“’Cause I seed one, a real one, and they don’t poop in no trees.”
For a minute, Krea was silent. She didn’t know what to say. When she glanced up at Sorin, he was conspicuously quiet as well. Too quiet, and she knew he was listening. “Did you see it at the mage’s?” she asked finally, and wasn’t surprised to see Sorin cock his head back slightly to better hear them.
She felt Dane nod behind her, but he said nothing. She was glad for at least that much, though. He hadn’t muttered a word about the mage in two days. One thing was for certain, though. He was different now after spending the night in the strange little house. He was pensive and angry. Krea wasn’t so sure she liked the new Dane.
After a long silence that hung in the air like the stench of bad fish, Krea tried to get the conversation started again. “Will you teach me how to throw a sunball?”
“A rendo?” Sorin corrected.
“Krea bit back her smart remark. He hadn’t said no. “Aye. A rendo.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t.”
“Well, no, not if you don’t teach me.”
Sorin twisted in his saddle. “No. I mean, you actually can’t. A rendo is a controlled ball of Essence. You can’t control the Essence. You are kyrni. You are the Essence.” He turned back around and kicked Drindoc over a log. “It would be like trying to pick yourself up off the ground. You can’t.”
“I can,” Dane said. “You can teach me how to make a rondu.”
“A rendo,” Sorin corrected again.
“Right,” he said. “I can learn.”
Sorin was quiet for a long, tired moment, the duration of which Dane leaned around Krea to stare at the man’s back. When Sorin finally answered, he didn’t bother turning around. “No.”
“How come?” Dane leaned out farther and caught Krea’s tunic again to keep his balance. “I ain’t the Essence. I can do a rendu.”
“A rendo. Aye, you can learn, but I am not the one to teach you.”
“Well, then who is? The mage sent me with you so you can teach me.”
Sorin sighed. “A mage should teach you, not me.”
“Hmph.” Dane scooted back and mumbled, but he was a little too loud to have meant it for himself. “’Cause you don’t know nothin’. That’s why you can’t teach me.”
Krea held her breath, but Sorin didn’t comment. However, the tension in his back told her he had heard. After another eternal silence, she tried again for a distraction. “What did you mean when you said the coven wouldn’t have had to turn a leaf?”
The tension between Dane and Sorin was almost visible. Dane sat behind her in hostile silence, and Sorin focused too hard on the path ahead. His spasm of chattiness had definitely passed. When he finally answered, it was with the curt efficiency she had grown used to in the last few weeks. “All magic has a price,” he explained. “When a dria uses magic, it is drawn from the tree it lives with, and that means something on the tree must pay the price. When you see brown leaves on a spring tree, you know magic was used. When you see a tree with no leaves or dead branches, you know too much magic was used.”
“So then that hawthorn is having its leaves turned brown right now ’cause them faeries healed you last night?” Dane asked.
Sorin shook his head. “Not likely. Those were some powerful drias, and there were a lot of them. A hawthorn is a magical tree, but for one tree to house a coven of dria, her roots must have run old and deep, which is odd only this far into the forest. A tree like that doesn’t have to turn to tap the Essence. She’s like you, Krea. She is the Essence.”
Krea considered his words as they rode, silently switching from one game trail to another, from one massive tree to another, from one moss-covered rock to another. The Nayli seemed like an eternal blanket of green, and it didn’t take long before Krea knew for certain that without Sorin to guide her she would have been lost beyond hope.
In some places, the trees clumped so close together that they couldn’t squeeze through and had to back up and choose a new trail. In other places, the massive canopies of the tallest trees seemed to swallow the sky, and no other small tree dared sprout up in their majestic presence. Travel through the queens, as Krea decided to name the giants, was easier. The trees were spaced farther apart, and the thick vines and shrubs that covered the understory were thinner thanks to what Krea now knew to be the dria.
