“I don’t take chances,” Vraith said, her tone serious. “Not when it costs me almost nothing to avoid this risk. We need to discover if his ability is controllable and how much power he has over it. His power is a threat, and we need to determine how much it has the ability to derail our plans.”
Gregor nodded. He didn’t really care about Duvan as long as he got his plaguegrass. Though he did worry about Tyrangal’s reaction if she learned of his complicity in helping the Order capture Duvan. He would have to do something to prevent her from finding out.
Still, it would not do to anger Vraith at this time. The Order of Blue Fire had its fingers in too many affairs in Ormpetarr. This situation would require finesse and diplomacy. Outright defiance had the potential for dire consequences.
“Duvan and one of our clerics left this morning on an important mission for me,” Gregor said.
“Where did they go?” Vraith asked.
“The Plaguewrought Land.”
“When”
“And I am not certain when they will be back,” he continued, cutting Vraith off. Gregor was growing annoyed at being treated like a subordinate. “But it will be no later than noon tomorrow.”
Vraith frowned. “I’d rather not wait that long,” she said with a sigh. “But I see that I will have to. Very well, I will send Beaugrat and a party to scour the border. When they come out, we will take them by force.”
“I just need what they’re carrying,” he said. “They’re gathering a vital component of the resistance elixir.”
Vraith gave the slightest of nods.
“I would also like to have my monk, Slanya, unharmed and brought back safely. She deserves nothing less.”
“We only need the rogueDuvan,” she said. “And your continued participation, of course, in the plans ahead.”
Gregor nodded. “As long as we are in agreement about the plaguegrass and Slanya.”
“We are.”
A grin spread across Gregor’s face. “Perfect,” he said. “I am excited about the festival. As soon as Slanya returns, I will have everything necessary to manufacture a batch of the elixirenough to accommodate the thousands of pilgrims necessary.” _
“Excellent.”
“We have an agreement then,” Gregor said. “Send your men after them, and you can do whatever you want with the rogue. I don’t want to know about it.”
Vraith snorted. “It’s insincere to get squeamish on me now,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve done worse to thousands of pilgrims by exposing them to experimental elixirs. We’re just going to test the extent of his ability.”
Gregor bristled. Vraith’s comparison was unfair and grossly inaccurate. Not only would the results of his research save vastly many more lives that had been lost, but every single pilgrim who had taken his elixirs had done so willingly. Vraith was not offering Duvan a choice here.
Vraith gave a slight bow. “May the Blue Fire burn inside you.” And without waiting for a response she turned and walked from the room.
Gregor followed. In the courtyard Vraith commanded her man, Beaugrat, to mount up and head out in search of
Duvan and Slanya, with clear instruction to return them both here to the monastery when he found them. “Do not let them escape,” she said.
The sky lightened in the east just as they rode away south. Perhaps it was all for the best, Gregor thought. This way the Order would owe him a favor, and their partnership would be that much stronger. The arrangement would even be good for Slanya, because she’d likely get back faster and in more comfort.
In fact the only one who stood to lose from the arrangement was the rogue, Duvan, and his preferences mattered little in this. It was unfair, perhaps, but he would simply disappear, and for all important parties, that was for the best.
The only backlash for Gregor would be if Tyrangal learned of his involvement in Duvan’s capture. He couldn’t afford for the powerful woman to be his adversary. If only there was some way he could absolve himself of complicity in Tyrangal’s eyes or mitigate her anger.
This was a delicate dance. Gregor hoped his skills were up to the performance of it.
Letting his anger fuel him, Duvan picked his way down the steep incline and deeper into the Plaguewrought Land. He kept silent, focusing instead on the task at hand: survival.
The bare rock of the landscape gave way to a grove of rapidly growing maples. Duvan picked a quick path through the grove. Saplings grew into trees, and soon they were arching overhead, branches budding green leaves, turning yellow, and then raining down in a vermillion shower around them.
Slanya looked up from the fixed point on the ground. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Stay close,” Duvan said, breaking his silence. “It may look beautiful now, but it could change into something dangerous at any time.”
As they continued through, the trees aged around them. They shrivelled and died. Undergrowth of vines and bushes rapidly filled the space. Duvan took Slanya’s hand and pulled her. Fueled by the remnants of the Spellplague, this undergrowth could easily grow fast enough to trap and suffocate them.
The pungent odor of decaying plants and humus rose around them like a palpable tide of death. Duvan headed left and up a slope that seemed to be rising as they ran. Leaves and rotting vegetation deepened until they threatened to suck the two down into the muck.
Duvan scrambled up the slope, finding footholds easily. Slanya seemed be struggling to match his pace, but she managed ita fortunate thing. If they stopped they’d be trapped.
“Will you know how to get back out?” Slanya said.
Duvan nodded. “Of course I will.”
Slanya followed him step for step as they snaked further into the changelands. He kept his eyes open for plaguegrass, but so far there was no sign of the elusive plant. Duvan marveled at the level of trust that Slanya put in him, amazed that she did not question his choices.
Perhaps her faith in the elixir was so strong that she felt protected. The thought of such blind trust in anything so experimental angered him, and he wanted to get her to question it. But he held his tongue. Even if it provided no additional protection from the changelands, at least it reassured Slanya and helped her avoid panicking.
Staying calm was critical in negotiating the dangers of the Plaguewrought Land.
Duvan took them over hills and through the rapidly shifting landscape. Spellplague was ubiquitous in here, all around them, but there were waves and pockets of blue fire, where its intensity was far higher. Duvan tracked these by sound and sight and smell, but also by feel. His stomach grew heavy when remains fo the Spellplague stirred like stormclouds, filling him with a gut-churning irritation.
“Can you feel that?” he asked.
“Peel what?”
“The spellplaguea flare of it is off to our right, moving toward us.”,
Slanya shook her head. “I have no sensation of it,” she said.
“You’ll become attuned to it,” he said.
“I doubt it,” she said. “If it were possible to attune myself to something like that, my training would make it simple for me to focus. You have a gift.”
Duvan scowled at her and guided them away from the approaching wave of spellplague. It wasn’t visible yet and seemed to be passing underneath them. Suddenly the fire changed direction and rose up toward them.
The earth heated up around them,
“Run!” But every way Duvan turned, he felt the blue fire. Finally, he stopped running and crouched next to Slanya. “It’s all around us.”
The sky darkened to a deep purple as the smell of burning rock smoldered into the air. The ground beneath their feet started to drift upward.
