The Sleeping King (54 page)

Raina nodded. The magnificent library she'd been educated within survived mostly because it had been carefully protected from the ravages of the Empire. Come to think of it, the Mages of Alchizzadon might have had something to do with that.

The white-haired one spoke, his voice paper thin with age. “The mark of the Great Spider Zinn was given to the warriors of the Green who called home a place named Gandamere. This place, where all elves lived in the Great Circle, did the Mythar rule until he fell in battle to the Darkclaw of Ru'dath.

“A Green Lady, wreathed in the power of the woods, came to the Zinnzari, bearing hope that their king might yet be saved. She demanded that the king's guard bring his body to her. But her promise turned as grey as the storm clouds when the king was left in an enchanted slumber. Ever bound to their king, the Zinnzari promised to serve the lady so that the Mythar might one day return. In the service of Hemlocke, the Great Green Dragon, they remain to this day.”

Raina listened, enthralled. “Do your legends say anything about where he can be found?”

White Hair frowned. “The place remains in shadow but light shows through the clouds in dreams.”

“What do they say?” she prompted.

“Dreams are not like pages, little flower. There are no maps where you dare to walk.”

“Please.”

He sighed. “Under the blood of thorns, the Lords of the Boar hide their shame and glory. You seek a green place of peace and power.”

“Where is this place?” she asked eagerly.

“See what is not on the pages of your learning, little flower, and you will know the truth of it.”

“And these Boki warriors? What is their connection to the Mythar?”

The elder shrugged. “Words of old say the fates of the people of the green are entwined like the roots of a great forest. But there is much mist.”

She nodded, already lost in thought. In her experience with fairy tales and legends, they usually were built around a core of truth and then exaggerated or distorted so greatly that they ultimately bore little resemblance to the original truth. So what were the key facts of this legend that would not have changed?

A great king, known as the Mythar, had fallen in battle and not quite died. He existed now in some state between life and death, which she supposed constituted sleeping.

This business of Boki warriors guarding the Mythar worried her. Apprehension crawled across her skin at the thought of who, or what, they were. “Do you know how I can find these Boki?” she asked reluctantly.

The elder snorted. “In the shadow of blood leaves the Boki hunt their prey.”

“Will they help me find and wake the Mythar?”

Thunderous silence was her only answer. She sighed and stood up. “Well, I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I thank you for your help.” She bowed formally to White Hair.

*   *   *

Will's head buzzed and his stomach threatened rebellion as he crawled into one of the hammocks these forest elves favored. Their tobacco was strong, albeit more smooth than any leaf he'd ever tried. Not that a few stolen puffs of others' pipes back in the hollow made him an expert. His mother would've tanned his hide had she ever caught him smoking.

Head throbbing with pain, he closed his eyes in hopes of stopping the hut from spinning and was just drifting off to sleep when a small noise jerked him back to consciousness. The leather flap over his door lifted aside.

“Rosana?” he murmured.

A trill of laughter was emphatically not Rosana. He sat up fast, overbalancing the flimsy hammock, which spun around and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. The giggle became a full-blown laugh. He scowled up at what turned out to be a stunningly beautiful young woman wreathed in shadows. Her clothing appeared made entirely of leaves and foliage, and he thought he spied bits of leaves and twigs in her hair.
Not another dryad!

She bowed deeply to him. “Greetings, gifted one.”

“What can I do for you?” he asked as courteously as his dizziness, nausea, and bruised ego would allow for.

“Ask rather what I can do for you,” she half-sang.

“Why do you call me gifted?” he asked.

“You have an old spirit. This is a gift, is it not?” she asked playfully.

He got the impression she was speaking in riddles, but he couldn't even find a riddle to solve in her odd words.

“Is this the only gift you speak of?” he asked suspiciously.

She clapped her hands together joyfully as if he was terribly clever. “Of course not! You travel with another spirit who has recently received the greatest gift of all. Her true nature has, at long last, been revealed. That is a gift to you as well, is it not?”

