Lady of Poison

CHAPTER 10

He pulled Briartan down from his cruel shackles. Marrec thought life had fled, but after feeling for a pulse, he detected a faint beat. He wondered if the time had come to use the last few healing spells he’d been saving up for a dire circumstance. Briartan was the only one around who could answer his questions. He glanced at Ashthe girl studied the supine form, but she made no move to use her healing gift. It was up to him then.

He mouthed the words of healing and touched the wounded druid’s forehead. The glowing blue threads of healing power rippled from Marrec’s arm and wound into Briartan’s body. Marrec could feel torn tissues knitting and depleted stores of energy rebounding, but he also immediately realized the truth. Briartan’s spirit was wounded to the core. The druid sought only release.

Marrec fought with Briartan’s desire. They battled to a temporary compromise. It was the best Marrec could accomplish. He had but one spell of healing remaining. He knew he must choose wisely when and how he would use it.

Briartan’s eyes fluttered open.

Elowen grabbed the fallen man’s hand. “You’re going to be all right, Briartan.”

Marrec quietly shook his hood, but Elowen didn’t see.

The wounded druid responded, “Elowen. I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. I’ve glimpsed higher realms and the promise of infinite plains of green…”

Elowen squeezed the druid’s hand “The world needs you here, Briartan. The blightlord is defeated. Stay with us, won’t you?”

The druid found the elfs eyes as she leaned over his prostrate form. He said softly, “I will answer your questions, that you may have some aid of me, but more than that I cannot promise.”

Elowen stifled a gasp, looking for confirmation from Marrec and found it in the’cleric’s sad nod. The elfs eyes began to shimmer with retained tears. She squeezed Briartan’s hand all the tighter.

Marrec began to phrase his questions internally, but Ususi moved in, undeterred by Marrec’s need or Briartan’s fragile-state.

She said, “What did Gameliel want here? How did he overcome your defenses of the Mucklestones?”

Briartan gave a weak chuckle. “Ususi, I knew I’d see you before the end. Too bad you couldn’t have arrived earlier. What does anyone want with the Mucklestones? Control. The kind of control one might gain if he had quick access to all corners of Faerun.” Briartan ended with a cough.

“How did Gameliel overcomeyou?” repeated Ususi.

“Why, he surprised me. He sent the sickened pine folk to me. I thought they were seeking a cure. I labored for days on reversing the rot which afflicted them, before I realized the truth; they would never be cured. What I didn’t realize was that their sickness was aimed like an arrow at me and my hospitality. By letting them breach the circle, I also allowed in Gameliel. He overcame me and wrested from me control over the Keystone.”

Ususi started, then rose from her haunches. She moved toward where Gameliel had last stood.

“Briartan?” Elowen breathed. “Are you in too much pain?”

The druid turned his head so that his gaze could rest more easily on the hunter. “Ah, Elowen, don’t be sad. I am so glad that you are here, that you are here to see me off. Please, explain my fate to the Nentyarch who sits-in-exile in Yeshelmaar. The Nentyarch must know what has happened here:”

“Yeshelmaar?” she blurted.

“You’ve been away from the fold for quite some time, then, Elowen?” ventured Briartan. He continued, “Yes, seek both the Council of Lethyr and the Nentyarch in Yeshelmaar. Bring him the Keystone.”

Marrec wanted to ask his own questions, but Elowen needed a moment with her friend. He glanced up to see what Ususi was doing. The mage was crouched, studying the scattered debris of the blightlord’s possessions.

Elowen, trying to keep the druid engaged, said, “I’d hoped that the Nentyarch was still in the Rawlinswood. If he’s taken a seat in Yeshelmaar, it must mean the Rotting Man was too strong for even the Nentyarch. When I left on my mission, Yeshelmaar was being prepared as a possible seat-in-exile. I hoped it would not come to pass.” She bit her lip then asked, “Briartan, was Gameliel acting as an emissary of the Rotting Man?”

“You know he was, and he is but the least of the blightlords who give their allegiance to the Talontyr. Anammelech’s unnatural tread causes the forest to shiver, and Damanda is nearly a power in her own right, yet she has the ear of the Rotting Man.” The conversation was fast sapping the druid’s last reserves of strength. Briartan’s eyes began to stray upward, attempting to focus on vistas invisible to the living.

