The fungus-reef capital was lit with supplemental bright panels. Overhead, racks of spotlights shone down over the settled area, which provided enough illumination to give Osira’h strength.
The green priests refused to leave the planet, but Peter and Estarra issued orders for offworld diplomats to evacuate. The Ildiran trade ministers and ambassadors slipped away on the first ship, and the green priests had spread word of the crisis throughout the Confederation, even to the Ildiran Empire.
Osira’h insisted on remaining with Reyn, even though he begged her to go. She was just as worried about him as he was about her. His sister was off on another continent, but they had word that Arita was as safe as any of them were.
But none of them were safe.
Three times in the past several days, black robot ships had launched from the shadow cloud on a sortie against the CDF defenses, but it was mere harassment. The robot ships swooped in and opened fire, paying little attention to their own safety. Two verdani battleships surprised a pair of robot vessels, opening powerful thorny branches to embrace them, crush them, and tear them into ragged debris, while the rest of the robot ships retreated.
The main attack on Theroc, however, was simply the darkness. By blocking off all sunlight and engulfing the world in endless night, the Shana Rei were crippling and starving the great worldtrees. An impressive tactical plan, too, Osira’h realized—it allowed the Shana Rei to obliterate the powerful verdani mind at very little cost to themselves. To her, that meant the worldtrees must pose a threat, and the Shana Rei were weak enough to fear them. But the nightshade would do the work of crippling the verdani for them.
Rlinda Kett had remained on Theroc, supposedly to watch over her Arbor restaurant. She made herself visible and available, bringing fresh meals down into the main fungus-reef. She and her maître d’ Zachary Wisskoff delivered a cart laden with soup tureens and spicy fruit salads she had made from the supplies in her kitchens. The maître d’ looked gaunt and skittish, but he refused to evacuate, perhaps so he could sneer at the situation.
Reyn had introduced Osira’h to the hearty Rlinda, who embraced the young man with an all-enfolding hug. “Glad to see you, Raindrop, but also sorry you’re here.” She lowered her voice. “Any progress? Did you find what you needed?”
“I’ve been to see more doctors, and I have tests, but no answers. Lots of people are working on it, though. Oh, and I did tell my parents. They know how sick I am.”
“About time. They’ll do everything they can to get this figured out.”
“Osira’h has helped me a lot, too.” He slipped an arm around Osira’h’s waist, which seemed to thrill Rlinda more than anything.
“Now that’s the kind of help you need.” She opened the tureen of soup, sniffed as she stirred. “Mr. Wisskoff, did you bring the good bowls?”
“Not at all, ma’am. Just recyclable ones. Or did you expect me to wash them? Most of our staff departed on the first evacuation ships.”
With an extravagant sigh, Rlinda found serviceable bowls and presented soup to Reyn and Osira’h. “The flavor should be enough to command your attention.”
Wisskoff served food around the table in the main meeting room, where the King and Queen were studying reports. Peter thanked them. Wisskoff muttered, “Will those be on separate checks?”
Rlinda gave him a withering glance. “Do it for the gratitude.”
“I’ll be sure to inform our creditors that we will be paying all future invoices with ‘gratitude,’ ma’am.”
Osira’h didn’t entirely understand their teasing banter, but she sensed that they were hiding their worry by keeping busy and contributing their support in the best way they knew how. Reyn still kept his arm around Osira’h, who leaned closer against him; they seemed to generate strength for each other just by being in close proximity.
Inside the meeting chamber, several green priests looked frail as they huddled over their treelings, touched the verdani mind, and tried to prepare for the worst. The whole worldforest was weakening—and no effort on a human scale could save them.
“It happened before, and we survived,” said one of the priests in the throne room. “All but the smallest portion of the worldforest was wiped out, and yet the trees survived to thrive again.”
Queen Estarra wore her traditional garments, like the ones her mother Alexa had worn. “Much of Theroc was devastated, but the trees came back.”
The green priest shook his head. “That was the recent war. I was referring to something much worse—a battle far, far in the past.” He touched the treeling again, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Theroc is not the original home of the worldforest. That was destroyed, and the… Gardeners were made extinct.” He looked up, surprised by what he had just discovered. A stir rippled through his fellow green priests as they realized the new hint of information that had just been revealed to them.
“Who were the Gardeners?” Peter asked. “Can you tell us more about that battle?”
“Long before humans became green priests, there were… others. Gone now. Smothered by the Shana Rei.”
Listening, Osira’h looked at Prince Reyn. “The Shana Rei nearly destroyed the Ildiran Empire as well. Fear of them is etched deep within us, a permanent scar on our psyches.” Her eyes flashed as she drew herself up, and she felt her feathery strands of hair twitch with energy as her determination grew. “But we are in a different situation now. We have new skills. We have me.” She gasped Reyn’s hand. “Take me to the treetops. I need to see the sky, look out at the stars, and focus my thoughts.” She flexed her hand, felt the still-tender burns on her fingers, focused on the pain. “Maybe I can summon the help we need to solve this problem.”
Curious, Reyn took her above the fungus-reef city, and they emerged onto the dense polymerized canopy. A few evacuating ships still glinted in the sky, hot exhaust trails rising to orbit. Osira’h sat with him in the soft, spongy embrace of interlocked worldtree fronds. Deprived of nourishing sunlight for days, the leaflets drooped, the color washed out of them.
Reyn looked worried, with a faint sheen of sweat on his face. “All the Shana Rei have to do is wait. This darkness will be the death of the worldtrees.”
“Not necessarily.” Osira’h had never been able to feel the trees the way her green priest mother did, but she was aware of the verdani presence. Now, as she looked up at the mocking stars, she used her telepathic powers and her understanding of the great forces of the universe to call upon other entities.
Osira’h summoned the faeros, begged them. With her open mind, she showed them the threat, called upon her past connection with them. Though she couldn’t see into the thoughts of the fiery elementals, she felt the awakening, the awareness, the response. The sparks grew brighter in her mind.
She turned to Reyn. “They are coming.”
Osira’h asked him to stay with her, and they sat together for hours in the deepening cold of the continuous night. They watched the dark sky until she saw bright lights like distant fireflies drawing closer. She rose to her feet, and Reyn stood with her, his face filled with questions.
Before long, dozens of the fireballs appeared, blazing ellipsoids that rolled along spouting a corona of flames. They roared across the Theron sky, crackling and sending out waves of palpable heat. Like miniature suns, they shone their light over the darkened forest.
Green priests ran to the canopy, shouting in fear and confusion. Osira’h, though, was not afraid. “The faeros aren’t here to attack,” she assured Reyn. “I asked them to help us.”