But even after riding for hours, she still gazed around in wonder at the Nayli’s beauty. The different barks of the trees crashed together in a swirl of color that Krea didn’t believe possible. Smooth white-barked trunks nearly shone compared to gnarled and rutted moss-covered trunks that stood right beside them. Some trees were brown with swirls of red and black while others were tinged more orange than any tree had a right to be. One enormous tree with a crown reaching so high Krea couldn’t see her top had strips of grayish bark dangling from her branches like fur hanging from a scruffy dog. It was one of the strangest things she had ever seen. What did that tree’s dria look like?
All the while, the curious-colored trunks and cacophony of barks were backdropped with a green so deep it felt like an enormous green cloak had been lain across the whole forest by the goddess herself.
Moisture permeated the air, thick with the scent of newly-turned soil and the odd freshness of plants and decay. But more than anything else, the Nayli lived. The forest hummed and pulsed with life and power. The steady drumming of life made Krea wonder if this was what it felt like to be inside a mother’s womb.
The thick canopy continued to hide the sun more often than not. Tracking the turn of time was challenging, to say the least, but Krea was fairly sure the sun was over its crest before Sorin called a stop. His order was none too soon, either. She had to relieve herself, and her water skin hung in gaunt protest from her saddle, nearly drained.
Dane slid down Caldir’s rump and, much the way Krea had after her first day riding, nearly fell over. She smiled, but didn’t comment. When she dropped to the ground, her new boots barely made a sound. She gazed again at the beautiful craftsmanship and smoothed her new tunic for probably the tenth time that morning. New clothing suited her. She was just about to loosen Caldir’s girth when Sorin’s yell brought her up short.
“Dane, stop!” he screamed as he ran toward the little creek. The boy was just leaning over to refill his water skin. “Don’t touch the water. Stop!”
Too late, Dane jerked his arm back, but the water in the narrow stream had already started to bubble and turn. Dane tried to scoot away, but before he moved, a dark heap rose out of the water. Krea watched the horrific scene unfold as if time had stopped moving.
The creature was hardly bigger than Dane. Spindly, long arms that reached toward him ended in stubby, webbed fingers. Fur, orange fur, dripped from the monster’s body in shaggy clumps, and a narrow strip of black hair ran down its back like a mane. A long, thin tail twitched back and forth, a knife-sharp point at its end and tiny spiked fins running up its length, but the most frightening part of the creature was its face. Above three long slits where a nose should have been were two gaping sockets instead of eyes. Its lips were peeled back in an angry snarl, revealing a maw lined with long thorn-shaped teeth, and it stared at Dane with such hatred as Krea had never seen before.
It hung in the air, as if standing on a platform made of water. A heartbeat later, the creature had its willowy arms wrapped around Dane, and they both disappeared in a splash beneath the surface of the murky stream.
Krea screamed. Sorin rushed to the edge of the creek and stared down at the water. He spun back around and started searching the small clearing, for what Krea didn’t know. She didn’t get the chance to find out because a loud crack stopped them both right where they stood.
Caldir and Drindoc both bolted out of the clearing, throwing Krea to the ground in the process. She scurried back to her feet and was running for the bank to join Sorin when a mass of rocks and boulders from the far bank star
ted plunging into the water.
“Dane!” Krea screamed again. She reached into the water. She needed to pull the boy out or he would be crushed in the landslide, but before her arms could close on her target, Sorin yanked her backward, sending her sprawling across the now muddy bank.
Another massive boulder slid down the incline and crashed into the creek. Almost immediately, the water began backing up onto the bank.
Sorin backtracked up the shallow embankment to avoid the overflowing river. Another shower of rocks and dirt nearly rained down on him, this time on the near side of the creek. Whether the falling rocks exposed the root or the exposed root dislodged the rocks, Krea couldn’t say, but amid a hailstorm of gravel and dirt, a tree root as thick as her arm peeled out of the ground and reached into the rising water.
