“Powers of the Earth,” she called, “come and help me!”
Her voice grew stronger, and she turned and scanned the edges of the clearing as she summoned all her faith. “Creatures who serve the King, come and help his servant!”
She heard movement nearby. Rustling; creaking branches. Her heart beat faster. A soft breeze made the branches high overhead dance.
Someone melted out of the trees. Dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Skin brown and vaguely patterned like bark, yet undeniably human. His bare feet left no print in the damp earth beneath him. He was young, perhaps fifteen. He stepped toward her with a barely discernible limp. Where his lame foot had been, green shoots made the shape of a footprint. He stretched out his fingers and touched a great tree, its trunk wrapped with slender vines, and as he did, new buds appeared on the vine and old buds unfolded into bright green leaves.
“Who are you?” he asked.
A priestess of the Darkworld, Rehtse thought, but she did not say the words. Suddenly she knew they were no longer true.
“I am Rehtse, a priestess of the King,” she said.
“Then the woods welcome you,” the young man said.
“Who are you?” Rehtse asked.
The young man looked at her for a long moment as though he was trying to remember. “My name is Kieran,” he said slowly, with a slight frown. “I am the child of the woods.”
He took a step forward. “You called in the King’s name,” he said. “Now you tell me, please… why have you called?”
“I need help,” Rehtse said. “I am on a journey to seek the King. I have lost my companion, and I don’t know how to find her on my own.”
The young man bent his head. “There are many dangers in the woods these days. Who is your companion?”
“Her name is Virginia Ramsey,” Rehtse said. “She is Gifted—the Seer of Pravik. A young woman, like myself.”
Kieran knelt and buried his fingers in soft brown earth. Rehtse blinked hard. For a moment he looked like something rooted to the earth, a tree or a moss-covered rock, not human at all. She might have easily walked by without seeing him. A low sound reached her ears, almost too soft to hear. Once more the branches and leaves rustled. The ground beneath her felt suddenly like a living thing. An instant later the sensation was gone, and Kieran was standing.
“We have found her,” he said.
Relief flooded Rehtse, drowning out even her sense of wonder. “How did you…”
“The roots go everywhere,” he answered. He smiled. A shy smile.
“Where is she?” Rehtse asked.
Now a frown crossed his face. “The woman in black has her,” he said. He saw Rehtse opening her mouth to reply and raised his hand as though to calm her urgency. “We cannot go to her now,” he said. “Wait until nightfall. My father will help us.”
“Your father?” Rehtse asked.
The shy smile reappeared. “He is called Tyrentyllith,” Kieran said.
* * *
Lord Robert Sinclair sat by a fire, the blue stone chained to his arms and resting at his feet. He stared into it. Power stirred deep within like a monster far beneath the surface of water, casting only the faintest of ripples to the surface.
The stone had been Adhemar Skraetock’s handiwork. A melding of spell and stone, strength both physical and spiritual, and very, very old. It was designed to overcome the limitations of the human members of the Order of Spider, who could enact the Rite of the Spider only far enough to take in as much power, as much life and energy and breath, as they could contain without killing themselves. A sad limitation indeed. But the stone could contain far more and never burst.
Lord Robert had asked himself, many times since Evelyn had entrusted the stone to his carrying, whether it was growing heavier as she enacted the Rite upon her fellows in the Order, murdering them in the process, upon the earth and its children, upon innocents and upon Gifted, and poured all she took into it. He could not tell.
In return for his faithful service, she gave him a taste of what she took. It flowed through him into the stone. She called him Link. He was the conduit through which she strengthened herself for her last rebellion. He was glad to serve her this way, for he was convinced that Evelyn alone had the power now to save the Seventh World from the enemy who was coming.
Lord Robert had told himself for some time that Evelyn was not evil; that she had simply opened doors into the world beyond the Veil, and because others didn’t understand that reality, they labeled her a witch and a threat. He knew now that he had been wrong, that he had been lying to himself. Of course she was evil. As evil as the powers she drew upon. And there were assuredly other powers in the world that she did not possess, powers of good and of light. He had seen enough in the council days to tell him that.
