me pause,' she said. 'What exactly is this?'
The priest looked thoughtful as he finished a bite, then he said, 'I think it's some sort of fermented moss.' Kashada nodded and had a bite halfway to her mouth when he added, 'But it also might be caterpillar flesh.'
Kashada did make a face, then, and she set the food back down uneaten. 'I am no longer hungry,' she said as gently as she could. 'Perhaps one of you two would like to finish mine? I think I'd like to rest for a bit, now.'
Myshik had his face pressed against his leaf, licking the last dregs of the paste from it. 'I'll take yours,' he said. He leaned over and snatched the leaf from her lap and began devouring it.
Zasian laughed. 'Suit yourself,' he said. 'There will be plenty to eat that's more to your liking when we get where we are going next.'
Kashada rose to her feet and glared down at the priest. 'Just let me know when it's time to go,' she said, hoping her sour tone conveyed her overall displeasure. 'The sooner, the better.'
At a word from Zasian, two of the dryads took Kashada by the hands. The mystic allowed them to lead her out of the overcrowded hut. She was forced to tread carefully so as to avoid stepping on anyone's feet. She followed her escort along a curving, swaying rope bridge to another shelter.
Not rope, Kashada realized as she ran her hand along one of the flexible rails of the bridge. What is this? Woven silk? Webbing? How odd!
The dryads showed her into the hut, where a soft mat made of more of the thick, soft leafy material lay in the middle of it. They gestured and said several things, but Kashada just tried to smile and nod, then shooed them out of her way.
She lay down on the mat, and weariness washed over her at once. She had not realized how exhausted she was until that moment. She knew she would not be able to sleep so long as the constant, silvery glow of the environment intruded on her. The chattering dryad dinner party a stone's throw away only made it worse.
Kashada gestured and muttered a phrase of arcane power. The illusory shadows surrounding her grew and thickened. She gestured again, and the shadows wrapped themselves around her like a cocoon. Once safely inside their embrace, Kashada smiled and drifted off.
Kashada did not know how long she had slept when she came awake to gentle shaking. Disorientation made her start, but she gathered her wits quickly and unfurled her shadows to see who was disturbing her rest.
Zasian loomed over her. 'It's time,' he said softly. 'There is work to do.'
Kashada sat up, rubbing her eyes. 'Very well,' she said. 'Give me a moment to collect myself.'
Zasian rocked back and stood up. 'Take a few moments,' he said. 'Myshik and I are journeying on ahead, but I want you to remain behind for a bit longer.'
Kashada gave the priest a sharp glare. 'What scheme are you concocting? This was not part of our plan.'
Zasian gestured in the air, trying to reassure her. 'I only want to get a little bit ahead, so that our guides cannot see what you are doing.'
Kashada did not stop glaring. 'And what would that be?'
Zasian smiled. 'I want you to leave behind a little surprise for our pursuers,' he said. 'Something to make sure they don't catch up too fast, but also to make it clear that they are on the right path.'
Kashada thought for a moment, then she returned the priest's smile. 'I think I know just what to do.'
Zasian and Myshik departed with a pair of dryads to guide them along their way. Before leaving, the priest had explained to the remaining dryads that Kashada wished to remain for a while longer in order to learn how to prepare the fermented moss.
You will pay for that, Kashada fumed. She watched as her companions departed, then she turned to her hosts. They had gathered together, cooking supplies in hand, and awaited her with eager, expectant expressions. She resisted rolling her eyes and motioned for them to begin.
The dryads swarmed around, chattering and laughing incessantly. Kashada pretended to watch. She began a spell, keeping her movements subtle and whispering the arcane words. The shadows draped across her body darkened and spread out. They grew thicker, more rigid, more substantial. They cocooned her body, but unlike before, when she had manipulated them merely to aid in her rest, the new ones hardened and formed a shell of darkness. She breathed another phrase, and the gloom deepened. It began to glow very faintly in the silvery light of the plane, a purple hue that was nearly black.
One of the dryads stopped her work and stared at Kashada, mouth agape. When she noticed the mystic returning her gaze, her eyes grew wide and she cowered, shouting something in a shrill voice. The other fey creatures halted their tasks. Some watched their guest, dumbfounded, while others began to scramble to escape her presence.
Kashada smiled, then she laughed. 'It's much too late for that,' she said. Then she uttered the final phrase of her spell.
The purple-black shadows expanded from her body in a great sphere. The dryads shrieked and tried to flee. One attempted to meld into the great branch upon which the tree-house had been constructed. Another dived toward an open window to escape. Most of the rest flailed and clamored to slip through the doorways.
None were fast enough.
The blackness engulfed all of the dryads. Its boundary soared outward, catching each and every one of the elflike women in its embrace. They wailed and babbled in their odd, woodland language and staggered around, blind. Kashada laughed, for she could still see. The world had turned a beautiful, shadowy plum to her eyes.
One dryad shuffled toward Kashada, a small dagger in her hand. The dryad felt for the woman, and Kashada did nothing to evade her. When her hand brushed against Kashada's arm, the dryad stabbed at her, trying to ram the dagger deep into the mystic's flesh.
The blade struck shadowstuff and snapped.
The dryad wailed in dismay and fell away again.
The dryads thrashed and flailed as the arcane gloom did its work. Tendrils of the stuff wrapped around limbs, encircled waists, coiled around necks. It grappled with those trapped inside it, enveloping them with darker, firmer umbra.
Kashada laughed as the fey fought against the snaking tendrils. She smiled as the one who had tried to stab her clutched at her own throat, gasping for breath. Kashada walked among them, watching in delight as one by one the dryads' struggles grew weaker, then stopped altogether. The shadowstuff continued to wind itself around them like black, gauzy funeral wrappings. Tighter and tighter it wove, until each dryad was nothing more than an oblong lump of black within the purple nightworld Kashada had created with her magic.
Finally, the spell finished its work and vanished, returning the surroundings to their original silvery hue and brightness. Kashada sighed. She had so enjoyed watching the transformation. It had been particularly satisfying to see the wretched fey succumb to her magic. She was only sorry there hadn't been more of them to ensnare. All in all, though, she was content.
She spoke, then, in a language few would understand in the normal world. Her voice carried, ringing loudly and clearly to pierce the veils of shimmering shadow that still surrounded the dryads. 'My pets,' she said, 'I have a task for you. Others come along the path that I followed to arrive here. You will wait and watch for them, and when they appear, you will destroy them.'
Before she left, Kashada took up flint and steel and ignited a bit of tinder. She then lit an oil-soaked rag wrapped around one of her long-bladed daggers and walked among the tree houses, setting them ablaze. She fired the strange, silky ropes that made up the bridges and ladders. She looked back once and watched as the little dryad community became charred ruins.
Kaanyr sat cross-legged and stared at the ground. The sullen glare he had leveled at his two guards had done nothing to make him feel any better, so he gave it up. That and the fact that holding his head up while it was encased in so much iron exhausted him. The strange harness held a thick metal brank in place in his mouth, keeping his tongue flattened so that he had no way of speaking. Kaanyr's jailors had locked the thing behind his head, where he could not see.
Even if he could study the security, it wouldn't make a difference. Thick leather bags wrapped tightly around
