“Because I’m the only one who could protect them from the shadows,” Sela said to Larkin. She shifted her attention to Denan. “And as I’ve told you before, I have to be here.”
The amulet gave me visions sometimes, Eiryss had said. Visions of you, Larkin. And your sister Sela. Both of you breaking the curse.
“You will take her back to the others and flee to the Alamant,” Denan said. “Now.”
Larkin pressed a hand to his chest. “I think— I think she has to be here.”
He swung wide, disbelieving eyes to her.
Larkin crouched before her sister. “You knew? You knew all along we would all have to come here. That I would have to come here.”
A guilty look crossed Sela’s face. “She’s had this plan in motion for centuries.” She being the White Tree. “Just waiting for the right players to come along and make the right decisions.”
Denan moved closer to Larkin. She recognized the gesture for what it was—his support. She pushed to her feet, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Light, she’d missed him.
“All this time.” She tried to banish the hurt from her voice. “You knew that I would trade my life for Denan’s. That I would become a wraith . . . what that meant, that Denan would come after me and bring you with him. And you didn’t bother to tell me?”
Sela glanced up at Garrot. “Join the others.”
Garrot didn’t question her. Denan glared at the druid as he stepped past. Larkin tensed—Garrot had saved their lives, but that didn’t erase what he’d done. Nor did it make her trust him.
When he was out of earshot, Sela continued, “We refused to force you, Larkin. Merely gave you the opportunity to rise to the occasion.”
We. Not I.
Maisy had called herself “we” once as well. It all suddenly made sense. “You’re possessing my sister, just like the Black Tree possesses me.” And Maisy. But then, why was she there during the day?
Sela folded her arms. “We’re friends. We share this body.”
No one has that right! Larkin was so angry she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
“Get out of her,” Denan said, his voice low, dangerous.
Sela’s eyes changed—turning white with flashing colors. Her voice changed too, becoming more whispery, like wind through leaves. This wasn’t her sister anymore. This was the White Tree. “How is this any different than the sigils I gave you? Or the visions?”
Larkin curled her hands into a fist to keep from trying to shake the White Tree out of her sister. “You have no right to steal her childhood!”
“Or to use her as a tool,” Denan said. “You got into her, so get out!”
Sela held Larkin’s gaze. “I can shift my soul, not eliminate it. There’s nowhere else for me to go.”
Larkin huffed as she rose to her feet. “You will go right now.”
Those white eyes hardened. “Then you will all die.”
“You’re already dead.” Larkin wiped rain from her nose.
“Part of me is,” the White Tree answered.
“What does that mean?” Denan asked.
The White Tree frowned. “My soul is not like yours. It can be split, grafted onto something new. The individual trees of the forest and the monarch sigils, they are each a piece of me.”
Which explained why the Black Tree could possess so many at once. And what Larkin had done last night. “The Black Tree is possessing your body.”
Sorrow filled Sela’s eyes. “I’m like the mulgars now.”
“What?” Denan asked.
Light. Light, the suffering this one deranged tree had caused; it was simply too massive. Larkin couldn’t understand the breadth of it. She couldn’t repeat it over and over again. She’d wait until she’d gathered everyone.
Denan turned back to Sela. “Why didn’t you just tell us all this?”
“I am not a human. My thoughts are not in words but memories. It was only after I bonded with Sela—a child—that I began to understand language and how . . . truly disconnected all of you are.”
Sela’s eyes shifted back to their familiar emerald green. “You were so happy, Larkin,” she said in a small, childlike voice. “I didn’t want you to be scared.”
Even with the chaos, the time Larkin had with Denan and her family had been the best of her life. Sela had been trying to protect her—to give her a gift. Larkin softened a fraction. Denan’s arms around her tightened. His open gaze said he was thinking the same thing.
