“I speak some Eldering.”
“If you meet her, I’m sure she will be delighted by your attempts. Little enough makes her smile these days. She has not joined us today, though. Let us sit and share food and drink, as allies do.”
* * *
Six of the Elders melted away wordlessly, filing out the curtained doorway. Princess Neyva bid the Mannites to sit. The benches had soil-filled indentations, covered by plush green moss. Oberin sighed with pleasure at the comfort of the living cushion. Fire strengthened earth, and Gale, the Fire Elemental, had made a welcoming home for a weary traveler, with good food and a warm, bright house.
He set the table with dense loaves of a thick bread, which revealed themselves to be made of sprouted barley when Oberin bit into one. His goblet was filled with a hearty reddish ale, pleasantly bitter. A mild goat cheese, nuts, and olives rounded out the meal. Afterward, Gale showed them globes of an orange fruit with a hard rind, which peeled off to reveal segments of juicy, sweet flesh. For the less adventurous, like Moab, there were dried apples, pears, and walnuts fried in honey.
During the meal, conversation was light and pleasant. Gale spoke of the orange fruits. He had brought the seeds from his homeland. “It was my pleasure to gift the Queen something in return for having a home, after tens of years of wandering.”
He sounded friendly. Maybe Oberin could be more direct. “Where do you come from?”
“From an island far south of the Heartland.”
“Is it close to the Vendrisi Islands, where Luca’s family lives?”
“Not too close, but of course, they’re famous sailors. I’ve known generations of them,” the King said.
“The current Prime was here only a short time ago,” Neyva added, causing Oberin to sit up. The King frowned. Hirschi closed his eyes, looking puzzled, and then looked at Oberin, obviously wanting to tell him something.
Berona put down her bread and spoke, apparently unaware that her mouth was full. “What? Here? Did Luca come with an army?”
Oberin could scarcely breathe from hope. Their small group could use reinforcements, and he’d heard Luca was a clever man. Neyva and the King exchanged glances.
“You’re rushing things,” the King said, voice tight.
“I’m sure Berona would like to see the gift he left for her,” Neyva murmured.
Berona’s cheeks colored with pleasure. “He left me a gift? I don’t even know him.”
“He knows about you. We discussed the prophecy,” Neyva said, unblinking. Oberin sensed the escalation of tension between her and the King. He hadn’t been ready to share this information. So much for speaking plainly.
They spoke of the prophecy with him. Singular. “What of the Prime’s retinue?” Oberin asked her.
“They perished. His expedition was plagued by bad luck. Only the Prime and one comrade survived. They were devastated. They left these lands,” Neyva answered.
“Turned tail and ran back to Vendrisi, most likely,” the King muttered. “They did not even bid me farewell.”
“I’ll fetch the gift,” Neyva said, giving him an odd look.
She returned with a beautiful silken bag, embroidered with a motif of golden dolphins, and laid it down in front of Berona.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Ilse said.
Berona opened the bag and cupped her hand under it to catch something. She looked surprised, then pleased. She held the object up, letting the candlelight play over it. It was a shimmering rounded object, with a lustrous, slightly uneven surface. The color resembled the moon. It took Oberin a moment to recognize it as a pearl—the largest he’d ever seen.
A soft smile lit Berona’s pretty face. “It’s beautiful. I wonder how it got so big?”
Oberin ached to kiss her again. They had broken it off, both of them shocked. Then Georsi disappeared, and she’d gone after him. The discovery of the Elders had distracted him from the memory. Now it was back, harassing him with unwanted passion.
Rheyna piped up. “Our lore says that the pearl is very useful as a tool for self-reflection. It must be meant for Berona’s contemplation.”
“Thank you for keeping this for me,” Berona said, putting the bag into her pocket. “Is there any chance he’s gone ahead to the Forest of Bones? We’ll be there ourselves soon.”
The King pushed away the rest of the food. “About that plan. Let me make a recommendation.”
* * *
It was said that those with affinity for fire were eloquent, and the King was a good example. As he warned vividly of the dangers outside his forest stronghold, Oberin could see fear settle on Berona.
The King began with the sad tale of Luca’s companions, exiled from the woods for their sin of eating the meat of a woodland creature, and then set upon and slaughtered by the Elementals. The Mannites sat aghast, Rheyna openly crying and Hirschi’s nails digging into the table.
“How do you know what happened?” Ilse asked. “Were your people there?”
“My guard and I were there, but the Vendrisi could neither see nor hear us.” Neyva said. “Eating meat is forbidden in our forest. The point the King wishes to make is that there are Elementals surrounding this place of safety, and it would take only a few to kill you all.”
“But we have the Book of First Naming,” Berona cried out. Then, remembering, she said, “Well, we had it.”
“You promised to lay aside your claim,” the King chided. “Georsi fled your company because he thought your greed would overcome you.”
Moab glowered. “Greed? Is it greed to want to live?”
“We would offer you all the protection of this mighty forest—food, drink, and shelter—while we prepare the chosen one. Berona knows so little of what awaits her.”
“What else can you tell us about the soul snares?” Oberin asked.