But such powers were far from him now.
He was left with a stone, with the stirrings of power that frightened and drew him, with the conviction that even in her wickedness Evelyn was the world’s only hope, and with the old resentment against Virginia that plagued him anew.
Why had she come to him? How had she even come to be here? Lord Robert knew well enough that the stone already contained shreds of her, power Skraetock had taken from her on the hilltop. Evelyn was still twisting that power for her own ends. And Evelyn had intended to take Virginia prisoner when they took Pravik, with the intent of using her again. But neither the laird nor Evelyn could have suspected that she would come to them first.
Why would she seek him out?
His hands shook as he peered deep into the swirling blue.
Virginia was sitting in the shadows just beyond the fire, cross-legged with her skirt drawn over her legs like she had always sat on the mountainside at home. But now her arms were bound to the tree behind her, the side of her face bruised from his blow, blood crusting around her eye. She had not changed much, except that her presence was more unnerving than ever—more otherworldly, but in a way that felt entirely foreign to him now that he had been so long with Evelyn. Her dark hair fell over slim shoulders; her green eyes looked into nothing.
He sat watching her for a time, and she shifted as though she knew his eyes were on her. After a while, she spoke.
“I have been angry with you,” she said, her voice steady and quiet. “I have been angry with you every day since the hilltop, and only when I sleep have I been able to escape that. Sometimes not even then. You will never know how deeply you have hurt me.”
Lord Robert thought of the power stirring in the stone beneath his hands, power torn from her until it nearly killed her. He thought of how, sometimes, he could see her face in the stone’s blue surface.
He knew more than she imagined. “And you tell me that to make me feel sorry?” he asked.
“I tell you that because I am willing to forgive you,” Virginia said. “And if I am willing—I think the King will be also. I want to help you. Help me escape, and come with me. Turn from this darkness, laird—turn from all that has trapped you.”
“What makes you think I want help?” he asked.
“I have seen it,” she said.
His lip curled. Still seeing into people’s souls. But he had no choice but to stand with Evelyn now. He had come too far. He regarded her coldly. “You think you have something better to offer me?”
“Light,” she said.
“Little good your light is doing you now,” he said.
“The story is not over,” she said quietly.
The laird stood slowly and walked over to her. She tensed.
“Listen to me, Virginia,” he said. “You know as well as we do that Morning Star will soon appear. The rule of the Morel family is already over—the emperor has gone mad. His general rules in his place even now, did you know that? Morning Star’s power no longer upholds the Empire. More of the Blackness slips through the tattered Veil every day, and the rest are waiting for their ruler. The five hundred years are over. Of your King there is no sign.”
He knelt suddenly
before her. “And now, if you want to stand against Morning Star, you’ll take sides with the only person on earth who can do it—with Evelyn.”
His words caught her off guard—it was clear in her face. “I don’t understand,” Virginia said. “Evelyn is a servant of the Blackness.”
“Better to say that the Blackness serves her,” Lord Robert said. “She is no friend of Morning Star. Did you think she would just turn the world over when the Usurper returns? She is human too. She has given her life to learning the secrets of the world unseen and collecting the powers of this one, and she will not relinquish all that to some tyrant. She has the power to stop him. To assert human independence. And she will.”
“And then what?” Virginia asked. “Enslave us all? It’s a foolish hope, laird—even if she could do it, we’d only be trading one devil for another. But she can’t. No human can defeat Morning Star and the Blackness, much less by using evil!”
“Cling to that belief, then,” Lord Robert said. “Cling to it until it destroys you. Come to your senses, Virginia. Evelyn needs your power. She’ll have it one way or another. You’re angry with me for giving you up to them the first time—well, I remember what they did to you. And now I’m warning you. Better that you side with her of your own free will.”
