The Wandering War--The Sleeping King Trilogy, Book 3

by Cindy Dees

  Everyone was staring at her now, and she glared back, her white Tribe of the Moon mark standing out nearly as brightly as her eyes against her black scales. “I have something. A knife. I took it from Kerryl Moonrunner.”

  A hubbub erupted at this announcement, Kendrick exclaiming in surprise, Nerra exclaiming at the Moonrunner name, Rosana expressing shock that she’d stolen Kerryl’s knife, and Will demanding to know how she’d managed it.

  Sha’Li lifted her hands for silence.

  Since when had she become so self-assured? Will fell silent along with the others, watching her rummage in her pack. She came up with a long dagger bearing a curved, wicked-looking blade.

  “That’s Kerryl’s!” Kendrick exclaimed.

  “You stole it from him?” Will demanded. “How? When?”

  “The first night he and Kendrick camped with us. When Vesper attacked them. We came back to camp and both of them were unconscious. Remember?”

  Nods all around.

  “While you all fussed over Kendrick and Kerryl, I gathered their gear and laid out their bedrolls. That was when I went through Kerryl’s bag and found the knife.”

  “But why did you take it?” Eben asked.

  Sha’Li hesitated for a moment and then looked her old friend directly in the eyes. “Because sometimes doing the right thing requires a good person to do a thing that looks wrong to others. Kerryl had to be stopped from unnaturally separating the dryads from their trees.”

  Rosana piped up. “Yes, but how can that dagger save Nerra and her tree?”

  Sha’Li looked over at Kendrick expectantly.

  He answered, “Kerryl said it was a special blade enchanted to sever the link between a dryad and her tree. He used it to set any number of dryads free from their groves in the Thornwold. He was planning to do the same in the Sorrow Wold but ran into a hunter who nearly killed him before Kerryl could set his plan in motion.”

  “The one we chased off?” Rynn asked.

  “Aye,” Kendrick answered.

  “Let me see it,” the dark satyr demanded.

  He bent down over the blade Sha’Li held out, but then drew back sharply. “Fae bane,” he growled.

  “What’s that?” Rosana asked.

  None of the dryads or satyrs seemed inclined to answer, and Rynn finally explained, “It’s an infused iron particularly harmful to the flesh of fae-based creatures. As I understand it, fae bane only comes from the fae home world.” The paxan turned to Kendrick. “I gather, then, that Kerryl learned how to activate fae bane’s magical qualities?”

  “He did.” Kendrick elaborated, “Because of its lethal nature, most fae bane is rendered inert by the fae when it is found. It must be awoken before it becomes dangerous.”

  “And yon blade is awake?” Will asked.

  “Oh yes,” the dark satyr answered. “Most definitely. It’s as thirsty for green blood as any fae bane I’ve ever felt.”

  Nerra interjected, “Wait. You say that blade will sever my link to my tree? Won’t I die anyway?”

  Kendrick shook his head. “I saw him set free at least a half dozen dryads. They all retained their ability to tree walk into particularly old and strong trees. They were also able to pass freely beyond their groves anywhere in the Thornwold. I do not know if any of them traveled farther afield than that or could have if they wished. We didn’t stick around long enough to find out. When Anton’s mercenaries invaded and attacked the Boki, we left for our safety.”

  That fierce and bloody battle had nearly overrun Will and his friends. They’d narrowly escaped with their lives.

  Drest snorted. “I don’t like it. Trying yon blade’s magic is not worth the risk to your life, my love.”

  The dryad smiled sweetly at the angry satyr, laying a green hand softly on his cheek. “My dear, if we can wake the Mythar and restore the Great Circle, think what it would mean to all of our kind.”

  “The Wychwold will still die,” he declared.

  Will blinked. “Wait. What?”

  The satyr glared across the fire at him. “The life force within the Mythar’s bow sustains this entire forest. Why else do you think it is so healthy and verdant? The Drifts of the Thirst encroach from the north, foresters encroach from the south, the salt water of Estarra encroaches from the east, and the heart of Haelos barely beats beneath our feet. The only thing keeping these lands alive is the spirit of the Sleeping King. Take that away and all of this dies.”

