—They come ... the Fay ... come ... there—
On impulse, he tried calling up words in Shade’s mind.
—Can you take me ... to this place?—
A brief pause passed.
—Yes—
He turned instantly to Wayfarer.
—Shade ... and I ... will go— ... —You ... remain ... here— ... —Please open ... the door—
He would not expose Wayfarer to his kin for anything, no matter that it appeared Vreuvillä somehow communed with his kin for unknown reasons. Chap could not help wondering of what the priestess might be capable and what she had been teaching the girl.
With a troubled expression, Wayfarer opened the door to let them out.
Chap slipped into the night streets, following his daughter.
Inside the small room that Chane shared with Ore-Locks, he set down the chest he carried. His skin felt as if insects crawled all over him. It had begun the moment he had driven their wagon across the grassy plain to enter the forest.
He had been to this land before, and he had not forgotten its effects upon him as an undead, even while wearing the “ring of nothing.” No undead could enter lands protected by Chârmun or one of its “children.” The forest would sense such an intruder, confuse it with madness and fright, and the majay-hì would come to pull it down and slaughter it.
Chane had known what to expect, but he had forgotten how bad it would become, even with his special protection.
The moment the wagon passed into the trees, he had begun to feel ... something.
A nervous twitch squirmed through his body. Then a tingling, annoying itch began swarming erratically over his skin. With no breeze, he had still felt a sensation like dust blown over his exposed face and hands.
The prickling grew.
The forest did not fully sense him, but it sought to do so. It examined him and would not stop, because it could not quite determine what he was. This would continue until he once again passed into the outer plain beyond the trees.
The forest’s probing raised another, greater concern.
“Are you all right?” Ore-Locks asked.
Chane did not answer. “I have to go back out,” he said.
Ore-Locks set down his chest next to Chane’s. “Now?”
“There is something I must gather that can only be found here.”
“Should I come with you?”
“No, stay, guard the orbs. If you come, we will have to ask Osha or Chap to watch over them, and that would bring more questions. My task is ... private.”
Ore-Locks frowned. “We have already talked about you and your secrets.”
“Not secret, but private. There are flowers that only grow here that I used up in making the healing concoction. I want to gather more.” He paused and decided not to mention—for the moment—that such could also be used as a poison against the undead.
“Do you still trust me?” he asked.
Ore-Locks crossed his arms. “You know I do. Get on with it, but try not to take too long.”
Chane left his personal pack and took only Welstiel’s old one as he left.
Chap followed Shade down the same path he had taken that day with Osha and Ore-Locks. Soon enough, and well before spotting the glow of Chârmun ahead, Shade cut into the undergrowth, and the going became much harder while he kept as silent as possible.
Tonight, they could not attract attention from other majay-hì—or Vreuvillä.
By Shade’s actions, she clearly knew this, though Chap wondered what she knew about the wild woman’s teachings and influence over Wayfarer. He tried to push aside such worries as they kept on and on through dark, tangled, wild places.
Chap began to lose his sense of time when Shade dove through a wall of foliage. He followed and was soaked by clinging moisture before he stepped out beside her on the edge of a clearing. Across the way stood a circle of aspens amid a soft glow.
Other than that, there was no way to know why this place was kept secret or how it had come to be. He had to trust that Shade knew more than she shared upon realizing what he had intended to do. Now he hesitated in remembering Wayfarer’s memory of the priestess standing at the center of the aspens.
He was no ... whatever she was, but he was Fay reborn in a Fay-descended body.
Chap stalked an arc in approaching the aspens but did not enter. Shade followed behind on his left. He stared about into the darker forest all around.
I am here, come for you! Answer me!
He had done no wrong in not bending to their unspoken fears. They had carved up, torn, and stolen memories at his birth into flesh. They had tried to kill Wynn. He would not cower and grovel before his kin.
A breeze began to build in the forest.
Mulch upon the clearing’s floor churned around his paws.
Fallen leaves rose slowly in a column that turned around him and Shade, illuminated by the aspen circle’s light. The forest around them appeared to darken even more, and in that dark, branches appeared to writhe in ways the wind could not have caused.
Chap heard his daughter’s shuddering growl laced with a whine that did not stop. He waited, listening to the creak of shuddering branches settle into the crackle of leaves. The rustling chatter suddenly echoed and shaped inside his mind.
What now ... deviant? You failed to keep the sister of the dead safe in ignorance. So what more do you wish to know ... and ignore?
This had always been their goal, to keep Magiere from any possibility of fulfilling the reasons for her creation: to serve the Ancient Enemy, to lead the undead hordes, and to walk in all lands, even those enchanted against the undead.
His kin did not acknowledge how much she had fought this in using her birthright against the minions of the Enemy.
Still, Chap was uncertain what final purpose she had been intended to serve. Another war upon the world had to be focused upon a goal other than destruction and death for the sake of it.
And then there was what he had sensed within two orbs so far.
He would not let his kin bait him into justifications. Yes, he had his sins, but not the ones they tried to put upon him.
Tonight, he would ask the questions.
What are the orbs—the anchors? How were they created and how are they used?
Only the wind’s hiss and the chatter of branches answered him. He pressed on.
What answers—memories—did you rip away from me when I chose to be born?
Gusts blew through the clearing, and though he heard Shade snarl, he did not move or look away from the surrounding trees. The hiss of leaves grew to a crackle as a chorus of leaf-wings buzzed like a hornet’s nest in his head.
His kin spoke.
Where is your charge? Have you fallen so far as to abandon her? And now you corrupt your own misbegotten flesh by straying so far from your path!
Chap snarled as he answered.
Do not speak of corruption to me or of keeping those with me in ignorance and from taking any side in what is coming. Now the Enemy awakens again ... and again you do nothing, as you likely chose a thousand years ago.
There was a pause and then ... Leave the enslaved alone.
Chap’s thoughts blanked. What did that mean?
The wind began to die. Darkness started to yield to the aspen ring’s glow. Branches in the forest settled in silence as the torn leaves fluttered to the earth. Everything fell silent.
Chap rushed to the forest’s edge. Come back ... and face me!
No answer came. They were gone, and he had achieved nothing—learned nothing. There was only a hint in what might have been a tiny slip.