“None can withstand their power. Even two mighty Elders, sent to gather information, succumbed. The snares are a parasitic energy. They read their host and use any weakness to gain entrance. They do not feast only on the body but on the very essence. The snares are all part of one entity, linked by underground roots. Each time one feeds, they all become stronger. They will multiply and spread. But you and I, Berona, will learn how to burn it to the ground.”
Berona looked trustingly at the King. “That’s the best way to go about it, then?”
“You are fire. That is your strength,” Gale said.
From the King’s hesitation, Oberin guessed he was not as certain as he pretended.
It was time for Oberin to speak and test out his theory. “We know of two Mannites who returned from the Forest of Bones, though they were damaged. It can be done. All quests are ultimately a challenge of learning for the hero. You explained that the soul snares look for weakness. So isn’t the challenge here to face one’s own weakness and overcome it, rather than applying brute force?”
The King’s face was impassive, but his eyes glowed orange. “You gainsay me, whelp?”
“The Water Demon crafted this weapon to reflect her own aptitude. She is also called the Deceiver. In the Mannite spiritual tradition, we would hope to overcome her weapon of deception by rejecting the falsehoods we so wish to believe, and confronting the truth, however painful. We must engage in unsparing inner reflection. The pearl that Luca left for Berona indicates he sees matters in a similar light.”
“That is not the Elders’ belief.”
Hirschi spoke, the first words he’d said all evening. “Wisdom is not confined to the Elder Race.”
The King’s mouth turned down. Rheyna smiled anxiously at him. “I fear death awaits at least one of our company if we continue onward to the soul snares. I have had warnings in my dreams. How long would it take before you and Berona could go set the cleansing fire?”
“He said they could learn how to do it,” Ilse pointed out, earning a baleful glare from the King.
“If you set a fire, what happens to the entities being fed on by the soul snares?” Hirschi said. “
They may not all be dead.” When the King did not answer, he muttered, “Thought so.”
“How long does the soul snare take to destroy someone’s soul?” Ilse asked.
“That varies,” Gale said.
Moab leaned forward, face intent. “Does it take months? Years?”
Neyva said, “He’s still alive.”
Everyone spoke at once.
“Are you talking about Kea?”
“Was he hurt?”
“When did you see him?”
She blinked under the onslaught of questions. “You’re asking about another Mannite? An acolyte?”
“Yes,” Berona said. “His name is Kea. His closest friends are at this table.”
“Three Elementals passed my concealed scouts late this fall. They took turns carrying a young well-favored mortal, clad in the charcoal robe of a Mannite acolyte. We were curious to see what they were up to, so we followed them. We’d never seen the Elementals take a prisoner.”
“Was he bound?” Moab asked.
“No, but he looked weak. He had a wound on his head, and his eyes were closed. We followed the Elementals over the pass. They brought him into the Forest of Bones, where the soul snares hang. I thought it was unusual. They must have been Wood, to carry out a plan, rather than act impetuously.”
Oberin’s mouth set in a thin line. “We have the Demon to thank for this. She seeks to distract us, with the fate of one who is dear to this company.”
Berona shot him a quick, guilty glance. He wondered if she was regretting their kiss. He didn’t. His father, with those vague warnings. It was time for Oberin to be his own man.
“Kea is not merely a distraction,” Ilse argued. “He needs us. He needs us quickly.”
“I am an alchemist of some stature,” the King pointed out. “With Berona, the chosen one, we can create a scouring fire. Oberin could assist us.”
“But what happens to those already in the grips of the soul snares when the scouring fire comes?” Ilse was the one who asked this time.
The King seized his goblet and gulped down the rest of his ale. “I find I am weary. Let us retire for the night.”
* * *
They had the pleasure of separate chambers that night. The King’s house was honeycombed with them, cozy well-lit rooms just big enough for a small stone sleeping shelf with a comfortable plush moss bed. Oberin wondered who those rooms had been created for. Surely the Elders did not have many visitors. They’d never gotten along with the Kijari, the little mountain men, and they’d withdrawn from humans as well.
The rooms afforded privacy, something important to those with metal resonance. Oberin had had enough of the smacking, lingering kisses between Rheyna and Moab, who clung to each other as if there was nothing else in the world. If he and Berona became a couple? Why, they would concern themselves with the pursuit of knowledge and the imposition of justice and equality. Oberin had noted the social gulf that lay between him and men like Biruac. Biruac might be the son of a scratch farmer, but in a noble enterprise like the Society of Mannites, such things should not matter. Shandon had shared his opinion.
Shandon. He missed the diffident Master of the Scrolls. He understood Ilse and Moab’s concern. Who would want to lose a comrade to the soul snare? It made death by battle look easy.
As if summoned by his words, Ilse stood framed in the doorway. “I’m here.”
Ah, yes. He and his father had agreed on a renewed sending tonight, to exchange further news. Ilse remembered.
“I don’t think the King would like a sending done in his house,” he explained, hoping to avoid another discussion about Berona.
Ilse gave him a skeptical look before walking past his bed to the window and stretching as she looked outside. “We’re not doing enough to save Kea,” she said abruptly.
“What would you suggest?”