  Will was stunned. They were talking about only a tiny piece of Gawaine’s spirit, thousands of years old, trapped in the bow. Yet it could still sustain this entire, vast forest?

  “Is this true?” Will asked the dryad.

  “It is,” she answered soberly. “But,” she added more brightly, “if you wake the Mythar, he can heal the entire continent.”

  A big if. Did they dare risk this entire forest, all the creatures living in it, and all the humanoids depending upon it by removing the shard of Gawaine’s spirit? Although truth be told, all of that was at risk anyway. If they failed in their quest or if the Empire got wind of their quest, the bow would not matter. Maximillian and the Kothites would lay waste to this land and everyone in it.

  “What say the rest of you?” he asked his friends.

  Rynn was first to answer. “It’s worth a try to sever Nerra’s connection to her tree. If that works, we can proceed with removing the bow. Plus, the forest will not die overnight. It will take some time to weaken and wither. We’ve got a window in which to attempt to wake the Sleeping King. If we fail, we can always bring the bow back here.”

  Assuming whatever ritual they tried to wake Gawaine didn’t destroy the bow. But as a magic user, he kept that observation to himself.

  His other friends nodded in agreement.

  Will turned to Nerra and Drest. “What say you?”

  Nerra looked at her lover. “I could travel the forest runs with you. You could show me all your favorite places.”

  “And you would not have the safety of your grove to protect you,” he growled.

  “I have you for that,” she purred, petting his muscular arms and back.

  The satyr scowled, but Will sensed that the fellow’s argument was lost. He sympathized with Drest. He never could say no to Rosana when she really wanted something either.

  Will turned to Sha’Li. “Very well, then. Let’s give this knife a try. Anyone know how to use it?”

  “I do,” Kendrick answered reluctantly. He held out his hand, and Sha’Li laid the blade into it.

  For a moment, Will fancied he saw a pale, silvery glow about the lizardman girl’s hand as she released the blade. He blinked and looked again, but the glow was gone. However, her tribe mark was definitely glowing. She was easy to underestimate, lurking quietly in the background, not saying much about her skills, rarely airing her opinions or thoughts. A natural-born rogue. And what little he knew of the Tribe of the Moon suggested there was much more to the secret group than met the eye.

  Kendrick stepped up to Nerra’s tree, a magnificent rowan. “Ready?” he asked the dryad.

  The satyr wrapped his powerful arms around her protectively, and she huddled in her lover’s embrace. She nodded to Kendrick.

  Will watched with interest as Kendrick slashed the tree with the blade, a cut traveling all the way around the tree, girdling it. Clear sap welled up, and Nerra cried out in pain. She would have fallen had not Drest been holding her.

  “Give me your hand,” Kendrick said grimly to her.

  She held out a trembling palm, and Kendrick slashed the blade across it as well. An upwelling of green blood darkened her flesh, and she cried out again, this time a keening wail of pain and loss.

  Kendrick flung the blade to the ground in distaste. Grief and pain resonated in his voice as he mumbled, “It is done.”

  * * *

  Raina woke to a touch on her shoulder. It was Lakanos. She rolled out of the impossibly comfortable pile of cushions and soft-furred throws in which she’d slept.
/>
  “I’m sorry to wake you. It goes against my training to let you drive yourself so hard, Emissary. But I defer to the urgency of your quest.”

  “Thank you for worrying about me. That means more to me than you can know.” Precious few people in her life had actually given a care for her wishes or well-being. She’d been born a pawn and used as one for much of her life. At least until she’d run away from home and taken control of her own destiny.

  A small, wiry woman stepped forward. “I am Hatma, a scout and hunter among the Veils. Where do you wish to go, daughter of Tyrel?”

