Deep-Spire
Page 19
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The Forest of Shadow, Central Omagen
A chill dusk was settling over the forest when the two women limped out of the thickets. After nearly two days, lost in the maze of bramble and blackthorn, Belythna had started to believe that they would perish there; wandering amongst the thorny bushes until hunger and thirst claimed them.
If she’d had any tears left, she would have wept with joy when the brambles drew back and the dark boughs of the Forest of Shadow beckoned.
Both of them had started to stagger. Hunger gnawed at their bellies and their thirst raged uncontrollably. Belythna’s tongue felt twice its usual size; her lips were cracked and parched. Even swallowing was painful. They had to find a water source or they would not last much longer.
The last of the light was fading when they stumbled across a small stream. Not caring if the water was safe to drink, the women stooped over the edge of the stream and drank, before splashing water over their faces and washing the blood off their arms.
“Careful,” Belythna croaked, seeing that Floriana had dunked her head under the water and was gulping greedily. She yanked her friend up by the scruff of her neck. “It’s dangerous to drink too quickly. Wait.”
Floriana nodded and slumped down on her rear on the pebbly edge of the stream. Thirst and hunger had disoriented her.
Belythna sat back on her heels and looked down at her ravaged black robes. The thickets had ripped them to shreds. The thick black material hung in rags from her body, and any exposed skin was criss-crossed with deep scratches. Some had started to scab over, while some bled and wept. She looked down at her lacerated hands and winced as she immersed them in the ice-cold trickling water of the stream.
She wondered if they were the first ever to have made it through that vast stretch of thickets.
Night fell and the women remained at the stream’s edge. They washed their wounds as best they could, before stretching out on the ground to rest. Eventually, as a frosty dawn crept across the forest, they built a small fire and Floriana went in search of some healing herbs. Their scratches needed tending; some were deep and would fester.
Belythna was warming her chilled, aching fingers over the first tender flames, when Floriana returned with a handful of Wayfarer. It was a herb that grew wild all over southern Palâdnith; one that healers often used to clean wounds. Floriana mashed the soft green leaves up with a small knife before smearing the paste over the cuts on their faces, arms, wrists and hands. The medicine stung at first but a few moments later, Belythna could feel the worst of her scratches numbing.
“It will be done now,” Floriana spoke finally, her voice hoarse. It was the first time she had spoken in many hours. “Deep-Spire will belong to her.”
Belythna nodded numbly.
Floriana stared down at the flickering flames. “She will come after us,” Floriana’s voice was flat with resignation.
“Jedin was right about that,” Belythna agreed. “We will have to hide.”
Silence fell between the two of them then. Belythna’s stomach growled loudly, demanding to be fed. The water had revived her, but neither of them could continue much further without food.
“So, do we have a plan?” Floriana asked eventually.
Belythna smiled at that; Floriana was practical. She had an ordered, methodical approach to life, even when her world was unravelling around her.
“First, we need to find a village,” Belythna replied. “We need to change clothes, get food and supplies. After that, I don’t know.”
Floriana nodded, her gaze still focused on the fire. “We won’t be able to stay together, you realise that?”
Belythna sighed, wishing Floriana had not brought that up.
“Others will have escaped,” Floriana continued, “and she will begin tracking us down, one by one. You and I must make sure we are not together when that happens.”
“But surely together, we’re stronger?” Belythna replied. Her hand strayed to the pouch around her waist where the Blood Stone safely nestled. “Serina gave me something, a couple of days before the battle. She told me to keep it secret and hidden but I think you should know about it.”
Belythna reached down and opened the pouch, drawing forth the pendant. She held the Blood Stone up for Floriana to see by its gold chain. The talisman’s surface flickered in the firelight. Floriana’s eyes grew huge as she studied the stone.
“I thought the last of these has been locked away in the Citadel,” she finally breathed.
Belythna shook her head. “No, this is the last of them.”
Floriana’s gaze met Belythna’s then. “You carry something Riadamor would love to get her hands on,” she told Belythna, her gaze fierce. “She must never find you.”