Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

TRESSYA

The looming underbelly of the nightmare descended upon us. Amidst the guards' shouts, my heart surged with joy. Tamas. He must be alright. This had to be a sign he was recovered.

The agony in my head subsided as the nightmare took everyone's attention. Noticing his giant clawed feet flex, I knew what he intended to do. I pulled Gusselan, paralyzed in shock, toward me, hugging her close. "We're saved," I whispered in her ear, my voice trembling with the first hints of joyful tears, as huge scaly claws wrapped around us and scooped us off the ground.

Despite it being only my second time leaving the ground, fear overwhelmed me to where I couldn't even scream. Enfolded in Tamas's giant claws, with no view of the ground below and no way to gauge how high he flew—mercy to our fates for such luck—I squeezed my eyes shut, clung to Gusselan and attempted to find my calming breaths, but they eluded me.

Tamas's swift pace created ferocious winds, the chill slipping beneath my clothes to freeze my skin. The warmth of Gusselan's body kept me from turning to ice, and I was sure my fingers had frozen us in our embrace.

I kept my eyes closed tight and hoped the journey would be short. Such a giant creature would surely cover vast distances with only a few flaps of its wings.

Just when I thought I would survive this flight, I sensed Tamas lose height. Until now, the steady beat of his massive wings was like a gentle, relentless rhythm, assuring our safety, only now the rhythm faltered. I shrieked, my stomach feeling as if it had detached and was floating inside me as we plummeted for a beat, before Tamas found his rhythm again.

I had been mistaken; he wasn't all right, yet he had mustered the strength to save us. Now, however, his affliction resurfaced, placing Gusselan and me in grave danger. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her he was strong, that everything would be fine, and that we would escape, but my jaw felt frozen shut.

Tamas continued his faltering wing beats. All the while, I was sure we were losing height. Any minute we would skim the tops of the trees.

When we finally fell, released from his grasp, my jaw released, and I unleashed my scream. Our fall was brief, yet the landing was harsh, expelling the air from my lungs and sending shards of pain through my left shoulder and hip. I lost my grip on Gusselan and tumbled repeatedly before colliding with a fallen log.

Dazed, in pain, I lay still, feeling as though my head was still rolling.

Tamas. Gusselan. Were they both all right?

"Dammit," I spat when I attempted to sit up. My left side throbbed in agony and a high-pitch tune sounded in my left ear.

Gusselan wasn't far away, struggling to sit herself. I shuffled around further and saw Tamas, face down, laying in a patch of small purple flowers. Deathly still. "Tamas," I shouted, struggling to stand. On my feet, I wavered, my mind spinning in circles. Before I knew it, I hit the log and fell back onto my ass. Clutching my head as if it would help stop the spinning, I took a few breaths before daring to stand again.

I allowed myself two steadying breaths before I staggered toward Tamas. Passing Gusselan, I patted her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm alive," came her deadpan reply.

Tamas lay on his stomach, his head turned to the side, eyes shut. Resting my hand gently on his shoulder, I leaned down, comforted by his warmth breath on my cheek. "Tamas," I whispered into his ear, my voice barely audible as my heart seemed to cease its beat and an invisible claw constricted my throat.

I squeezed his shoulder when he didn't respond and called his name louder.

Please, wake .

"He's alive." I shouted to Gusselan, not realizing she was already standing over me. The nervous desperation in my voice did nothing to ease my knotted stomach.

"The flight has taken its toll. He'll improve, I'm sure." She reached down and squeezed my shoulder.

"He will," I nodded, accepting no other explanation.

A small voice in the back of my mind warned we were still in danger, but that voice was too insignificant to gain my attention when a mighty fist clawed at my heart. Tamas was alive, for now, but even Ryia was perplexed by his predicament.

"I rarely left the city limits. Henricus wasn't fond of the country. He was even less fond of the manor he gifted me. I supposed that's why he bothered. I've only been there a handful of times, and that was a long time ago, so I couldn't say where we are."

"Ryia?" I uttered, half listening to Gusselan. She needed to take him north to his witch. "We need to find Ryia."

"An impossible task when we don't even know where we are." Gusselan crouched beside me. "I can see he means a lot to you, but we have to think of ourselves. We have to keep moving. Head north. If we can find a village?—"

"No. I'm sorry, Gusselan, but you're asking me to do the impossible. I won't leave him like this. You don't have to stay. You can save yourself, but I can't go on until I know Tamas is safe."

She took my hand in both of hers. "Then I'll stay too. Perhaps we could try to move him further under the trees. I'm sure the Salmun will send out scouts."

I glanced around to see Tamas had crashed us into a clearing, the only place where he could fit the mountainous size of the nightmare.

