Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, kicking her down again when she tried to get up with him. Moving close, he pinned her to the ground with his foot. She struggled to break free, but could not manage it, betrayed by the elixir on which she had depended, deserted by her magic and her strength, bereft of everything.
She looked up at the Straken Lord as he towered over her, his spines rigid, like tiny spears extending from his powerful body, his dark face expressionless. His strange blue eyes fixed on her, willing her to meet his gaze, looking to see the fear he expected she would display. She stared up at him, but there was no fear and no despair. There was only grim resignation.
He studied her for a moment longer, then drew the short sword from his belt, the last weapon he possessed, and drove it through her heart.
22
Seersha stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, watching with her one good eye as Mirai Leah took a seat next to Railing. She was the last of them to arrive. The Druid had called them all together—those returned from the ill-fated expedition to Arborlon and Woostra—in the house the men and the boy shared as communal lodging.
Railing, assessing the situation, believed from the urgency of her summons and now the serious expression on her bluff face that she had something important to tell them.
He glanced from Crace Coram seated right across from him, to Skint sitting next to the Dwarf Chieftain, to Woostra tucked back in a corner by himself, and finally to Mirai beside him. He couldn’t be sure from their faces, but he guessed they probably thought the same as he did.
“I’ve finished an audience with the King, Aphenglow’s grandfather, and with his brother, both of whom are aware of what is happening to the Forbidding. I have asked to return there, and the King has agreed to it.”
“Finally!” Railing exclaimed, unable to contain himself.
“Better hear me out,” Seersha said, cutting him short. She took a moment to be sure he was listening. “The King will provide a company of Elven Hunters to go with me. Or perhaps it’s me going with them, depending on how you read things. Sian Aresh, who is Captain of the Home Guard, will lead these men. We will travel back into the deep Westland until we reach the Breakline. The Elves are under strict orders to stay outside the walls of the Forbidding, even if an entry presents itself. They are to keep watch for an attempted breakout by those trapped within. Reports are to be sent back to Arborlon, but the Elves are to hold their position until a more significant force can be assembled, equipped, and flown west in warships to join them. At that point, any attempt to invade the Westland is to be met with force and thrown back.”
Railing felt his heart sink. There was no mention of a rescue attempt, no suggestion of anyone going in after either his brother or the Ard Rhys.
“A significant force,” Crace Coram repeated carefully.
Seersha made a face. “We all know the history. The war between the creatures of Faerie ended with the creation of the Forbidding. Until then, the two sides had been evenly matched. But the Forbidding gave the edge to the Elves and their allies. If the Forbidding collapses, as it appears it is in danger of doing, it will probably take all of the Races working together to keep from being overrun by the dark creatures imprisoned within. We’ve already had a taste of what that would require—all but Woostra, and I am sure you will agree he is much the better for having avoided it. So, no, the Elves alone—even a ‘significant force,’ whatever that means—won’t be enough.”
“So we’re buying time for something else to happen?” Skint guessed.
Seersha nodded. “We are, in part at least, and that is what we are here to discuss.”
“I want my brother back,” Railing declared.
Seersha nodded impatiently. “We all know how you feel. But getting your brother back is no more important to you than getting back Khyber Elessedil is to me. We are both looking for the same resolution. The question is, how do we get it?”
“But if you have to stay outside the Forbidding and hold your ground, like you say …”
Seersha held up one hand quickly. “The Elven Hunters have to hold their ground and stay outside. Not me.”
“So you will go in after them?”
“Just as soon as I am able to do so. Will you let me finish, please?”
“I’m going with you.”
“Let me finish, Railing.”
He went still again, biting back the rest of what he wanted to say, tamping down the frustration and impatience that ruled his every waking minute, reining in his fears and doubts regarding his brother’s safety. What he wanted to do was to commandeer a sprint, fly into the Forbidding, find his brother, and spirit him out. Now.
But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. And he knew that Seersha had already decided what it was they were going to do.
“Let’s get this out of the way, Railing,” she said to him suddenly. “I am going back into the Forbidding, but you are not.”
He started to leap up and object, but she put him back in his seat with a look and a quick gesture. Again, he tried to speak, but he was pinned in place and now he found he couldn’t speak, either.
“There are reasons for this,” she continued, ignoring his thrashings. “Good ones.” She paused. “You are going to hear them whether you want to or not. Do you understand me?” She waited until he quieted and gave her a brief nod. “Then pay attention. You are not fit enough to make this journey. Aphen’s magic is healing your broken leg, but it still has a way to go. The time required for the healing to become complete is uncertain. I can’t put others at risk by gambling that it will hold up if we are attacked. Yes, you have the magic of the wishsong to aid you, and it is a powerful weapon. But be that as it may, you still need time to finish mending, and I intend that you should have it. As well, you are the wrong person for this effort. You are brave and committed, but you are not experienced enough. So I am giving you something else to do, something every bit as important and perhaps more so.”
Everyone was listening closely now, intrigued by this unexpected possibility. Railing, rendered silent and immobile, seethed at his predicament, but listened anyway.
“The Ulk Bog who found Crace Coram and Oriantha was very insistent that the Straken Lord seeks a way to bring Grianne Ohmsford back into the Forbidding so he can breed with her. He has retained this fixation for more than a hundred years, and it appears to remain undiminished. This is not a rational expectation, but the Straken Lord does not appear to me to be a rational creature. So what if we could find a way to make it happen? What if we could produce Grianne?”
“Wouldn’t she be dead and buried by now?” Skint asked doubtfully.
“Not if she used the Druid Sleep. Not if she retains her magic and her Druid skills. She could still be mentally and physically strong enough to be every bit as effective as she was when she escaped him before. If so, she becomes a very potent weapon we could use against him. We have two considerations here. First, saving our friends, and second, putting an end to the threat of an invasion by the Jarka Ruus into the Four Lands. What if Grianne Ohmsford could provide both?”
She looked around the room, ending with Railing. “I want you to find out if this might be possible. Go with Woostra and search the records at Paranor to see if we can find out what happened to her. Take Mirai and Skint with you. If you find anything that tells you where she can be found, go to her and tell her what is happening. If half of what I’ve read about her from the Histories is true, she will want to help us. You are her descendant—you and Redden. You are all Ohmsfords. Talk to her. Persuade her. Bring her back and let us face him together.”
There was a long silence.
“This seems something of a stretch,” Skint said finally.