Denan nodded, and the three of them headed toward the others. Eiryss and Ture tied up Vicil, the smoking hole in his chest indicating Eiryss had sent an orb through him—Larkin was shocked that she’d heard nothing of it. Ramass wrapped Caelia’s burnt hands. Tam lay where they’d left him, Hagath stitching his wound. Garrot stood off to the side, watching them, his expression unreadable. Talox was nowhere to be found.
Denan, Larkin, and Sela crossed to stand over Tam and Hagath.
“How is he?” Larkin asked.
“I’ve cleaned out the chips of bone and stitched it.” Hagath wore one of her tunics, which was dark in places from her own blood. Ture returned from the shelter with strips of torn cloth—clearly one of the shirts—which he handed to his wife.
Hagath set about bandaging Tam’s leg. “He needs to stay off it for at least a week.”
“Which one of you is waiting on me hand and foot?” Tam laughed shrilly at his own joke. Then his veneer fell away, leaving behind dark bitterness. “Just give me something so I can fight. I know you have it. Healers always do.”
Hagath gave him a disapproving frown and motioned to Ture.
He went to the font, drew the dregs of sap, and poured it into four vials. He offered one to Tam. “Any more than this, and you’ll be drunk with it.”
Thunder cracked as Tam downed one vial and stuffed the rest in his pocket.
Movement in Larkin’s periphery caught her attention. Talox descended the stairs with West in his arms. West’s neck arched at a painful angle, his arms swaying unnaturally.
Unable to bear it, Larkin turned away. Caelia began to cry softly. Denan hung his head. Tam cried out and tried to stand. Hagath attempted to calm him.
Ramass went to Atara’s body and picked her up as well.
“No!” Tam pushed to his feet despite Hagath. “Don’t you touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!”
Denan stepped in front of Talox. “It wasn’t them, Tam. It was the Black Tree.”
Tears streaming down his face, Tam turned toward Talox. “Stop him.”
Talox finally looked up and met his friend’s gaze. “I was there—at Ryttan. I killed dozens of my own people. Some were friends. I—” His voice broke. “I can’t imagine bearing that burden for as long as they have.”
All the fight drained out of Tam, and he sagged against Denan.
Larkin had so much to tell them. But it would have to wait. They had to bury their dead first.
Plan of Attack
The rain had stopped, though it was still overcast. West and Atara’s bodies lay side by side on lashed-together strips of driftwood, a boat grave. This was the Idelmarchian funeral custom, and the sight brought tears to Larkin’s eyes.
She combed West’s mustache over his top lip, the ends trailing down his chest—just the way he liked it. Caelia rebraided Atara’s hair and placed a dagger in her hand. The rest gathered leaves to cover their bloody bodies—there wasn’t time to sew their shrouds.
They would have hated being buried together, Larkin thought. They were not overly fond of each other to begin with.
Finished, the group looked at Larkin and Denan expectantly. Denan took his place at the head of the bodies, and Larkin slipped in beside him and held Sela’s hand.
“The greatest testament of love is a man who has laid down his life for his people.” Denan eyed them. “They died for us. To honor that sacrifice, we must live our lives in the same manner; we must love our fellow man enough to die for them. And perhaps harder still, t
hat we live for those we’ve lost. Live so that when we meet again, they will be proud to call us friends.”
Tam broke down crying. Tears streaming down her face, Caelia slipped her hand into Atara’s.
Denan closed his eyes. “May my life and my death be as honorable as yours.”
That left Larkin. She struggled to maintain control and then leaned forward. “Wherever you are now, I hope you’ve found peace.”
She reached out and kissed both their cheeks. Their skin was still warm. Eiryss and Hagath took out their flutes and played a funeral dirge, one that made tears stream down Larkin’s face.
It was time to push the funeral boat into the water, but Caelia wouldn’t let go of Atara’s hand.
“Caelia,” Larkin said gently.
“Even after the whole town turned against me, she stood by my side.” Caelia wiped her cheeks. “I killed a wraith—or thought I did. Did you know that?”
Larkin shook her head.