“What female do you refer to? Speak plainly, please.”

“Why, the healer, of course.”

He rolled his eyes. “Which one? The dark-haired one or the golden-haired one?”

“The dark one.”

Rosana?
Alarm quickened his gut and he took an aggressive step forward. “What about her nature?”

“Her connection to the land, her true origin. You know. Her
nature
…”

The fae creature trailed off as if she dared not say more.

“What of her origin?” he asked.

“A wonder has been created. Like a bloom in spring, it will blossom into a marvelous flower.”

Where was Rosana from? Who were her people? What made this unearthly creature so nervous about Rosana that she would not or could not speak of it?

The dryad was speaking again. “… tree spirits are said to be older than time. Between them, they governed all living plants and formed the Great Circle. Each of the great spirits represented some specific aspect of nature—birth, growth, death, rebirth.”

She stopped as if waiting for him to acknowledge that he followed her so far. He nodded, confused at her abrupt shift of topic, and she continued, “Between them, they maintained balance in all of nature. One of them represented the destructive aspect of nature. The others, not understanding, turned on him and ousted him from their midst. Their minions destroyed him, scattering his fragments across the lands.” She spoke urgently as if trying to convey something important without speaking of it directly.

Will frowned. “What does this have to do with me?”

The strange girl stared hard at Will, her eyes drilling into him with sharp intelligence. “You tell me. Why you? I want to know.”

A chill chattered through Will as something dangerous entered her gaze. Abruptly an air of threat hung about her. He had no idea what, exactly, she was asking. Hence he had no idea how to answer her.

Just then a disturbance erupted outside, breaking the tension of the moment. Someone was shouting, and an abrupt flurry of activity erupted. The young woman spun toward the door.

“Why do you speak of this Great Circle to me?” he demanded of her.

She spoke quickly, in a whisper. “The Forest of Thorns, human boy. Stay alive long enough and journey deep enough in the forest, and you may find it. Let the tree spirit guide you.” And on that note, she slipped disconcertingly into the tree trunk beside her and disappeared.

The ruckus was so loud across the way at the council house that he could hear the gist of it from here. A young kindari took great gasping breaths in the middle of a fast-gathering crowd as he relayed urgent tidings.

 … Imperials … killing all travelers … had word a kindari village was harboring a party of outlaws … questioning everyone and taking prisoners … headed this way within the hour—

Sharp orders were barked out for the village to rouse itself and flee. Something grasped his arm of a sudden, and he whirled, his dagger in hand.

It was Sha'Li. She whispered two short sentences, but it was enough. “Boki I smell. We go now.”

Soldiers
and
Boki were hunting them? He groaned under his breath. She jerked her head to indicate that he should follow her. She waited impatiently for him to duck inside the cave to fetch his pack. He glided into the shadows with her, doing his best to match her soundless passage. She really was quite stealthy.

Will made out a thick cluster of bushes ahead. Something was wrong with them, though—a dark clump in the middle of them that was not of the bushes. “Who goes?” he breathed.

“Me,” a familiar, frightened voice whispered back.

Rosana
.

He joined her beneath the bush, and she immediately huddled close. His heart warmed. Too bad his stomach was not following suit. It felt terrible. His head ached and he felt slightly feverish, too. He made a solemn mental vow never to smoke kindari leaf again.

Sha'Li took off once more, presumably to fetch the other members of their party. While they waited, Will wrapped his arm around Rosana's shoulders and pulled her closer, whether to comfort her or himself he couldn't tell. Kindari were streaming out of the village, disappearing into the forest as quickly as he spotted them.

A twig snapped off to their right. He whirled, battle ready, brandishing his dagger and spear.

“This way,” a new shadow ordered curtly.

Cicero. And the rest of their party was with him, including Sha'Li. The kindari moved off swiftly through the trees, running along some path only he could see. The footing was smooth, their way uncluttered by deadfall. How long they raced silently through the woods Will could not say. But he was out of breath by the time the elf finally stopped. The others were panting, too.

