Of Truth and Beasts

“He lives,” Wynn said plainly. “And for his unnaturally long years, he remains convinced the Enemy will return. There are others who’ve come to believe this, as well ... even when they’ve denied so to my face!”

She stepped forward.

“We have to reach Bäalâle Seatt before anyone else learns what we’re after. If you can’t help us, I won’t waste your time anymore.”

Wynn turned away. About to step past Shade and out of the tree, a soft chuckle halted her and she turned.

Vreuvillä smiled at her and sighed tiredly.

“Child, you speak of things too openly, as if ...” and she trailed off, looking about her chamber. “But if nothing else, obviously you do not follow in that heretic’s footsteps.”

“No, I don’t.”

“There are proper ways ... for speaking of such matters.”

Vreuvillä reached for a bowl and pitcher on a shelf, and then began gathering pinches from varied jars. The chamber’s air filled with a cacophony of herbal scents.

“You will wait here while I go for more water,” she instructed. “Do not utter another word about this purpose until I return.”

She slipped past Shade and outside. As the entrance drape settled, Chane struggled to his feet.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. “We know nothing about this woman. Why did you tell her so much?”

His face was still covered in a sheen, and the fingers of his right hand flexed over his left forearm, as if just barely refraining from peeling off his skin. Whatever Vreuvillä had given him hadn’t lasted long.

“She already knows,” Wynn answered. “Weren’t you watching her? She knows of the an’Cróan. Even when she challenged me about Most Aged Father ... she already knew about him.”

“A guess,” he snarled. “And now what? We wait in some unknown place for some unknown woman to do ... what? Make us an herbal tea before giving us any information at all, let alone something of use?”

“Sit down and be silent,” Ore-Locks told him.

Chane spun on the dwarf, but Wynn grabbed his arm.

“This forgotten priestess might well have what we need,” Ore-Locks continued. “If she serves us a feast of stones, you will swallow every pebble and thank her. We have nowhere else to turn.”

Wynn hesitated. “He’s right, Chane.”

This was all they had. And now that they were alone, she needed to know if Shade had picked up anything from ...

“Oh, not again!” she breathed.

Shade was gone. She must have followed Vreuvillä, though why was another unanswered question.

“Stay here,” Wynn ordered Chane. “I’ll bring Shade in and—”

“No,” Ore-Locks and Chane said in unison.

Chane took hold of Wynn’s belt, adding, “Not without me.”

She jerked around, trying to break his grip, and failing. “Shade has figured out ... certain things for us. What makes you think the pack couldn’t do the same for that woman? You’re not going anywhere, and I am going after Shade.”

She looked to Ore-Locks and pointed her finger at Chane. “You stay in here and watch him. Sit on him if you have to.”

Before Chane could react, Wynn pulled the cinch on her belt, and it slipped in Chane’s grip. She slapped the entrance drape aside, but as she ran into the gully, she stalled.

Not a single majay-hì remained in sight.

The place was completely abandoned. Then Wynn spotted Shade’s charcoal black tail disappearing through a shuddering bush at the gulley’s far end. She thought she heard other rustlings out there, as well.

If Shade had left to go after the pack, then was Vreuvillä up to more than just preparing herbal tea?

Wynn glanced back once at the tree dwelling, and then ran down the gully and thrashed into the underbrush. 

The tâshgâlh hung upside down from the lowest branch of the great fir tree—right above its draped entrance. And Sau’ilahk watched, as well, through its inverted perspective.

Wynn bolted into the forest’s undergrowth.

He had heard every word the little sage had recklessly expelled. All his scantest hopes had been revealed, spilling from her lips like the sweetest pomegranate wine of his lost, living days. She was convinced that an anchor—an “orb” as she called it—lay hidden in a place called Bäalâle Seatt. She had actually found someone who might point the way.

For all Wynn’s tight-lipped secrecy, even with her own companions, she had told this pagan priestess of false ways more than any of Sau’ilahk’s servitors had ever acquired. How astonishing were the things this one troublesome little sage knew? Still, there was more waiting.

Once he learned the location of what he desired, a pause would come. He would linger long enough in the plain beyond the forest to greet Wynn Hygeorht properly. She would pay with her life for all of her interference. That joyful appetizer would initiate the greater sustenance for his long-held desire—the key to reclaiming flesh.

Chane Andraso would pay as well, by watching her die.

But that hidden undead and the wayward stonewalker were still within the tree.

For an instant, Sau’ilahk was uncertain of losing track of all those involved. Then the tâshgâlh shot along the forest branches, as it raced after Wynn.

Chapter 15