"They keep monsters in Emberforge, in tunnels deep underneath the temple. That's what they'll use to hunt us down."

As I spoke, I scrutinized Gusselan's face for any hint of her thoughts, any sign that she regretted her choice to accompany me or her recent decision to stay by my side. But there was no shadow of regret. Instead, I saw the iron will and resilience of a woman who'd weathered hardship and loss, yet remained strong.

"Tamas is heir to the Bone Throne." I'd destroyed my friendship with my dearest friend because of my many omissions. Telling Gusselan the truth was the only way I knew how to make amends.

She glanced from Tamas to me. "Yes, now I remember you mentioned his name once before." She sighed. "You're quite the enigma." It wasn't praise because she didn't smile. "I don't know what to think of you."

"I can't change the past with words. Anything I say would be mere excuses. I'm guilty of so much that apologies alone are insufficient. But I give you my word, I will avenge your sons' deaths."

Gusselan nodded. "Before we escaped…"

I knew what she was going to ask. Perhaps it would make her hate me, if I told her. Regardless, I was committed to telling the truth. "It was Andriet."

"Andriet?" Her voice faltered.

"He wanted to prevent you from following me." He hurts because of me .

"You spoke to him."

"I'm a terrible disciple, but an excellent spiritweaver," I said through burgeoning tears.

Gusselan rose, palming her mouth as she turned her back on me, sparing herself the sight of me. Watching her pace through her emotions, I felt guilt spread its tendrils around my throat. I swallowed. I swallowed again, trying to ease the constriction, but there was no ridding the steel clamp of guilt's pernicious grip.

I opened my mouth, felt the banks burst, but said it anyhow. "He's been with you the whole time." The tears were a flood, impossible for me to hold back. "I brought him back with me from the Ashenlands because I couldn't bear?—"

She reared on me. "You don't know what you've done." Her voice swept over me like a chilling wind.

"I…" Her ire confused me.

"It's bad enough you disturbed the veil and brought forth an army of the dead, but to free a spirit from its death place…" She no longer paced, she stomped, feeding the earth her exasperation, clearly struggling with knowledge regarding the dead that I, as a spiritweaver, should possess.

"What do you know about spiritweaving?"

"Curse that harridan," she spat, deafened in her anger. "She didn't tell you. She's playing a deadly game that could destroy us all."

I rose to my feet. "I know I've done wrong. I understand there are consequences to disturbing the balance between the living and dead."

I spun, her anger driving her toward me. "And yet, you continued with your actions." She jabbed a finger at me. "I would prefer to believe you were simply na?ve," she scoffed.

"You weren't there. I had no choice." Loathed as I was to turn this into an argument, my voice rose.

"What about your choice when you freed my son from his death place?" Her tone thick with scorn.

"You're telling me you would have done differently?" I shouted.

"When the repercussions of our actions are greater than our shattered hearts," she responded with equal force.

Her pacing, her ire—it wasn't about the pain of her loss, and the terrible secret I'd kept from her, even though that was all that consumed my heart.

"It was the only way to win the war."

"If you wanted to win, why were you consorting with this northerner?" she yelled, jabbing her finger at Tamas.

"Because…" I swallowed, facing her wrathful judgement. "Because I'm a fool who lost her heart." The anger drained from my voice.

Her glare remained like shattered glass, sharp and piercing. In this she resembled the Mother—a heart brittle as glass.

The snap of a twig reverberated through the silent forest. Forgetting our argument, Gusselan and I both turned toward the sound. Through the trees, I caught fleeting glimpses of color and movement.

"Quick," I whispered. "We need to drag Tamas?—"

"It's too late," she hissed. "It's probably local folk investigating the noise."

Not local folk, but someone perhaps worse .

A female appeared, unlike any I'd ever seen—half-beast, half-human—flanked by the apostles and another man. Beside her, the apostles looked like children. Even the man, taller and broader than any ordinary male, reached as far as her shoulders. Eye catching was her mixed colored eyes, the left the color of syrup, the right deep bronze, as to the scar, a cruel slash from shoulder to elbow.

She scrutinized us before her gaze fixed on Tamas. Crying his name, she rushed to his side, and in that moment, I realized who she was. Ryia. I also grasped another crucial truth: she wasn't Razohan, but Huungardred. It had to be the witch's magic that granted her the complete form of a woman.

"It's a mercy we found you," Plesy said.

My gaze remained fixed on Ryia's misshapen form. Radnisa had told me about the Huungardred's inability to become fully human, but I'd struggled to envision the image in my mind. She also called it a curse. I saw nothing but strength and power; few would choose to displease someone possessing such formidable form.

