Harryn's eyes snapped open, and he was gazing into Thorn's face.
'Thorn…' he choked, and tried again. 'Thorn…' 'Nyrielle,' she whispered. He nodded, and a faint smile touched his face.
'Harryn,' he said.
'Sister!' A new voice rang across the swamp, bold and powerful. 'Didn't mother teach you not to play with your food?'
Soldiers were approaching, a troop of ogres. Thorn tried to pull free, but the ragged crone had a grip of iron. 'Listen to the water,' she said. 'This story is almost done.'
'She speaks the truth,' said the newcomer. 'You are in no danger. The Warlord Sheshka sent us to find you, to bring the survivors back to the Crag.'
The stranger came closer, and when Thorn caught sight of her, she knew exactly who she was. Tall and thin, hair as black as a crow's wing and just as ragged, yet surrounding her like a shroud woven from the night itself. I could see that her skin was flawless beneath the dirt, and her eyes were as dark as her hair. The dark-haired woman went straight to Beren and picked him up as if he were a child. She opened her mouth, and as Thorn had guessed, rows of razor sharp teeth hid behind her flawless smile.
'Don't worry,' she said. 'Lord Beren and I will not finish our business this year. Now bring your wounded knight and come with us. We are grateful… at least for today.'
The old woman released Thorn's hand and accompanied the younger woman as the ogres gathered up the delegates. Thorn helped Harryn to his feet.
'Can you walk?' she said. 'It seems that Sheshka was successful. Unless they're just bringing us back for a public execution.'
Harryn was weak and had to lean on her. 'Were… we successful? Drulkan-is he dead?'
'Look at the moons,' Thorn said. 'It seems that all is well. At least, as well as it will ever be in Droaam.'
Harryn nodded and focused on walking, leaving Thorn alone with her thoughts. Harryn didn't see the defeat of Drulkalatar. And Thorn… could she trust her own memories? Could it have been a dream? If not, what did it mean? What is it like to swim the river twice?
She still clenched her fist around her unknown gift. She glanced down and opened her hand.
It was her ring-the magic ring she'd been given just before her mission to Far Passage. The ring that allowed her to see in the dark and sharpened her other senses. But she wasn't wearing it, and she could still smell Harryn's scent, feel the motion of air and the vibrations of every footfall.
Never a gift at all, you see. This was not the gift you were given, and what you were given was not a gift.
What did it mean?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 21, 999 YK
Sora Katra studied the man before her. 'I give you this final chance to change the fate of nations, Lord Beren. What is your will?'
They stood in the Great Hall of the Crag, the audience chamber of the Daughters of Sora Kell. All three of the sisters were present. They stood on a raised dais, but it held no thrones; rather, a dead tree spread its limbs above and around the sisters. The significance was lost on Thorn, unless it was supposed to be as gnarled and tough as Sora Teraza.
Lord Beren ir' Wynarn had been chosen to speak for the surviving delegates. 'Sora Katra, I am astonished that you even ask. While under your roof, my compatriots have been kidnapped, cursed, and some of them killed. If not for the graces of the noble Minister Luala, many of us would still be afflicted with lycanthropy. There are yet a few who could not be cured, and who have suffered permanent psychological damage. And you still dare to raise the question of your petition?'
Sora Maenya stood behind Katra, and her laughter was deep and troubling. She'd chosen to remain in the form of the hungry woman from Beren's tale, but she'd let her hands slip. Her skin was as pale and smooth as that of a noble woman, but her fingers were unnaturally long, and her cruel claws were crusted with dried blood.
'I do, Lord Beren,' Katra said, showing no signs of guilt or remorse. 'We live in uncertain times. Things happen that cannot be controlled. This is one moment that you can control, and I suggest that you choose wisely. You have seen the power that we possess. Do you truly want us as an enemy?'
And there it was. The previous day, Sora Katra had claimed that the actions that had cost the lives of delegates were the work of Drul Kantar, the warlord governor of the Crag. According to Katra, none knew of Drul Kantar's influence over lycanthropes or the army he was building in secret. Drul's power enabled him to subvert the Warlord Zaeurl and many members of the Skullcrusher Guard.
Now that Drul Kantar was gone, Zaeurl was a trusted ally again. And since the conjunction of moons had passed with Kantar's ritual a failure, the power of lycanthropy had returned to prior conditions. Only a few among 'the blessed' could spread the affliction, and the hags claimed to have no plans to craft more shapeshifters, lest it empower Drul Kantar's mysterious overlord.
But even if the Daughters created no new lycanthropes, they had no intention of disposing of the ones already in their armies. With the defeat of Drul Kantar, the Skullcrusher Guard was once again fanatically loyal to the Daughters of Sora Kell. If war erupted between Breland and Droaam, trollbears might be tearing across the Graywall.
Lord Beren bowed slightly. 'No, Sora Katra, I do not. I hope that Droaam will enjoy a long and peaceful relationship with Breland. But it takes more than military power and intimidation to earn the respect of the Thronehold nations.'
Except for Valenar… and Darguun… and some days, Karrnath, Steel observed.
Thorn was the only one who could hear Steel's remarks, and she struggled to keep the smile off her face as Beren continued.
'During this journey, you and your people have forced me to reconsider my views of humanity. It is all too easy for us to fear the unknown or that which is dangerous. Many of your people deserve our trust and respect instead of our fear, but that means nothing if you, as the rulers of the nation, cannot distinguish between the two. The fact that you could allow this event to occur is sufficient cause for us to decline your petition at the present time.'
'The present time is the only time, Lord Beren. There will not be another.'
'Be that as it may, Sora Katra, we have made our decision. And we will expect reparations for the losses we have suffered on this journey.'
'You and your comrades will be given safe passage to Graywall, Lord Beren. Beyond that, I offered you the chance to change the fate of nations, and you have. This will have consequences, Lord Beren. I wish you well… until we meet again.'
Sora Maenya's laughter echoed through the hall as the gnolls escorted the delegates out.
Ghyrryn and Sheshka had both come to bid the travelers farewell.
'Few of you survive, so fewer wagons are needed,' Ghyrryn explained. 'I now serve a greater need in the Crag.'
'Well, at least our loss is your gain.' Thorn produced the myrnaxe. 'Do you wish to take this back?'
'You will not return a gift,' Ghyrryn said, surprised. 'We are brothers. And you may need it again.'
'I suppose I may.' It saddened her to think that they might meet again on opposite sides of a battlefield. 'Good hunting, brother.'
Sheshka waited nearby, her eyes closed. She touched her palm to Thorn's. 'Trust a gnoll to see a brother when one clearly has a sister,' she said.
There was little more to say that had not already been said, and Beren, Stormblade, and Thorn climbed aboard their wagon. Sheshka, Thorn, and Stormblade had spent much of the previous night talking and sampling the