Again, Sorin was on his feet. This time he held fast to the thick root as he slid down the muddy bank and into the water that was quickly creeping up to meet him. He reached into the murky darkness. Krea grabbed the root and slid down to help. After what felt like an eternity, Sorin pulled Dane’s arm out of the water. A gurgling screech ripped through the air as Sorin hugged Dane’s limp body to his chest and used the root and Krea to pull himself up the slippery bank.
The creature surged out of the water again, its empty eyes boring down on Sorin, its lips drawn back in seething hatred. It didn’t approach. Its head swung back and forth, taking in the damage caused by the rock fall. It leaned forward. Another screech filled the clearing, and then the monster dropped back into the water.
Sorin dragged Dane the rest of the way up the bank to dry land and laid him out on his back. The caller bent over, hand on his knees, sucking air. He didn’t argue when Krea ran to Dane’s side to see if he was still alive. When Dane didn’t move, she rolled him over on his side and slapped his back.
All at once, Dane hurled up muddy water. He sucked in a gasping breath that turned into a fit of coughing. By the time the coughing stopped, Dane was shaking so violently he couldn’t have stood had he tried.
Krea helped him to a sitting position, but stayed kneeling beside him. She didn’t know what else to do, so she patted his back and picked bits of mud and twigs out of his hair.
Dane took in the scene with a glassy expression, looked down at his trembling hands, and started to cry. Tears streamed down his muddy cheeks, and when Krea reached out to comfort him, he collapsed on her chest, sobbing into her tunic. Sorin just watched in silence.
Finally, the worst of the tears and shaking over, Dane sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve, succeeding only in adding a new smear of mud across his cheeks. “What happened?” he asked. Krea almost laughed at the odd simplicity of the question.
Sorin sucked in a deep breath and surveyed the scene. Already, the water was digging out a new path around the pile of rocks to continue on its journey back to Ryth. The bank that had once been flooded was now a mud pit of fallen rocks and overturned boulders. The root still stretched along the embankment, a giant snake basking in the sun. Now that she looked at it, Krea knew for certain that it was newly unearthed. It was too green and fresh to have been previously exposed. She followed the root back to the tree and stared up at the oak that had helped save Dane’s life.
“Those oak trees sure like you, Dane,” Krea said, prompting the boy to pat his burl, making sure it was still secure around his neck.
“No doubt,” Sorin agreed, still winded. “You were pulled under by a fuath, a river faerie.”
“It was an evil faerie!” Krea added.
Sorin shrugged. “They are not friendly, that is certain, but I don’t know that they are evil. They just are.”
Dane looked around at the mayhem. “I pulled them rocks down, didn’t I?”
Sorin nodded. “You did. I am sure that’s what saved you. That, and the help from your tree friend over there.”
“The mage told me them rocks would do what I said for them to do, but I ain’t never tried it till now. I weren’t really trying it now. I just was thinking I needed to make the water go away ’cause it was all over me and I couldn’t get no breath.”
“Well, it worked,” Sorin said. “You didn’t make the water go away exactly, but you did let that fuath know that you were not someone it wanted to take home for dinner. Not if it wanted its river intact.”
“It didn’t look that deep,” Dane commented.
“It was a pool in the creek,” Sorin explained, climbing to his feet. “I tried to warn you, but I was too late.” He started to say something else, but bit it back and began peeling off his muddy tunic. “Be sure to thank that tree, Dane.”
The boy nodded and stumbled over to the thick trunk, his expression somber and earnest.
Krea stood. She wasn’t soaked like the others, except for her sleeve and where Dane had leaned on her, but mud and dirt caked her new tunic and breeches. Again. Her boots, however, remained suspiciously clean. “The horses bolted,” she told Sorin, still trying to process Dane’s almost-death. She felt bad about leaving the horses unattended, but given the situation, she didn’t think she needed to apologize.
“I know.” He pulled off his chemise and wrung it out. “I tried to call them, but they’re ignoring me. At least, I hope they’re ignoring me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I hope they didn’t run off and get themselves killed,” he returned in a low voice. It was never good when he used that voice. Never.