"And we would have wandered for days without the aid of our companions," Selisimus added.

The man who'd arrived alongside Ryia drew my attention. He walked with the commanding presence of a Razohan, each powerful stride concealing the agility latent within his muscles. His features were handsome the way rugged cliffs and sharp, jagged mountain rangers were admired for their menacing beauty.

Tamas had mentioned something about leaving the apostles with a friend after we'd escaped the tunnels. In my haste to reach Emberfell and Gusselan, I'd not questioned him how it was a northerner had a friend in Tolum.

"Osmud." The man stepped forward, extending his hand while a frown marred his harsh features. This felt like a hostile welcome. "Never thought I'd meet you alive."

One apostle gasped, but I brushed aside his snide comment. Osmud was likely one of the Razohan who'd accompanied Tamas on that fateful night aboard the Sapphire Rose. It seemed he still believed my death was necessary.

I never harbored expectations of making friends, but I always anticipated having enemies. Maybe he would prove otherwise, but for now I would keep my eye on Osmud.

"Osmud," Ryia called.

Osmud dismissed me and went to Tamas's side.

"What happened to him?" Wellard said.

"We don't know—" I replied, joining Ryia and Osmud.

"I must take him to Romelda," Ryia announced.

"How long has he been like this?" Tortilus said, moving to stand over him and rising onto his toes for a better look.

"He's grown steadily worse," I said. "He should never have carried us here."

"There's a lot of things he should never have done," Osmud added, under his breath.

I ignored the veiled reference to Tamas keeping me alive. Tamas's safety and survival were more important than any provocation. Panic had dwelled low in my belly this entire day. Now it was alive, clawing its way up with bladed nails, tearing apart my insides in its wake .

"That's interesting," Tortilus said, overriding my urgency as he crouched beside Tamas and pulled his collar aside.

I strangled the urge to shove him aside.

Tortilus failed to elaborate as Plesy and Selisimus gathered around him. Wellard, standing behind them, peered over their shoulders.

"What's interesting?" Decorum gone, I shunted the three of them aside.

"This discoloration." He exposed more of Tamas's neck. "Look here."

Plesy gently nudged me aside. "Apologies, Tressya." He pointed at where I stood. "But I must see."

"And I," Selisimus remark.

Before I knew it, the three apostles moved me aside to inspect Tortilus's find.

"It is as I suspected?" Tortilus said.

"It's suspicious," Plesy said. "We must roll him over."

"What's suspicious? Tell me," I demanded.

"Well, it's possible," Plesy said, but lost track of his thoughts as Osmud eased Tamas onto his back, allowing Tortilus to lift the front of his shirt to his neck.

My gaze lingered on the face I'd grown to adore, and on lips I hungered to kiss once more. Why hadn't I succumbed to my impulse and leaped into his arms, kissing him with the violence of my joy the moment I saw him in the throne room? I pressed my hand to my lips, my need so intense it was as if I could almost feel his mouth against mine.

Tortilus's triumphant noise drew my gaze to the trail of black marks, like oily snail trails snaking across his chest. A terrible poison raced through his body, leaving a blackish tinge spreading out across his abdomen and chest in the trail of the black veining.

I gasped as I dropped to my knees beside Tamas.

"Malignant magic, Your Majesty," Tortilus said, and my distress was so great, I didn't bother to correct him.

"How did this happen?" Osmud demanded.

"I think he engulfed some of the Salmun in the tunnel," I replied.

Wellard made a strangled cough behind me, and Selisimus audibly inhaled.

"You were there. You knew our predicament. If he'd not done what he did, we'd be caught, dead or worse." Enslaved to the Salmun. Their judgement was unfairly given. I glared at each of the apostles, daring them to utter one more noise of disgust.

Satisfied each felt suitably chastised, I turned to Ryia, but caught Osmud's eye. I couldn't decide the true thoughts behind his gaze as he watched me. Neither did he seem bothered that I'd caught him staring at me.

He simply quirked a brow, then turned his attention to Tortilus. "What can we do about it?"

"We're minus our reference materials, but we're not entirely incapacitated without them."

"There are spells," Selisimus added. "Infections such as this, we know a few for those."

"Possession," Tortilus added.

"Yes, possession," Selisimus agreed. "There's a few spells we could perform for those."

"Poisoning," Plesy said. "It's well known the Salmun have black blood. "

"Romelda will know what to do," Ryia said.

Tortilus glanced over his shoulder at Ryia. "I'm afraid, my lady, he may not make it."

The beast side of Ryia's face remained an inscrutable riddle, but her lovely, syrupy colored eye flared wide in surprise upon hearing Tortilus use a respectful title.