“I will die first,” Virginia said.
“You might,” he said. His voice lowered. “She is coming.”
A footfall, very close, startled Virginia. She pulled against the ropes that bound her to the tree.
“Must you always come to us unwillingly?” Evelyn asked. “Always bound and imprisoned?”
“It is you who chooses it,” Virginia said. “Not I.”
Cloth rustled; Evelyn was kneeling. She was very close. Virginia’s skin prickled, and she wished she could pull away. But Evelyn did not touch her.
“Allow me to loose you,” the woman said. “Give me reason to treat you as an ally and a friend. I can do so much for you—teach you to master your power. Help you fight what you hate most.”
Virginia said nothing. She kept her head bowed and sat entirely still. Evelyn’s voice took on an edge.
“Morning Star will come soon and unleash his hordes on this world. You—you and the other Gifted have the power to oppose him. But you are untrained and scattered. Let me train you. Let me bring you together—and you will destroy the Usurper when he comes.”
“To make room for another?” Virginia said. “Is the thought of you ruling this world supposed to be better?”
“The thought of yourself in power, then,” Evelyn said. “And your Ploughman, and the Singer. The thought of all six of you ruling as a council, with me at your head. The Council for Exploration Into Worlds Unseen—reborn, and so much more than it ever was.”
“Six?” Virginia asked.
“You see?” Evelyn said. “You do not even know. Yes, there are six. Six specially Gifted, worth more even than others, each bearing a piece of the King’s power. The King is not coming, Virginia. You are. You and the rest of the Six are meant to save this world. But you cannot do it without me.”
“I know my purpose,” Virginia said. “The King himself spoke it to me. I am here to awaken the world to him, not to usurp his place. I would not rule on his throne. And I will not help you do it.”
Fingers suddenly touched her face, crawling over her eyes. Pain and fear shot through her, twining together deep inside, old pain and new terror. But she said nothing.
“You will help me,” Evelyn said. “You do remember the hilltop? How Skraetock used your power? Of course you do; you still feel it. I am more powerful now than Skraetock ever was. I have discovered the secret of using his stone to its fullest potential. I am mistress of the Spider, and I will use it to destroy you and take your power for myself. I am offering you a better way. This is your last chance to take it.”
Evelyn stood suddenly. The folds of her cloak were a blur of Blackness that even Virginia could see. The air felt polluted, sooty.
“I will rule from Pravik,” Evelyn said. “All who remain in the city will swear allegiance to me or forfeit their freedom and their lives. Come with me—reign beside me. If you plead for their lives, I will listen to you. But if you choose to remain in your pitiful place of weakness, I will leave you there—and your voice will avail nothing, for yourself or for anyone else. Do you understand me?”
Virginia’s mind raced with thoughts of Pravik—Libuse’s voice, Huss’s learned questions, Maggie’s touch, the formal ways of the Darkworlders, the hope and loyalty and strength of the Ploughman’s farmers. She had kept herself apart from them in many ways, yet they had all captured her heart. She forced back tears. She could not be weak now.
She closed her eyes. Words came to her: one of Rehtse’s prayers. Urgently she lifted them in spirit. Great King, my shield and protector be. May I not give way to wrong. I want to remember you—to cling to you. To awaken the world to you.
In quiet desperation, she prayed, Great King, come!
And in the depths of her spirit, something answered.
I am, it said.
She could not smile, but she found the strength to raise her head. “You are deceived, Evelyn,” she said. “The King himself will come and take the throne from Morning Star—and from every usurper.”
“This is your chosen way, then,” Evelyn said. “Link! Bring me the stone.”
Virginia closed her eyes and tried to fight despair. She whispered one last prayer as she heard a humming in the air and the low chanting of Evelyn’s voice. Watch over Rehtse. Let her find you. Please.
Without warning, tendrils pierced Virginia’s skin, and she cried out. They tightened and coiled and stabbed holes through her, hundreds of knife wounds, and she was bleeding to death, bleeding out her energy and life and power.