  “I’m looking for a woman I’ve heard might live in the Thirst. She’s said to be a shaman of some kind. Claims to be from an ancient tribe of elves known as zinnzari. She might have some sort of spider markings or tattoos on her skin.”

  “Zinnzari? As in Zinn, the Great Spider?” Hatma asked.

  “The very same,” Raina affirmed.

  Hatma frowned. “I have traveled the four corners of this desert, and only one person do I know who might fit the description you give.”

  “Can you take us to her?” Raina asked eagerly.

  “We must go west, then,” Hatma declared.

  Raina estimated that they’d walked to midmorning when Hatma declared a halt for the day. The tiny woman showed them how to set up the oiled tarps the Veils had given each of them as one-person tents, and then to partially collapse a dune face over the tents to bury them and keep them cool. Sweaty and aching when she finally crawled into her tomb-like shelter, Raina was surprised to find it noticeably cooler than the outside air.

  Soon. She could feel herself getting close to the zinnzari. Close to Gawaine himself. The ring on her finger tugged her onward with increasing urgency.

  She pulled the flap across the opening and fell into exhausted slumber.

  The grove was as cool and green and the desert around her was hot, dry, and lifeless. She smiled joyfully as she looked around for him.

  There he was. Across the grove, turning toward her, a smile on his impossibly handsome face. He reached her, lifting her hand to kiss it before drawing her into his arms for a long hug. He was taller than she, and the top of her head barely reached his muscular shoulder.

  “I’ve missed you,” she murmured against Gawaine’s chest.

  “And I you.”

  “Did you call me to your grove this time, or did I dream my way here?”

  He set her away from him but did not let go of her hand. He led her to a pair of bentwood chairs beneath the spreading boughs of a fragrant apple tree perpetually in bloom while songbirds serenaded them from its branchs.

  “My, this must be serious if you’re bringing me to my favorite spot to talk,” she teased. Except a frisson of worry did chatter across the back of her neck.

  “I did, in fact, summon you here, Raina. Please. Sit.”

  She sank onto the edge of one of the cushioned seats. “What’s wrong?”

  “Events are accelerating here in the dream realm.”

  “How so?”

  “Forces that would see me destroyed are on the move, gathering their strength for some kind of strike.”

  Alarm speared through her. He was only an echo of himself and trapped in this place, easy prey for any who wished to attack him.

  “What forces?” she asked, although she feared she knew the answer. Vesper.

  “An army of phantasms has been assembled, and a dangerous woman in the guise of a child leads it.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen her. She recently stole back a piece of her spirit from a friend of mine. Her name is Vesper.”

  “Her true name is Avilla. She has taken the moniker Vesper so others will not use her true name against her.”

  Raina remembered him speaking once long ago about the power of true names. She knew nothing of such magics but did not question his assertion.

  Gawaine continued, “If she has, indeed, regained a portion of her spirit, that would explain why she’s suddenly so powerful.”

  “What can I do to protect you?” she asked.

  “Time grows short for you and your friends to find my physical remains and restore me to my body. Apparently, Vesper seeks my body to possess it for herself.”

  “Why is she so interested in you all of a sudden?”

  “The lure of inhabiting an immortal body must be great for her.”

  “You are immortal?”

  “Obviously not entirely, or I would not have spent the past several thousand years in this place.”

  “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question.”

  “No apologies necessary,” he said mildly.

  They were silent for a time while the birds sang their hearts out overhead.

  At length, Raina said, “I’m searching for a zinnzari shaman in hopes that she can tell me where your body lies.”

  “The zinnzari may be reluctant to help you. They vowed to protect me to the end, and if they think your attempt to wake me might fail, they will block you from trying.”

  “What if I show them your ring and crown?”

  He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “I expect they would take them from you. And that could be a problem because then Hemlocke might sense my regalia and seize both ring and crown from them.”

  “Why doesn’t Hemlocke want you to wake?” she asked curiously.

