Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) (36 page)

Reeder licked his lips, keeping his voice low, “Now for the Boeotians’ purpose. The Boeotians are not coming into Silvandom to harvest firewood. They hunt the Dryads and destroy their trees. How do they know of them? How do they know which trees to
cut down?” He gave a big shrug. “This is Druidecht lore, and we do not share it. But they have a way to know which tree belongs to a Dryad. And they come to hew it down with axes and then burn it.”

A chill went down Annon’s spine. As Reeder spoke, a memory stirred to life in his mind. A twisted, aging oak in the courtyard within the Paracelsus Towers. An old, desiccated tree. Unusually placed in such a vast throng of humanity.

Annon swallowed, his stomach fluttering with the memory and its implications. “Is there a certain kind of tree the Dryads choose, Reeder?” He felt he already knew the answer. But it was confirmed from Reeder’s lips.

“The oak, my boy. The mighty oak is their home.”

The hour was late, and Erasmus continued to quietly snore on the stack of blankets in the corner of the pavilion. Annon waved away another offer to fill his cup with wine. His head throbbed dully and his stomach was queasy with information and the lateness of the hour. Reeder finished off his cup with a mighty swallow and wiped his mouth with his arm.

“Thank you for trusting me with all that has happened to you,” Reeder said, for Annon had changed his mind about revealing all to his mentor. He shook his head in disbelief. “You are caught in a snare, to be sure. The more you wriggle, the tighter the noose.”

“But what should I do?” Annon said, trying to quell the evil feeling. “Should I believe what Drosta told me? What my uncle told me? What the Arch-Rike believes? What the order has trained me to believe? My mind is tangled in knots right now! I do not know which to unravel first.”

Reeder held up his hand, shaking his head. “Lad, it comes down to who is telling the truth. That is the state of the matter. Truth is knowledge. Things are or they are not. You and I are here. We are sitting and sharing wine in Canton Vaud. One may say you are in Havenrook. One may say you are in Alkire. One may say you still hide in Kenatos, but that is not the truth. You are here.” He leaned forward. “The trouble with truth is that people are unwilling to be convinced that they have been deceived. It impugns their judgment. It stains their character. People love themselves above all.”

Reeder sighed deeply, staring at the slow-burning wick of the oil lamp. “They hate truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love in its place. When truth benefits them, they love it. When it rebukes them, they hate it. They love truth when it reveals itself and hate it when it reveals
them
.” He shook his head wearily, his countenance falling. “As one of the Thirteen once told me, ‘Thus, thus, truly thus: a mind so blind and sick, so base and ill-mannered, desires to lie hidden, but does not wish that anything should be hidden from it.’ And yet the opposite is what happens, does it not? Yet even so,” he said with a sad chuckle, “for all its wretchedness, the mind still prefers to delight in truth rather than in known falsehoods. Lies never satisfy us, Annon. They do not satisfy our internal hunger for truth.”

His gaze pierced Annon. “I cannot tell you whether your uncle’s story is true. I lack the knowledge. In the morning, I go to defend a corner of Silvandom where the Thirteen say a Dryad is hidden. Come with me. They live for hundreds of years. She may have the knowledge you seek. Your uncle told you to find the oracle Basilides. Perhaps the Dryad knows where the oracle may be found and whether your uncle tells the truth.” His eyes narrowed. “Or not.”

The suggestion startled Annon. His eyes were getting drowsy, but he sat up and stared at his mentor, his friend. “Go with you?”

“I would enjoy the companionship. Most of the raids are happening in the northern borders of Silvandom via the mountain passes. I seek to safeguard the western edge. If there is trouble, we will send for others to assist. That is, if you will join me.”

Annon thought it over quickly. What he had been told about Dryads fascinated him immensely. There was something about them, some connection to his uncle that he had not revealed to Reeder. The oak in the Paracelsus Towers. That was not a coincidence. Did his uncle know the tree likely contained a Dryad? Had he anticipated the distrust Annon would have? Likely so. If the mysteries of his uncle could be revealed in a manner that would satisfy a Druidecht, he would be more likely to believe his uncle’s version of events.

“I see you hesitate,” Reeder said. “I will not push you. My older bones are ready for a blanket. Decide in the morning if you wish to accompany me.”

Annon shook his head. “It is not that, Reeder. I think it would be useful if I did join you. I was only mulling what you told me.”

Reeder reached for a blanket and wrapped himself in the warm folds. “Think as long as you like. Only spare the oil lamp and blow out the flame ere you sleep.”