She screamed.
Evelyn smiled at the sound and the sight of the Spider draining Virginia of her power—limitless power, Evelyn suspected, unlike the unnatural abilities stolen from the other members of the Order, power that would not be fully taken until the girl was dead. Or perhaps she would not kill her. Perhaps she would let her live to be used again.
There was a flash of light, and for the space of a blink, Evelyn thought she saw a man’s form superimposed over Virginia’s. The Spider’s tendrils writhed and released, drawing back into Evelyn’s hands. The witch gasped.
“What is it?” Link asked.
“Nothing,” Evelyn said. “It is nothing. We will leave her for now.”
“I don’t understand,” Link said.
“We have taken enough for now!” Evelyn snapped. She took one last look at Virginia, who was unconscious, held up by the ropes that bound her to the tree. She could see nothing—and no one—else.
But as she stalked back to the tent Link had erected for her, her hands were shaking.
* * *
Chapter 9: Rescue
The moonlight grew in strength as Rehtse crept through the forest at Kieran’s side. A meadow stretched out before them, grey-green and glistening in the moonlight. On the other side the forest rose up again, blue and shrouded in mist.
Rehtse heard Kieran, but she did not think he spoke aloud. Somehow he communicated without voice. She is there, he said. Together they dropped to a crawl, Kieran nearly disappearing. The long grasses parted just in front of them, enough to create a barely visible line leading into the meadow. The grasses waved in the tiniest of breezes, brushing against Rehtse’s skirts and wetting her face with dew.
And then, unexpectedly, Rehtse heard another voice. In its near-silent strains was the creaking of boughs and the rustle of leaves. It was Tyrentyllith himself who spoke. She knew his voice though she had never heard it before: this was the Forest Lord, the spirit of the woods who had served the King faithfully.
We will help you rescue the Seer, Tyrentyllith said. But we beg a favour in return. Take Kieran with you to seek out the King. Before he came to us, he was crippled and ill. He needs healing that we cannot give him. He is hum
an, but we have been giving him life to keep him alive, and it makes him too much like us. He needs to be free.
Rehtse nodded, wishing she understood better what she was agreeing to—what mystery this boy represented. She glanced at Kieran to see if he had any response, but he gave no indication that he had heard. Somehow Tyrentyllith had cloaked his words so only Rehtse heard them.
The forest was whispering, sighing. This time they both heard the Forest Lord. They are sleeping.
Come, Kieran prodded.
They crawled forward together through the long grass. A nightjar burst out of the meadow before them, and Rehtse’s heart pounded at the unexpected movement. She followed the bird with her eyes, moonlight silvery on its wings. Fly away, she thought.
She could feel the shadows in the forest on the other side of the meadow, far darker than mere shadows.
Nearly at the end of the meadow, Kieran stopped her with a light touch. She looked at him, and he smiled. Then he slipped away from her side. Beyond the meadow, Rehtse knew, the trees were silently growing leaves; branches were shifting; trunks were leaning closer together. The camp of the witch was being cast into utter darkness, as Kieran and Tyrentyllith had planned it. The boy had explained the plan to her before they set out. Their movements would be cloaked in shadows so deep even the witch would not able to see them.
Rehtse rose into a crouch and peered into the dark tunnel formed by the trees. She slipped into the shadows and waited near the edge for her eyes to adjust. They did, and quickly. She smiled faintly. Even for a Darkworlder, she had unusually good vision. She had never expected to make such use of it.
* * *
As Rehtse crept closer to the camp, Kieran slipped in from another angle. The boy did not move silently, but his movements did not sound like anything human—they sounded like the slightest rustle of leaves high above, or the soft creeping of some nocturnal creature through the trees. Unlike Rehtse, he did not see well in the dark. But he did not need to. He moved slowly, kneeling to touch his fingers in the earth every few feet, learning what the roots would tell him of the lay of the land and responding to what he learned.
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