  “Dragons generally have complicated motives. In her case, Hemlocke is bound by her vow to Acadia to protect me. But Hemlocke also considers herself the ultimate protector of Haelos, a role she’s unlikely to want to relinquish to me. And, of course, there’s an element of sibling rivalry to our relationship.”

  “Siblings? Your sister is a dragon?” Raina exclaimed.

  “Not by birth. I’m entirely an elf. But Acadia raised both of us as her own children. We did grow up side by side.”

  “What’s that like? Growing up with a dragon?”

  Gawaine laughed a little. “One learns to be nimble when a dragon is learning to control her fire breath.”

  She shook her head, unable to imagine growing up with a dragon. “So we must find a way to convince the zinnzari we can successfully wake you. That shouldn’t be too hard to do once we have all of your regalia.”

  “Mmm. Therein lies the rub. I do not know if you will have time to find many more pieces of it before Vesper finds my body.”

  “But if we do not have the whole set, we risk losing you if we try to wake you.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How will we know when we have enough parts of your regalia assembled?” she asked in sharp alarm.

  He shrugged. “You will have to use your best judgment.”

  “If we fail, we’ll kill you!”

  “I’m already dead. I made my peace with that a very long time ago.”

  “Speak for yourself. I haven’t made peace with that idea at all, and I don’t plan to!”

  He smiled gently. “Sometimes I forget how passionately you humans live your lives.”

  “This isn’t about being human. It’s about needing you!” She broke off, unwilling to elaborate on whether it was she personally who needed him, or whether she spoke in the broader sense of the people and land of Haelos needing him.

  He snagged her fingers with his, sitting in silence like that for several long minutes. “If I knew that I could come back to my body and spend the remainder of a normal life span in your company, I would be satisfied with that and think it a life well lived.”

  She was staggered. It was the first time he’d ever mentioned wanting to be with her for the long term once he woke. He was a king and would have a great nation to restore. And she was just a commoner healer.

  He rose to his feet and lifted her to hers, as well. As if he’d picked her doubtful thoughts straight from her mind, he said, “There is much more to you than even you know. Now is not the time to reveal all, but one day you will correctly see yourself as my equal.”

  She snorted inelegantly and sent Gawaine into peals of laughter. She tried to gla
re at him, but could not stay annoyed in the face of his amusement.

  “While I’m here,” she said, “I have a problem. Perhaps you can help.”

  He sobered immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  “I went to visit the Mages of Alchizzadon a few weeks ago—”

  “Are you mad? They cannot be trusted, particularly where you’re concerned.” It was the first time she’d heard Gawaine actually sound angry.

  “They promised to behave,” she tried.

  “And they broke their promise, didn’t they?”

  She looked away from his accusing stare. “A few of them did.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She winced as he sounded every inch an irritated king who would brook no evasions or glossing over of the facts in the case before him for judgment. She answered, “It turns out there are sharply divided factions with the mages. One faction, more extreme than the others, thought it would be a good idea to perform a ritual on me.”

  “What sort of ritual?” His voice had gone flat now. Cold. Which was infinitely more alarming than his irritation.

  She reluctantly admitted, “They tried to bottle my spirit.”

  “What?” he exploded. “That would have killed you permanently!”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said soothingly.

  “I’ll destroy them—”

  She interrupted. “It wasn’t all of them. Just a small faction. In fact, two of the other mages rescued me, along with Cicero and a Royal Order of the Sun knight who was a prisoner of the order.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked curtly.

  “Not entirely. There was a backlash—”

  Gawaine’s hands gripped her shoulders, and a wave of incredibly powerful magic rushed through her. She guessed it might be nature magic, and it felt like some sort of enhanced diagnostic spell to assess her for injuries.

  Wordlessly, jaw clenched, he turned her loose and spun on his heel to stalk away from her. He took two full laps around the grove before he finally came to a halt in front of her once more. He wore a resigned expression. “You’d better wake me up soon so I can stop you from taking foolish risks like that again.”

  She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I’ll take whatever risks I deem necessary to properly do my job as a White Heart emissary.”