“Briartan,” Marrec jumped in, realizing the druid was close to departing, “I have traveled far seeking answers. The goddess Lurue, who you may know, is losing contact with many of her servants, me included. My quest is to renew that connection. My quest has led me first to this strange child, who we call Ash, and also the Child of Light, and now to you. It seems that, for reasons I don’t understand the Rotting Man wants the girl. More than that, I need to know who this girl is, and why she is important to Lurue. Do you have any answers for me, great druid?”

Briartan considered Marrec’s speech a moment before responding. Then he said, “I know of Lurue, the Unicorn Queen. She may have quieted her connection to you, but if she has, it is most assuredly for a good reason. It is strange, thoughI do not sense that all connections of the Unicorn Queen and the world have weakened as yours has. You must seek the Nentyarch for your answershe has time I lack.” Briartan paused, straining to gather more breath. His color, briefly renewed by Marrec’s craft, was failing once more.

Ash wandered up of her own accord and fixed the dying druid with her guileless stare.

Seeing her, Briartan’s eyes widened. “This is the child?”

Marrec nodded.

Briartan made a reverent sign with a shaking hand. He said, “Yes, she is special; I can see that with even my failing eyes. Keep her safe, unicorn warrior. One day, this Child of Light will answer to the Rotting Man’s depredations.” He broke into a fit of coughing. The druid’s time was drawing to a close.

Briartan’s cough subsided. He fixed his gaze straight up. At last he whispered, “The cycle of life may not be denied. Death gives way to life, and life…”

The druid’s gaze remained fixed even as his breath whispered away, rising in to penetrate the boughs and branches that hid the clearing from the sky above. Never more would the wisdom of the druid of Lethyr grace the forests.

Marrec closed Briartan’s eyes. A tear traced a path from Elowen’s full eyes down her cheek. She spoke then in the language of the elves.

Though Marrec knew only a few fragments of the sylvan tongue, it seemed that Elowen was asking for blessings and aid to Briartan’s spirit from a series of elven deities and great spirits of the forest.

When she finished, Elowen stood. She said simply, “He will be missed,” then walked to the edge of the clearing, seeking solace in the unContaminated growth beyond the stone circle.

Later, they laid Briartan to rest according to the rites of elves and druids. When finished with that solemn duty, the five rested in the bowl of the Mucklestones. Already the rot and crusted growths that had overtaken the stone circle were receding. The power of the stones was greater than that of the Rotting Man, at least without one of his blightlord emissaries present.

Gunggari had offered condolences to Elowen earlier, but the wisdom of Osse was apparently too gruff for the elven palate. Elowen continued to sit, facing away from the rest of the group, staring into the trees.

Ususi spoke up, after a long silence. “Briartan was my friend, too, in his own way. He allowed me my researches. I will continue in your company, if you’ll have me.” She looked up, meeting Marrec’s eye.

Marrec raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d go back to Two Stars. The Mucklestones are clear.”

“If I’m not welcome, then Two Stars is where I’ll go, of course,” responded Ususi.

“Don’t misunderstand me; there is nothing I’d like better than your aid,” said Marrec, trying to keep his voice from sounding testy. “I’ve rarely seen your skill with wizardry equaled. Plus, we enjoy your company.”

Out of sight of Ususi, the Oslander cocked his head. Marrec read it as a sign of amusement.

“Good!” exclaimed Ususi, smiling, which was an event in and of itself. “Then I have good news. I can get us to Yeshelmaar quickly over the course of a single march.”

Elowen finally broke her silence, saying “Via the Mucklestones?”

Ususi nodded, “I can reroute one of the main portal lines from here to there. With the Keystone, once in the keeping of Briartan, I can do it with little effort.” The woman produced a polished, amber colored stone with a natural looking hole piercing its center. The stone was strung on a leather thong. As Ususi handled it, the stone brightened, giving off a glow all its own.

Elowen gave Ususi an appraising look.

Ususi said, “I know, Elowen. I know. The Keystone shall go back to the keeping of the Nentyarch, but we shall reach the Nentyarch all the sooner if I use it, even without his blessing.”

“So be it,” said the elf.

Gunggari spoke up, “Shall we leave immediately?”

