I’d like you to take a sip of this.” She produced the cordial and Karigan eagerly took the flask to her lips. “One sip only,” Graelalea reminded her.
Karigan reluctantly returned the flask, licking her lips to ensure she didn’t miss a single drop. Graelalea crawled out of the tent, then reappeared in the opening and pushed in the pack Karigan had believed long lost.
“When you are ready,” the Eletian said, “come out and see if you wish to try some food.”
At the mention of food, Karigan’s stomach gurgled and she realized she was famished, quite a change from when she’d felt so unwell only a day ago. Was it the effect of the cordial? The leeches? She only hoped it was not temporary.
She dug through her pack looking for a change of clothes. The contents were none the worse for wear—not even damp, which was miraculous. Maybe the Eletians possessed drying magic, and a part of her did not doubt it. She was grateful to have her own supplies and her own clothes to change into. Her old pants were shredded beyond repair. She did not think even meticulous Ty would be able to mend them.
She crawled from the tent and unsteadily rose to her feet. Placing weight on her leg sent hornets buzzing in it and she winced. She steadied herself and looked around at the campsite. Lhean fletched an arrow beside the fire and gave her what looked like a genuinely friendly smile. Grant sat hunched before the fire, pushing coals around with a stick and muttering to himself. His appearance was haggard and stubble failed to conceal the hollows beneath his cheekbones. He was much diminished, looked unwell, and appeared unaware of her.
Ard paused searching through his pack for something and gave her a hard, penetrating gaze. As if remembering himself, he schooled his expression to something softer, but for some reason he didn’t look happy to see her. “Well, look who’s up and about.” He smiled, but his joviality rang false in her ears. Then again, she wasn’t herself and maybe wasn’t perceiving things right.
“Karigan?” It was Yates, also sitting by the fire, gazing in her general direction.
“Hello,” she said, and limped over to him, taking his hand.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I’ll live.”
Ard dropped his whetting stone and swore. He bent over to retrieve it and said nothing more.
Ghosting in the background was Ealdaen, probably on watch. He spared her a glance, but it was brief and indecipherable. She did not see Solan or Telagioth, but perhaps they were in the Eletian tent, or guarding another side of the perimeter.
“Good to see you up,” Lynx said, but he did not look particularly happy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He held up his tobacco pouch and sighed mournfully. “My leaf has gone bad. Moldy. And I’d been using it sparingly to make it last.”
Karigan was just glad she was not the source of his misery.
“Come sit with us,” he said, and he helped her over to a seat by the fire. “Would you like something to eat?”
“Yes.”
He fetched her a spoon and a cup of gruel from a pot on the fire. Normally the stuff was not very palatable, but this morning—afternoon?—it tasted like a feast.
“Must be doing better if you’ve an appetite,” Lynx observed.
She nodded and was permitted seconds. She knew enough to take it slowly, and sipped at intervals at the tea Lynx handed her. It had the tang of Blackveil, for they were down to collecting drinking water from the rain that fell through the leaves of the forest.
Her companions remained quiet. Yates tapped his toe to some unheard music. No one asked her about her adventures while separated from the group. Yates must have filled them in. Still, the tension was palpable. Grant hadn’t moved one bit, transfixed by the campfire.
Graelalea emerged from her tent and stood before them, hands on her hips. Ealdaen drifted closer, and Solan and Telagioth appeared from the woods.
“The day grows old,” she announced. “It is time to push on. The question is, will you be coming with us?” This she directed at Grant.
Finally he moved, gazing up at her with eyes shadowed by dark rings. Although it was not especially warm, sweat glided down the sides of his face.
“Ask him.” He nodded in Lynx’s direction. “He seems to think he’s in charge.”
Whoa! Karigan thought. Graelalea had mentioned there was a debate, not a coup. She could not imagine quiet, taciturn Lynx deciding to take charge. She glanced at Yates, who wore a tight smile on his face. She’d have to ask him later what had happened.
“I have assumed command of the Sacoridian contingent of this expedition,” Lynx confirmed. “Second in command is Karigan G’ladheon.”
Karigan almost dropped her mug of tea. Second in command? Another surprise, though it made sense. If Grant was out of favor, then certainly he wouldn’t be second, and Yates could not see, and Ard was not military or in the king’s service. That left her.
“What is your decision, then, Rider Lynx?” Graelalea asked.
“We will continue with you to Castle Argenthyne as our king would wish.”
Graelalea nodded as if there had been nothing to it.
“Suicide,” Grant muttered. “You’re gonna find ruins and death. You should forget those Sleepers.”
“We cannot,” Ealdaen said. “I cannot, and I will not. I was one of those who left them behind.”
His words hung in the air, letting them all absorb what he’d said and what it meant.
“So you were there when . . .” Karigan began.
“Yes,” he replied. His silvery eyes had taken on the aspect of cold pewter. “Yes, I was there when Mornhavon attacked. I led the retreat. I abandoned the Sleepers and . . . and the lady.” He abruptly turned away.
Laurelyn, he’d meant. The Queen of Argenthyne.
“We must break camp and make use of what light we have left to us,” Graelalea said.
Karigan wanted to help, but Lynx ordered her to rest while she could. Because Yates could offer little help, he sat with her and quietly filled her in on the so-called debate they’d had about the mission.
“The man’s not himself,” Yates said of Grant. “He’s becoming unhinged. He was planning to march back to the wall even though he didn’t know the way. He keeps going on about nythlings, too.”
“Nythlings?”
“We have no idea,” Yates said, shrugging. “Lynx says Grant’s also been favoring one of his arms like it hurts him.”
Karigan stole a glance at Grant wrestling with one of the tents and it was true—he was not using his right arm much.
“Anyway,” Yates continued, “Lynx argued that our mission was not complete until we saw Castle Argenthyne and the grove of the Sleepers. Like he said just now, the king would want as much information as we could gather. Grant said the king could go to the five hells.”
Karigan raised an eyebrow. That was not acceptable behavior for one in the service of the king and in command of a mission.
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