Annon was beginning to think that truth was like the knowledge of Mirrowen. There was evidence of it all around. Only most people did not bother to notice it. They were so set in their minds as to what existed and what didn’t that they left no room to explore the possibility that they shared the world with the spirits of Mirrowen. That both worlds existed simultaneously. That it was even possible to connect them.

“I will go with you,” Annon promised, giving his friend a smile.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Nizeera’s tail lashing. He felt her thoughts graze against his mind smugly.

Yes. Yes, you will.

He looked at her in confusion, seeing the gleaming reflection of the lamplight in her eyes.

Why do you stay with us?
he asked her.

Because of my oath to you,
she replied.

And why did you swear an oath to me?

There was a long pause. A shiver began from the base of his spine, welling up until he shuddered.

I did not swear the oath to you, mortal. I swore it to your mother. A Druidecht with the fireblood. Like you.
Her tail began lashing back and forth. It reminded him of a serpent.

“Some say the greatest evil is physical pain. The Bhikhu reject this notion, of course. I reject it as well. Wounds of the heart run more deeply and cannot be treated with salves and herbs.”

– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

T
he woods were dark and lonely in the morning light. A thin haze crept amidst the trees, blanketing the morning with a veil of fog. Annon and Reeder walked side by side, enjoying the brisk air and the chance to be together again. Annon’s emotions were tangled and conflicted. He thought about his uncle. He thought about Erasmus. More importantly, he wondered if he had lost his senses completely. Why was he doing this? Why was he even involved? Why had he bothered to listen to Reeder in the first place?

Amidst his tangled emotions was a sense of dread. He was worried about Hettie. What was she doing? Where was she? Was she safe? There were too many questions to answer. More than anything else, he wanted answers. He did not want explanations or excuses. He wanted to
know
the truth. He wanted certainty before he chose.

The spirits of Silvandom heard his troubled thoughts. There were many in the forest. They were aware of him, listening to his troubled feelings, his conflicting thoughts. He felt their presence
all around him like gossamer butterflies, attracted to his intensely personal feeling of doom.

“You’re deep in thought,” said Reeder. “I was a little surprised you chose to come with me this morning.”

“I hope to find answers,” said Annon. “Is that so strange?”

Reeder chuckled. He pointed into the mist. “There are always answers. Some we do not like. Some we are not ready for. But looking for them is good all the same.”

It was difficult judging when dawn had actually broken. The mist blocked the rising sun, causing the light to gradually grow. Annon was not sure of the moment when he realized that it was day, but the details around him grew sharper. The lush green trees, the dewy grass, the chittering of insects. Before he knew it, he realized it was dawn. Somehow it just happened.

“How far is it?” asked Annon. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“It will take most of the day,” answered Reeder. “The place we are going is on the far, far fringe of the woods. If we are lucky, we should get there before dusk.” Reeder pointed to a shimmering spiderweb. “Do you see that?”

“What kind of spirit is it?” asked Annon.

“I don’t know, but isn’t it beautiful? There’s so much about these woods I’m still learning. I miss Wayland. Of course I do. There are many different kinds of life here in Silvandom. There are creatures I’ve never even dreamed of.” He sighed. Then he gave Annon an arch look. “The most dangerous spirits, they say, are up north. In the Scourgelands. That even to look at one is to die.”

“Do you think I trust my uncle that much?”

“It is your feelings I distrust more. You’ve always been an angry lad, Annon. It makes me worry about you.”

The trees surrounding them changed from slender giants to red maples that swayed gently with the breeze. The smell of the forest was mesmerizing. There were plants that Annon had never seen before. Trailing behind them was the big cat Nizeera. Annon had almost forgotten about her, so quiet did she move. They walked for a long time in silence, watching the colors of the forest shift as they entered a new domain populated with different plants and spirits.

A burst of light suddenly exploded in front of them. It was a spirit, frantic and throbbing tense feelings of urgency. It hung in the air, buzzing in front of their faces like a hummingbird.

Come, Druidecht! You are needed! Come with haste! Haste! Follow me!

Reeder held up his hand, trying to calm the frantic creature. “What is it, friend? Tell us.”

The spirit zoomed away through the woods, leaving a shimmering trail of dust. They could hear its frantic screech as it raced back the way it came, the dust-motes of magic starting to descend like hoarfrost from the air. Annon and Reeder looked at each other and then plunged into the woods after it, caught up in the emotion it had summoned inside of them.