Chapter 17 – Sheema
It was definitely slower going on foot. The fallen logs and erosion ruts that the horses had hopped without effort were actual obstacles now. Mosquitoes thought Dane and Sorin were easy marks, or maybe they were just drawn to their wet shirts and the sweat. Whatever it was, they spent the better part of the walk slapping at bugs that hovered around them like a cloud.
After a short time, Sorin stopped and threw his hands up in the air. “Thank the goddess!” he exclaimed, and headed off the trail toward a short, thorny bush covered in purple flowers. Krea had been hoping he had spotted the horses, but instead he muttered something to the plant, snapped off some of its branches, and brought his prize back to Dane and Krea. “Pick off the leaves and wad them up in your hands, then smear the oil over your body.”
Krea considered telling him she didn’t have any bug bites, but given his mood, she decided to keep her good fortune to herself.
The purple flowers reeked. Crushing them only made it worse. She’d smelled dead animals that didn’t stink as bad, but the plant worked miracles and the bugs steered clear of the whole group. The horses did as well, and worry set in. “Do you think they’re dead?” she finally asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
Sorin shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think I can feel them a ways ahead. I’m not sure, though.”
Dane jumped over a fallen log and jogged to catch up. “Did you know that water pulk was living in them pools?” he asked. Krea started to correct him, but decided that if a pulk did exist, that was what it must look like.
“Aye,” Sorin answered. “Well, no. I mean, a fuath can live in any stream or river, so you have to assume that any body of water is possessed by a water faerie and all nature spirits can be cranky when you threaten their home. Water spirits in particular are a dangerous, unpredictable lot.”
“Then why was you stopping where there was a pulk?” Dane demanded, not trying to hide his accusing tone.
“I just told you, Dane. Any water can have a fuath. Any tree can have a nymph. Any rock can have a frid. You must treat all nature with respect, but especially in the Nayli, you assume nothing.”
“Then how is we s’posed to get a drink?”
Sorin stopped walking and turned to Dane. “I would have cleared the stream for you, Dane. I just didn’t get there in time.”
Dane scowled. “I hate them faeries! I wish I coulda squished that pulk with a rock!”
Sorin took a deep breath and Krea could tell from the look on his face that he was choosing his word
s carefully. She didn’t blame him. The look in Dane’s eyes was frightening, especially since she knew he welded a power she wouldn’t begin to understand. “Dane,” Sorin began finally. “Can you hate a leaf for being green?”
The boy scrunched up his brows. Krea followed suit. Sorin made no sense, but he continued all the same. “Do you hate a rock for being hard? Do you hate the rain for being wet?”
“No,” Dane answered. “That would be dumb. A rock is hard ’cause that’s what it’s s’posed to be.”
Sorin nodded. “Then why would you hate a faerie for being a faerie?”
He had a point. That water spirit was just protecting its home and looking for dinner. Later, especially if they didn’t find the horses, they would be looking for dinner too, and that may mean picking fruit from a tree or digging up a root. Were they evil for digging up a root? She didn’t think so. They were just surviving. That’s all the fuath was doing. Dane wasn’t as willing to see the other side.
“Well, I wasn’t trying to hurt nothing. I just wanted some water. That pulk goed off and tried to eat me, and that ain’t right.”
“That is why you must always clear a stream before you go up to it. You need to let the water faeries know that you mean them no harm and that you will not be a good choice for dinner.”
“Well, how is you s’posed to do that?”
Krea nodded. “That’s what you did last night at the stream. You made sparkles in the air. I remember.”
“Right, but that’s not the only way to do it. Dane, you possess great magic. I am sure you know that by now. When you come to a stream, or a tree or a boulder or anything that Nordu made, you need to project your magic just a little bit to let the creatures living there know that you are not an easy target. Don’t try to hurt them; just find your core. Did the mage talk to you about your core?”
Dane nodded, but his expression became clouded and secretive almost instantly. He was clearly not supposed to discuss what the mage talked about. Sorin didn’t seem to notice. Or, more likely, he noticed and didn’t care.
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 27