Caelia sniffed. “I did it in her memory. Her honor. Imagine how thrilled I was to find my dearest friend alive after all, waiting for me in the Alamant.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to Atara’s cheek. “I’ll do it again, Atara. For real this time.”
She finally released her and stepped back. The five remaining Alamantians dug their shoulders into the raft, launching it into the lake. Larkin hoped she lived long enough to tell their families how they died. They deserved to know.
One by one, the others drifted away. Caelia reached out, taking Larkin’s hand. The two of them watched the raft until it moved out of sight beyond the trees.
It was done, and Larkin would never see them again. At least not in this life.
Above, the storm broke, the clouds scattering. “Come on,” Larkin said to Caelia. “We can’t mourn them. Not yet.”
The two of them turned toward the others. The Valynthians had prepared another meal of fish, waternips, and gobby. The Alamantians clustered to the opposite side of the fire, most sitting on or leaning against large pieces of driftwood, gorging themselves.
Garrot sat apart from both groups, Sela asleep with her head on his lap. Larkin bristled at the sight. He’d killed her best friend. Nearly killed her. He had no right to touch any member of her family.
But then, Sela had been alone with him for at least a day. Garrot is calculating but not cruel. Larkin decided to keep an eye on him but let her sister sleep. For now.
Denan started toward the group, but Larkin held back, dreading what she had to tell them.
“Larkin?” Denan asked.
Sighing, Larkin sat gingerly on the bark between Tam and her husband and leaned against the driftwood. She took a handful of waternips for herself and passed the rest along.
She couldn’t help but notice how the Alamantians watched the Valynthians warily. She couldn’t blame them. It was disorienting, having the monsters that had nearly destroyed mankind turn out not to be monsters at all.
Beside her, Denan wolfed down his fish without bothering to wait for it to cool. This was clearly the first hot meal he’d had in a while. Judging by how thin he’d grown, probably the first full meal too.
Time was running out. Larkin couldn’t put it off any longer. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I know why the Black Tree hunted me so ruthlessly.” Everyone’s gazes snapped to her. She swallowed hard. “When the curse was formed, Eiryss was safe behind a dome. She wasn’t cursed, nor was the child inside her. I’m descended from that child.”
She took a deep breath, gathering up her courage. “I crossed the water into the Alamant last night. I went to the White Tree and embedded it with a thorn—a thorn that will connect the two trees. Shadows were already filling it when I left. When night falls, those shadows will be released into the Alamant.”
Denan stiffened. “You’re saying the shadows we faced in the Mulgar Forest last night will attack our homes? Our families?”
“Without Sela to protect them,” Talox said, “they won’t last the night.”
All my fault.
The Alamantians reacted instantly. Tam pulled at his hair, repeating Alorica’s name over and over and over.
“My babies,” Caelia cried, her hand over her mouth.
Talox and Denan hung their heads.
The Valynthians remained silent, varying expressions of horror on their faces.
“Was anyone hurt?” Ramass asked.
“The Black Tree tried to force me to kill my family,” Larkin said. “But I was able to slow him. I even broke free a little.”
“What do we do now?” Ramass asked Eiryss.
But it was Sela who answered, “We have to kill the Black Tree.”
Sela pushed herself off Garrot. Her white irises danced with colors. Not Sela at all—she was probably still asleep.
Eiryss regarded her. “I know what you are.” Clearly, Eiryss had recognized the preternatural light in Sela’s eyes. “I saw that you would come.”
Ramass looked at her questioningly.
“What’s left of my consciousness resides in Sela’s body,” Sela said.
Only it wasn’t really Sela. This was the White Tree speaking through Sela’s lips. Larkin had to remember that, to call her that. She clenched her teeth to keep her accusatory words back.
“Are you sure your body has had enough rest?” Garrot followed the White Tree, clearly concerned.
“It will have to be enough,” she said.
The way the two interacted, as if they’d confided in one another, made Larkin’s blood boil.