"I can move faster than the wind," she growled.

"Perhaps we should let the witches of the north deal with this matter," Wellard said, sounding less than sure of their ability.

"It's best we begin work immediately," Selisimus said, frowning at Wellard.

Dammit. I would allow the apostles to work their magic, yet Wellard sounded unconvinced they could save him.

"No. We're vulnerable out in the open," Osmud announced.

"I have a manor in the north. Few know of its existence." Gusselan said. "If I knew where we were?—"

"I really think it may be for the best if we allow—" I began.

"He's dying," Tortilus snapped. "We need to begin treatment straight away." He fixed his gaze on me. "Delays give the poison time to spread, reducing our chances of success."

"But you're not sure what is happening to him. How do you know what spells to use?" I counted, though I was sure he was right in saying any delay drew Tamas's death closer.

"Tamas reached as far north as Meltonbea." Osmud rose his voice above us all, directing his attention on Gusselan. It was smart of him to do so. Bickering meant nothing of use was achieved .

"It's not much further. Iredale. The county abutting Meltonbea."

"This is madness. Let me take him across the border," Ryia cut in.

"Through the Ashenlands? How will you manage that?" I didn't mean to sound hostile. Without Ryia's aid, Tamas would still be in the king's garden, face down in the dirt, but this was a truth Ryia needed to consider.

"Romelda gave me a way," she replied, her voice slicing like a knife.

Romelda, the witch who wanted me dead; the witch, I would say, who sent Ryia south to succeed where Tamas had failed. If she cured Tamas, I would hold no ill-feelings toward her.

"The poison has already spread too far, and spreads further by the minute," Tortilus announced. "For his sake, we're best head straight for this manor and begin work on his healing straight away."

If what Tortilus said was true, Tamas didn't have time to cross the Ashenlands.

Wellard cleared his throat. "Perhaps Ryia is right about this Romelda."

"Nonsense, Wellard. The greater risk is the journey, when we're so close to this manor," Tortilus said.

"But, do we have the—?" Wellard said.

Tortilus looked to me. "Our knowledge of the healing arts is vast. We've studied the doctrines extensively?—"

"We don't have time for your sermon," I interrupted him.

One glance at Tamas, seeing his chest covered in the oily streams of poison, I turned to Ryia. "How fast can you reach the manor?"

I could tell from the expression on the human side of her face, the only side conveying any emotion I could read, Ryia was angry with my decision. After a moment of glaring at me, she surprised me with her reply. "Fast."

"How many can you carry?"

She glanced at the apostles. "Enough."

I respected her for yielding to my decision rather than wasting time fighting me. And for her love of Tamas, I forgave her murderous intentions. "Tortilus, how many of you do you need to perform your spells?"

"Plesy and myself, mostly. Though four is better than two."

"Ryia needs speed." Please, let this be the right decision.

I turned to Ryia. "Take the two apostles and Tamas. Osmud take Gusselan. She's show you the way to her manor. I assume she won't be too much for you." I couldn't help the sarcasm. Their priority was speed, so I wouldn't weigh Osmud or Ryia, asking them to carry anyone else.

He sneered at me. "As long as she doesn't pull out any of my fur."

"Then go."

"Your Majesty, what about you?" Selisimus said.

"I'm an added weight to slow Osmud and Ryia down and not important for this to work."

Again, I caught Osmud's impenetrable gaze on me. Then he focused on Gusselan. "I mean it. I don't take kindly to bald patches. "

"Then you'd better make sure the journey is smooth, Razohan."

He eyed her, then chuckled. When he turned back to me, his smile slipped. "It's best you keep moving in a northerly direction. We'll find you once we've settled Tamas."

I nodded, and we both held each other's gazes. Rather than disdain, dare I say there was a neutrality in the way he stared at me. For my part, I was grateful for his presence; thankful for the two Northerners amongst us.

The apostles yelped and skittered away when Ryia and Osmud transformed into magnificent beasts, standing as large as a horse, twice as wide, with powerful flanks rippling with coiled muscles ready to be away. Ryia, with the lush red streaks buried within her deep rich pelt, was intimidating in her colossal size.

"Come," I ordered the apostles. "Help me put Tamas on Ryia's back."

As a big man, Tamas was heavy, but with the aid of the four apostles, we positioned him awkwardly across Ryia's broad back. It was an ungainly pose, and he'd be humiliated were he conscious, but he was more secure that way.

"Don't let him fall," I admonished the two apostles before they took their place behind Tamas.

Then the two great beasts were away and my heart went with them, holding tight to the man I couldn't bear to lose.