“Are we safe?” Will murmured.

Cicero shrugged. “As safe as can be, considering that both the Boki and the Empire seem to want badly to kill us.”

Raina murmured, “Do we dare continue into Talyn? It is our known destination. Won't the governor and his men go there first looking for us? Perhaps we should skip any settlements and head directly for the Forest of Thorns.”

Will threw her a startled look. He'd expected that she and her elf would depart from the party on other travels at some point. What was
her
business in the dangerous forest?

Kendrick and Eben protested immediately, and Kendrick's voice won out. “We must go to Talyn to look for Eben's sister. The Patriarch is there and can remove Eben's slave mark, too. Besides, Anton will figure the last place we'd go is where we said we would. You heard the scout's report. The governor is calling us a band of outlaws.”

Kendrick made sense.

Rosana added, “Maybe the Patriarch can help Will, too.”

Will turned to her, suspicion exploding in his breast beneath the wood disk. Help him with what? Removing the disk? Or declaring him mentally unstable? “What orders did the High Matriarch give you?” he demanded.

She blinked, looking startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“What were your exact instructions regarding me?”

“No instructions. We were to sneak out of Heart together. No one was to know that we left.”

“And you do not think we escaped a little too easily? Why would the Heart let you come with me? To watch me? Why do they care where I go or what I do?”

“I do not know.” She added when he scowled, “Honest. I know nothing beyond what I've told you.”

One side of his brain shouted at him to trust her and not attack her like this. But the other half of his brain smelled subterfuge in her words. If she was not lying, then whoever had let them slip out of the Dupree Heart so easily and with full packs of supplies had an agenda of their own. What did the Heart want with him? Suspicion roared through him. The Heart was the Empire's pet dog.

A quick vote among the party members yielded a consensus for Talyn. Will abstained while his thoughts whirled angrily.

Cicero announced quietly, “To Talyn it is, then.”

 

CHAPTER

21

Will was impressed by the kindari's secret network of trails through the countryside. Mostly the region was parceled into farms and small steadings. Every now and then a patch of woods like the one the kindari village had been in broke up the fields and pastures. They circled wide around a few villages that reminded Will painfully of Hickory Hollow from a distance.

It rained on and off throughout the day, making their travel damp and cold. Near sunset, though, the clouds cleared somewhat and the temperature dropped sharply. Based on the sun's position, he was able to tell that Cicero led them in a generally northerly direction. But beyond that, Will was lost.

Not that he could summon the energy to care. His fever had worsened and his stomach hovered on the verge of revolt. Raina even gave him a big dose of healing magic, but it made him feel no better at all.

They headed for a wooded patch that would give them cover for the night. The scrawny trees were dank, stinking of rot, the ground spongy underfoot and the branches slick with slime. The trees were not properly thinned and trimmed to provide knot-free boards for fine furniture, and a general feeling of neglect hung about this place. It was entirely unlike the neatly tended forest about Hickory Hollow. Given their all-night march, the group had agreed to stop before full dark today to hunt for a decent meal and get a good night's rest.

Between them all, they had a respectable camp laid, a fire burning, and a stew heating over the blaze in no time. Cicero and Kendrick disappeared into the trees to set warning trip wires around their camp, collect firewood, and generally scout out the area. Eben took care of the last details of making camp.

Will, as accustomed as he was to hard outdoor work, was worn out. He felt ill and weak, and the stew did not smell the least bit appetizing. He felt better, though, when he spied even the indomitable Sha'Li drooping in fatigue. He was merely overtired. At least their exhaustion prevented them all from snapping at one another. Everyone would perk up when they got some hot food in them.

Not long after the entire party had returned to camp, Will's preternaturally sharp ears picked up a sound nearby. Or maybe he sensed a foreign presence first. But either way, he snatched up his staff and was on his feet in time to see a dryad step lightly out of trees and into the clearing. Will rolled his eyes.
Not this again.