“It will take more than a few minutes to set up our route. I must make preparations using the Keystone. The dimensional referents must be navigated then posted.”

Marrec lifted an eyebrow and put on exaggerated expression of confusion. For his trouble, he received a flicker of amusement from the mage. She realized, just perhaps, that her language might be perceived as slightly humorous to those who had not the slightest idea of what it meant. Progress, Marrec hoped.

Ususi rose and approached the perimeter of the circle. She moved to stand between the gap in two stones that faced generally west. She grasped the Keystone, which then glowed with light as strong as a torch but steadier. Ususi held it in the palm of her left hand. She closed her eyes, standing quietly. After a few minutes of studying the mage’s preparations, Marrec realized there probably wouldn’t be any other signs of Ususi’s mystical navigation, or was she ‘posting,’ whatever that meant?

He pulled himself to his feet and approached Ash. The girl sat on the grassy floor of the bowl staring at her hands, as she had been doing for the last several minutes. Marrec pulled out her bedroll and gently laid the child down for a nap. Without complaint, the child sighed and fell into a light sleep. He lightly touched the girl’s face with the back of his hand, considering her plight.

“What’s your part in all this?” Another thought struck him. “Who are your parents, little one? Your real parents, I mean. I bet they’re worried about you. A parent always worries…”

Ash began to snore, very light, but audibly and endearing. ‹§›SSSS

Young Marrec’s mind reeled at Thanial’s revelation.

Who… what? Snakes? He scrubbed at his head, feeling again the scars hidden by his hairline. His fingers shrank from the touch.

A dark bubble rose from the shrouded recesses of his consciousness, prodded by Thanial’s words. The bubble popped. Images and feelings of a forgotten childhood flooded the young man.

… He was happy. He scampered down a forest path, screaming in childish delight, clutching his rattle. He was playing his favorite game with Aunt Sthenno. Hide and Seek! He laughed and dived beneath a holly bush.

“Where are you, little one?” called the voice of his aunt, farther up along the path.

Young Marrec managed to stifle a giggle. He squirmed back beneath the bush. Aunt Sthenno had been known to miss him before. Not so Aunt Euryale. That’s why he didn’t play Hide and Seek any more with her. She was no fun.

Mother never played. She left games for her two sisters. She was always involved in her work, though she made time for her boy for an hour every night. Sometimes she spoke wistfully to Marrec about his dear departed father, but Marrec was too young to understand her meaning. His aunts never liked it when Mother brought up that topic, responding with, “It could never have worked, sister. He was not of our kind. He was so vulnerable.” That only made Mother sad. For little Marrec, it was just more talk that he was too young to comprehend.

“Are you… here?” Sthenno was still a little way down the path. She was looking under a stone she had pried up with her foot. With an effort of will more concentrated than he’d thought possible, young Marrec managed to keep from laughing at his aunt’s antics. She moved a little farther down the path and peered into the tiny knothole of a tree. “Here?” The boy clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from chortling aloud.

Sthenno frowned, then moved quickly back the way she’d come. He’d fooled her. Usually, Marrec betrayed his spot with some small noise of childish glee. He grinned, then settled back to wait more comfortably.

It might have been the extra comb of honey he’d taken without Mother’s knowledge earlier or perhaps the warm, pleasant day with a cooling breeze that kept him from becoming too hot. Whatever the reason, he fell into a doze, then a true sleep, all cares falling from his child mind.

When Marrec finally startled awake, it was dark. More than that, it was cold, and a night mist had sprung up all around, making the path hard to see and effectively blurring all the points of familiarity that the child had recognized before sleep claimed him.

He didn’t like the dark.

Then he couldn’t avoid making a small noise, but of alarm, not amusement. The importance of not wandering off had been impressed upon him on several occasions. As far as wandering out in the dark, he’d been explicitly forbidden it, yet there he was. Mother would be so angry!

He broke from his hiding spot then stopped. It really was dark, so dark he couldn’t really see where the path lay. He guessed and began walking. When he stumbled into a tree, he began to cry whole-heartedly, no more half-measures on that front. He bawled for his mother.

He imagined her coming upon him just then. She’d tell him it was all right and take him home. She’d reach down, pick him up, and carry him as she so often did. He would run his fingers through her soft hair, avoiding the thicker, coiling lengths with a fierce life all their own.