A rustle of leaves drew Raidon’s attention to the forest.
A gnarled mass of tree roots stepped out of the undergrowth, revealing itself to be a man made of bark and boughs. He looked like a rougher, cruder version of Grandmother Ash, the entity who’d guided Raidon across the Plaguewrought Land. If the creature was so close to a spellplague-infested portal, perhaps it was touched by the same wild magic.
“Who are you?” said Raidon.
The creature snarled “Desecrator!” in the fey language Raidon’s mother had taught him, then charged.
The monk slipped to the outside of the creature’s massive clublike arm, then sidekicked it in the neck. The snap of breaking branches ricocheted through the forest, and the woodling dropped like the felled tree it resembled.
Two more woodlings appeared on the edge of the clearing. They studied the tableau. One murmured to the other. Its rough voice was too soft for the monk to make out distinct words.
“We are not here to fight you. I’m sorry about your companion here,” called Raidon in Elvish. “But we will defend ourselves if attacked.”
The creatures returned their attention to the granite step. One said, its voice louder, “Then you’d best prepare your strongest defense.”
The woodlings melted back into the forest.
When he was satisfied the two creatures were not preparing an immediate offense, Raidon stooped and pulled Japheth up onto his shoulders. He stepped over the first crumpled fey creature and off the low platform. The faint play of flames surrounding the platform doused itself.
The monk made his way to the base of the closest tree trunk. He studied it for signs that it might suddenly animate into a far larger tree monster like the one the Lord of Bats had briefly called below Marhana Manor.
He detected no telltale signs of an imminent threat. He carefully rolled Japheth off his back and arranged him to a sitting position.
He produced a wineskin. He took a swig of the wine himself, then bent over the warlock. Raidon wet Japheth’s lips before pouring a tiny portion of the red fluid into the man’s mouth.
The warlock coughed and opened his eyes. “What’re you … Oh,” he said. Japheth looked around, taking in the forest, the platform, and the unmoving man made of branches.
He abruptly glanced down at himself, his hands, arms, and torso. He was looking for something, but seemed afraid to find it.
“The spellplague didn’t care for your taste, it seems,” Raidon said. “It happens. You’re fortunate.”
Japheth blew out a breath. He returned to scanning the surrounding panorama. He smiled and nodded as if satisfied in what he saw.
“This is Faerie?” said Raidon. “Or, what was Sildeyuir, merged back into Faerie?”
“Faerie, at the very least,” said Japheth. “A forest vista like this one is visible from the cave mouth where Neifion laired in the Feywild.”
“And Malyanna?”
Japheth closed his eyes and cocked his head to one side. He raised a finger and pointed off through the trees. “That way,” he said. “I can sense her as clearly as if she were standing right there. She’s close.”
“Close?”
“The veil is gone,” Japheth replied. “She’s within this realm, and no more than half a day’s walk, if that. But be on your guard. I’m pulling on the thread that leads to her. Unless my luck changes for the better, she’ll feel the tug, and know we’re coming.”
CHAPTER TEN
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)
Green Siren, Sea of Fallen Stars
The cool wind off the water tumbled Anusha’s hair. The salty tang smelled like childhood.
Mist clung to the wave tops. Green Siren’s prow swept a lane through the fog as the ship pushed across the sea.
Anusha was not a sailor, but she was the daughter of a shipping merchant. When she was a child, she’d spent years aboard the small fleet of craft Marhana kept. That familiarity allowed her to note the newer boards interspersed with original planking, the fresh sails, recently cleaned surfaces, and dozens of other small improvements to Green Siren’s demeanor. Anusha could tell that each repair had been done with masterful attention to detail.
The captain stood next to her, his weathered hands on the wheel.
If Lucky had been aboard, he would have been standing between them, probably licking Anusha’s hand looking for a treat. But she’d decided to leave the loyal hound at home, in the care of the servants. She’d become too attached to the mongrel to put him in harm’s way. It was different for her, the captain, and the crew. They knew what they were getting themselves into.
“So, what do you think?” said Thoster, nodding across the deck.
“Stonekeel’s work?” Anusha asked.
The captain smirked and nodded.
“You must have paid through the nose to get her on such short notice,” she said. “I can’t think of a shipwright with a longer backlog.”
“Karna Stonekeel and I go back, ’s all,” the captain said. “I paid her a king’s ransom, aye, but she owed me too.”
Anusha decided not to ask what the shipwright could possibly owe a pirate.
“Last time I put out of New Sarshell,” said the captain, “it was Japheth on deck, and you stowed away in the hold, not that I knew it then. With you up here this time, it makes me wonder; do you think we’ll find a warlock down there stuffed in a trunk?”
“You’re funny, Captain,” she said. She smiled at the ridiculousness of the image.
No, Japheth wasn’t on the ship. He was … where? If the wizard’s portal ritual had worked, he was deep in the Yuirwood, tracking down Malyanna.
Using the powers granted to him by his newly sworn star pact.
Anusha frowned.
“You all right lass?” asked Thoster.
Anusha drew in a breath, and nodded. “Just letting my mind reel out too far,” she said.
“Worried about the warlock?” the captain said.
She wasn’t worried in the way he guessed, but she nodded anyway.
“I wouldn’t,” Thoster said. “He’s no slouch, and he’s with Raidon too.”
“True,” she said.
“And, I hope he ain’t worrying about you; I’m here,” the captain added with a chuckle.
“Don’t forget Yeva,” she said.
“Your friend the walking statue?” the captain replied. “She likes it below, it seems.”
“Well, she doesn’t like to come on deck much because she’s afraid she’ll fall off and sink.”
The captain grinned.
“Also-just like you said about Raidon, I’m ‘no slouch’ either,” she said.
“Indeed,” Thoster replied.
Anusha laughed.
“Japheth,” mused the captain, “comes off as a fierce sort, at least on the surface. He once told me he could curse the heart out of a demon. Trying to ruffle my feathers by way of indirect threat, I think. But … I don’t doubt he could slay a demon just so, and probably not think twice about it.”
“I suppose,” said Anusha.
“But I think he’s proved he’d go the last mile for you,” the captain said.
“Yes. What’s it to you, pirate?”
“Well, I don’t mean to be nosy, but I have to wonder why he’s there”-the man pointed east-“and you’re here?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Anusha said.
The captain chuckled. “Mayhap,” he said. “But were I you, I wouldn’t throw a good thing away just to prove I could.”
Anusha snorted. “We each took on the task suited to our strengths,” she said. “Separating was the logical choice-we didn’t choose against the relationship, as you make it sound. It’s not an either-or. Being in love doesn’t mean you do everything together.”
The captain raised his hands. “My misunderstanding!” he said. “Didn’t mean to wrinkle your frock.”
“It’s all right,” Anusha replied.
But it unsettled her how the privateer had so casually pierced to the heart of the matter. Had she separated them for more than merely logical reasons?