“We should press on. I’m sure he’s dying. He won’t find the red door after the snare is done with him. His soul will be gone.”
“It’s late. We can discuss it tomorrow.”
She turned around. In the moonlight, Oberin saw she was older than he’d thought. Almost thirty, he judged. Older than him, perhaps.
“The Elders took the Book of First Naming. Do you have no objection?” she asked.
He found himself defending the King. “The story of the Elemental attack on Luca’s company was gruesome. Small wonder he wants to be prepared.”
“Those were mortals that died. Not Elders. They’ve stayed safe in their special forest.”
He gave her no answer. He wanted to return to his fantasy about Berona, the one he’d been contemplating before Ilse’s arrival. Berona wasn’t only beautiful. She had a pure heart. Her lack of guile, her evident affection for the company, her vitality—those were all things that touched him.
Ilse gave him a disgusted look. “Are you waiting for Berona to set our course? Because the Fire Elemental has her ear. She’s delighted by this alliance. But Moab and I agree that King Gale cares nothing for us. Or Kea.”
Like those who had water resonance, metal types sometimes found themselves at a loss for words. This was one of those times. Ilse was a good person, but he had nothing to offer her. No course of action was clear. All sides, all opinions, seemed equivalent.
“Goodnight,” he said.
* * *
It felt like he had barely slept before a scent woke him. It was subtle, dry and spicy, like leaves burning in the fall. The night was cloudy and his chamber dark. Oberin did not need to see, though, to know someone was in his room. He sat up, hands groping for his sword.
“I come with news.” It was Neyva’s voice.
He couldn’t tell from her tone if there was cause for alarm. But she was in his room. That was unusual enough. He reached for his sweat-stained tunic, wrinkling his nose. They’d bathed tonight but put off the washing. “Is it after midnight?”
“The early hours of the morning. If we leave now, we’ll catch up with them.”
A bad feeling sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. He pulled on his hose and tunic and slung his long sword over his back, reassured by the satisfying weight. “Catch up with whom?”
“Moab and Ilse left. She found the Book of First Naming and stole it.”
“I don’t think Berona will agree to drag them back here.”
“That was not my meaning. I have supplies enough to reach the soul snares. I can show you the best route out of our wood, and we can be on our way.”
Oberin hadn’t seen this coming, despite the fact that she’d been so revealing during dinner. “You’re willing to join us?”
“Yes.” A short pause while he pulled on his boots. As he got up to rouse the others, he felt a light touch. “I need something from you in return, though.”
“I can’t speak for the company.”
Her hand moved to his cheek—a cool, clinical touch. “This does not concern the company. It’s an agreement between us.”
* * *
Oberin went to Berona’s chamber while Neyva woke Kilgad and Hirschi in the room they shared. Dry grief seized his throat as he glimpsed Berona’s shadowy form curled up on the bed. His wish could never come true now. He could scarcely bear to look at her.
Great Krossos. What have I just promised? This is madness.
There was no time for such thoughts. He forced his voice to stay calm. “Berona, we must leave now. Once the King awakens, he’ll realize what’s happened.” Quickly he explained about Ilse’s theft as Berona tried to find her clothes in the darkness.
There was a clank as she located her sword. “Krossos. That was loud. Don’t you have a light?”
“No chance to get one.”
“I promised not to take the Book,” she said.
“You didn’t. Kea’s friends did.”
“I’m Kea’s closest friend. Despite…well, whatever happened between you and me…”
He cut her off. There was no chance of that now. Best not to dwell on it. “Then be glad w
e are underway, with the help of the Princess.”
They crept into the hall where Kilgad and Hirschi stood hidden in the shadows, along with Neyva.
“Where’s Rheyna?” Kilgad whispered. Oberin had tapped on her door and spoke to her, telling her only to get dressed and meet him in the hall.
“She must have fallen back asleep. She’s exhausted,” Oberin said. He hadn’t tried to wake her again. Moab must not have told her he was going. That made his wishes plain.
Berona frowned. “We can’t leave her behind.”
“Would that be so bad?” Oberin asked.
No one answered, not even Berona. They were all thinking the same thing. A woman growing heavy with child, slowing them down.
Oberin hoped the Elder Race would take good care of Rheyna and her unborn child.
CHAPTER 51
Berona
It was dawn when we caught up with them, out of breath and panicked, too frightened to call out. Only Moab looked guilty. Ilse looked defiant.
“How dare you?” I scolded. “I was trying to get them on our side.”
Ilse didn’t seem impressed by my outburst. She looked at the Princess, who rode a beast that resembled a massive stag, complete with horns. Then she turned to me. “Gale didn’t tell us about Luca’s men. Neyva did. I don’t trust him.”
“Even so, you made me look bad.”
“You think you love Kea, but you don’t understand.”
That stopped me. Perhaps she was right. I did love him, but not enough to sacrifice the fate of Trea—maybe even the world.
I took a gulp of water before continuing in a softer tone. “We only have Luca to rely on now, if that. He never wrote again after warning us. I’m not sure what caused him to come here.”
Hirschi blinked. “I remembered last night. He did write another letter. It was very long. I put it down, meaning to answer it. It’s still in my chamber at Yassin.”
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