The White Tree came to stand before Larkin. “The Black Tree isn’t the only one who can penetrate a sacred tree. I’m going to bore a hole into him—into his heartwood. The rest of you will protect me until I’ve gone deep enough.”
“How long will it take?” Ture asked, his expression filled with dread.
“I’m not sure,” the White Tree said. “Long after nightfall.”
The Alamantians would have to fight the wraiths again. Fight her. Looking at her exhausted friends . . . Some of them wouldn’t survive. They might not succeed at all. Could Larkin force the Black Tree’s shadows out in time to protect her friends? She would have to. She couldn’t face losing any more of them.
“Then we don’t have a choice,” Denan said. “We have to kill the wraiths again. Turn them back into humans.”
“This won’t be taking on one or two wraiths at a time like last night,” Larkin said. “We’ll all appear at once.”
“Sela can shield us,” Caelia said. “Like she did before.”
“I might not have enough magic as it is,” the White Tree said. “I cannot spare some to protect you.”
Silence hung heavy and dark over the group.
“We do what we must,” Talox said.
“Can’t we just tie you up?” Tam asked miserably.
“No bond exists that the shadows cannot break,” Ture said. “And no matter where we run, the shadows will find us and drag us where they want us to go.”
Ramass leaned forward. “Eiryss will create a dome to protect Sela while she drills into the Black Tree.”
Denan nodded. “The rest of us will take down the wraiths.”
“When we’re human,” Ramass said, “Eiryss will take as much magic as she can hold and shoot the biggest orb she can make down the hole. Over and over, until she’s reached the heartwood.”
“Where does that leave me?” Larkin asked, knowing there was more. After all, Eiryss has said it would take Larkin and Sela both to break the curse.
“You will use your warrior and barrier magic to finish him,” the White Tree said.
“How?” Larkin asked.
The White Tree moved toward the carriage. “Come with me.”
Not quite understanding the dread that filled her, Larkin started to obey but paused when Denan made to go with her. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
He wavered, clearly exhausted, but there was also real fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say somethin
g and then glanced self-consciously at his friends. “You might need me.”
Larkin had never seen him so unsure. And she knew why. He was afraid to let her out of his sight. Was this one of the consequences of her actions?
She gave him a gentle smile. “I can’t die, remember?” He deflated and finally nodded. She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.
Larkin quickly caught up to the White Tree.
“The Black Tree and I searched for someone like you for a long time, Larkin. The Black Tree found many who were close—Maisy, for instance. She had the lineage.”
The White Tree stepped into the carriage. “We’re both lucky I found you first. Lucky that you pricked your hand on a thorn in my forest. I recognized your blood—it’s all in the blood, you see. That’s how I knew your lineage. Your determination. That’s why I gave you a bit of my magic.”
Larkin had guessed as much. “I wish you would have chosen someone else’s body to inhabit.”
“My presence would have driven another mad, but not Sela. She was lonely, desperate for a friend, and young enough not to break.”
Larkin hadn’t known Sela was lonely. Vulnerable. Another wave of guilt slammed into her. This time, it turned to anger. She stepped inside and slammed the door. “Surely you have other descendants to choose from.”
The White Tree watched her as if she didn’t understand.
Larkin pulled the lever. The carriage began its journey up. She gripped the bars of the carriage and stared over Valynthia. The water shimmered in the morning light. The heat was rising. It would be a beautiful day for a swim. And suddenly, she remembered Bane. How he’d taught her to swim, his hands at the small of her back and her thighs. The bright sun filtered through the leaves to spin off the top of the water. His voice was muffled from the tinkling water filling her ears.
His death had been like those the Black Tree had shown her. Wrong. Heartbreaking. Unfair. What she wouldn’t do to go back in time and change things.
The carriage arrived at the main level.
Larkin wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What must I do?”
The White Tree stood on tiptoe to unlatch the carriage gate. She crossed the main platform toward the font, then diverted into the little building and came out with a cup. They climbed the steps to the dais.
Wraith King Page 39
