“I know.” With a quick glance at L’zar, who’d stepped closer than any of them to the ring of blackened earth to study it with his usual objective apathy, Cazerel grimaced and ran a glistening black tongue over his needle-sharp teeth. “When my clansmen and I return home, I mean to close the gates and keep them closed.”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “I don’t think that’s gonna do much good if this poison makes it back to Hirúl Breach.”
Corian shot her a sharp look, and she shrugged.
“The walls of my city have stood against the Spider’s venom for centuries, Aranél.” Cazerel snorted. “They will continue to stand.”
“How do you know?”
Corian clamped a hand around Cheyenne’s wrist to stop her as the chief gave the scorched, oozing forest a wide berth. “Not now.”
“He knows exactly what can and can’t stand against the blight.” The halfling frowned at him. “Unless he has some kind of protective ward we don’t know about, he’s delusional.”
“That’s his choice. Until we find a way to clear the sickness out of this world, kid, it’s not our place to tell anyone else what to think.”
She blinked at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Magicals have their own ways of dealing with what they don’t understand over here. Whenwe find a way to stop the blight from spreading, we can offer them that knowledge and our opinions. Until then, trying to argue with a raug will only make it worse.” He raised his eyebrows, then clasped his hands behind his back and followed the chief and the group of warriors leading the carts on legs.
Cheyenne stared after him and shook her head. I know everyone here is nuts. Why does it keep surprising me?
Ember waited for the halfling to catch up before she commanded the crawler to move again. “Okay, I get that no one wants to believe what’s happening here, but did I hear him say the stone gates are gonna keep the blight out of his city?”
“Trust me, Em. You lost your magic for a bit, not your hearing.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yep. You haven’t agreed to go back with Cazerel after this, have you?”
“No. He hasn’t asked.”
“Good.” Cheyenne gripped the straps of her backpack and stared at the raug chief stomping around the edge of the destroyed forest. “If he does, tell him no, or don’t give him an answer.”
Ember bit her lip and stared at her friend as they turned east beyond the edge of the scorched earth to get back on course. “Cheyenne?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to assume anything, but if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I might be freaking out.”
“Sorry, Em.” Cheyenne gave the fae girl an apologetic frown and lowered her voice. “He had no idea what happened there. He probably thought getting the blight was bad luck or some kind of debt he had to pay. I still haven’t figured these guys out.”
Ember swallowed. “But?”
“But now that he’s seen what this crap is doing to this world all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to keep you in his city.”
“Like blackmail?”
“Maybe. Or like keeping the only cure anyone knows about right at his side.” The halfling leaned toward her friend. “That’s you, by the way.”
“I know it’s me,” Ember hissed, then ran a hand through her violet-streaked hair. “Jesus. You think he’d do that?”
“Until we figure out how to reverse this, or at the very least keep it from spreading, I think every O’gúleesh is gonna do whatever they think it takes.”
“Shit.” Ember stared ahead blankly. “Right when I thought I could get over the weirdness of being friends with a raug.”
“It’s all weird, Em. We have to be careful.”
* * *
Two hours later, with the sun still high above them and the last stretch of blight-stricken forest miles behind them, Cazerel raised a meaty gray fist in the air and stopped. “Here.”
“Here what?” Lumil spun, her yellow hair fluttering away from her head before flopping back down over one eye. She blew it out of her face and frowned. “There’s nothing here.”
“So it would seem, hmm?” The chief turned and raised his eyebrows at the travelers. “And yet, here we are.”
For the first time since they’d stopped to eat their tense meal, Foltr stirred on the top of the cart and cleared his throat. “Would you accept an extra pair of hands, Zokrí?”
“If you wish, old one.” Cazerel nodded at the hunched, wizened raug, then turned toward his warriors and spread his arms. “We open the doorway here, Lugah’wo.”
The raug warriors gathered silently around their chief. When Foltr struggled to lower himself from the top of the cart, Corian stepped toward him and offered a hand. The old raug slapped it away and grunted. “I’m not as useless as I look, vae shra’ni. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”
Fighting back an amused smile, Corian clasped his hands behind his back and nodded before stepping away again.
Foltr jammed his staff into the dirt and clung to it as he slid unceremoniously from the top of the cart. To drive his point home, he smacked the end of his staff against the nightstalker’s shin and rolled his eyes. Then he moved toward Cazerel and his warriors, muttering through clenched teeth. When the old raug’s back was turned, Corian grimaced and bent over to rub his shin.
“So, what kind of doorway is this?” Ember gazed at the raugs, who were situating themselves in a semi-circle facing the trees.
Byrd shrugged. “Raug doorway, raug spells, right?”
“Oh. Better stay outta this one, Cheyenne.”
The goblins burst into snorting laughter.
“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Cheyenne playfully rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“Definitely don’t want the spell-dud drow gettin’ her sparking hands on this one, do we?” Lumil grinned and nodded at the halfling. “I still can’t believe it. L’zar’s daughter and all that drow magic doesn’t mean shit when it comes down to the technical stuff, huh?”
“Hey, at least I don’t
