“What do we do?” she asked. Her loud, excited voice was magnified by the rock. Hearing her own echo, she grinned.
Suri walked to the nest that was covered in fur from a shed winter’s coat and said, “This is where she sleeps.” Opening a pouch that hung from her belt, she scooped up a handful of salt. “Elan, Grand Mother of All, and Eton, Lord of the Sky, help us free this poor girl from the demon spirit that holds her captive.”
With that, Suri carefully sprinkled salt over the nest. “Demons can’t abide salt,” she told Maeve. “When Grin steps into her bed, the morvyn will recoil just as you or I would jump back after stepping on hot coals. Can’t help it. The spirit and the body will separate, and when that happens, you need to call to your daughter. The demon won’t cross the salt, but Shayla can. Once she’s in your arms, the demon will lose its control and be forced to flee.”
“Will she remain a bear?” Maeve asked.
Suri thought a moment. She honestly wasn’t certain. This was her first exorcism. “I’m not sure, but since the child was changed into a bear by the morvyn, there’s a good chance she’ll return to her natural form when it leaves.” Suri pointed toward the back of the cave. “We should wait back there.”
Suri spread out more salt, creating a line that the bear would have to cross to reach them. When done, the two sat down side by side, and Maeve returned the staff to Suri. She took it and smiled. The trap was set.
—
The wolf was gone, the door was open, and the way was clear. No one made any attempt to stop Arion as she took her first tentative steps out of the room. The old woman with the missing teeth, Padera, had come up to watch her, but she didn’t say a word. Not that Arion could have understood her if she’d tried. The old woman spoke only the Rhune language, and Arion had picked up too few words to make meaningful conversation. Apparently, Padera had no instructions to stop Arion from leaving.
Arion used the wall, running her palm along the rough wood. Even after so many days, she was still dizzy.
Might not be from the injury. Could be from being in bed for so long.
The dizziness would likely pass, but she still couldn’t feel the world. After so long, she began to consider the possibility that the injury had crippled her permanently. The lack of feeling, the total numbness of spirit, and her inability to sense the passage of time or the life force of existence frightened Arion. She felt exposed, helpless, and ordinary.
She thought again of Celeste, thankful she had broken things off. She couldn’t face her, not like this. Much, maybe all, of what had attracted her ex-lover was the power, stature, and position Arion held within the Miralyith.
Will I still have any of that? I should have died. Better if I had. It’s not like I’m still in my first millennium. I’ve had a good long life.
Then she realized something else. Maybe she was grasping at figments, but perhaps she could teach—continue to pass down lessons exactly as Fenelyus had hoped.
Arion gripped the banister and descended the stairs.
This was the first she’d seen of the Great Hall with its soot-stained pillars and ceiling. Ash was everywhere. Dirt and grass had been tracked in across the threshold. The floor was so stained with grime and melted wax that she imagined the dark spots to be blood. Luckily, she wasn’t nauseous, or her journey might have ended there. She walked through an empty room, focusing on the light entering the double doors.
The fresh air that greeted her at the exit was wonderful and helped level the world. She wasn’t sure what she’d find outside. Arion only vaguely remembered her arrival and didn’t recall looking around much. She’d been focused entirely on the Galantians—a nearly fatal mistake.
How many Rhunes live here? What do Rhunes do? Is Nyphron still in the village?
Arion realized she had no idea how long she’d been in that room. Days certainly, but how long she’d been unconscious and how many days had passed after that remained mysteries. It could be autumn for all she knew. Looking outside, Arion was relieved to discover spring flowers and new grass. Unless a whole year had slipped by, she couldn’t have been recovering for more than a week or two.
The morning sun was high, smoke rose from cook fires scattered everywhere, and Rhunes of all ages scurried about. Many of them looked old, and she was reminded how short their lives were. As incredible as it seemed, she’d heard none of them lived beyond a single millennium. One rumor held that they didn’t even live a full century, but she couldn’t believe that. What’s the point of bestowing sentience on a creature with a life span hardly longer than dew on a summer’s day?
“And then I swear, with Ferrol as my witness, that…” a boisterous voice said in Fhrey, only to continue in the Rhune language, which Arion couldn’t understand.
Hearing the sound of Fhrey voices, Arion was relieved. Gingerly stepping out of the lodge and onto the porch, she saw her kinsmen just down the steps. The Galantians lounged around a fire, drinking from large wooden cups and speaking a mix of the two languages, drifting from one to the other as if they couldn’t tell the difference. The giant began singing an unflattering song about a goblin king named Balod. He abruptly stopped after spotting her. They all looked over, then scrambled to their feet, reaching for weapons.
Arion didn’t move, didn’t want to provoke them. She glanced at the creature that had sent the column of fire her way. Arion had no idea what it was but knew if it cast that spell again she’d burn. She watched the thing’s yellow eyes as they watched her.
Can it tell? Can it sense I’m defenseless?
Nyphron set his cup down and approached her slowly. He was wearing his sword, and this time his hand did rest on the pommel. The other Fhrey who had visited her room, the one with the pair of swords, leapt to his side. No one else moved or spoke. They probably were waiting for her.
“Good morning,” she finally said.
Nyphron took another tentative step toward her. “You’re well, then?”
She didn’t dare shake her head for fear of losing balance. “Yes, I’m better.”
“I appreciate you speaking to me. Thank you for that. Have you considered what I’ve said?” he asked.
“I have.”
“And?”
Arion considered her words carefully, and in her hesitation the Galantians grew nervous. “I’m willing to take your proposal back to Fane Lothian. I’m also going to forgive the assault upon me that I’d otherwise hold you responsible for. I should mention that such an act carries a death sentence. Instead, I’ll tell the fane I fell off a horse.”
She could see the surprise and hope in their eyes. This was more than they had expected.
“But there is a condition,” she added.
Suspicion filled their faces. At the same moment, Arion saw that a number of Rhunes had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her. She no longer had access to the Art, but she still had the power to halt people where they stood.
“I require a service from you. One of the Rhunes who cared for me, a young tattooed girl named Suri—the one who has the pet wolf—has gone into the forest to confront a bear. Do you know the one of which I speak?”
Nyphron nodded.
“Good. I want you to find this girl and return her here.”