Quivel waited as both Trynne and Fallon’s wrists were bound behind them with chains and cuffs. The soldiers, all dressed in the wine-red tunics fringed with black, fell in all around them. They were hardened men, each bearing scab marks on their faces, and some afflicted with oozing sores. Fallon’s jaw was clenched and his eyes blazed with fury, never veering from the Dochte Mandar.
“Wait here for my return,” Quivel told the remainder of the soldiers after choosing four to accompany them. “The Leerings will protect you from the Fear Liath so long as you stay near this one. If you leave the grove, you will die. Is that plain enough? Good men.
Now, let us be going.”
Trynne gazed at the Tay al-Ard, her soul in turmoil. It had been stripped away from them so easily . . .
Was it her father’s cunning that had trapped them? She had never beaten him in a game of Wizr. Not once.
The roar of a massive beast emanated from the misty woods, followed by an ominous snuffling noise. Some of the soldiers rocked from foot to foot, looking around nervously.
“Sunset,” Quivel said with a satisfied nod. “The hunt begins.
Shall we?”
He held the Tay al-Ard close to him, and the soldiers gripped Fallon and Trynne’s arms before reaching out to touch Quivel’s arm, the one that possessed the magic. There was a swirl of motion, a dizzying spin, and then they were inside a pavilion that smelled strongly of cedar. It was spacious and decorated for comfort with stacks of chests, a table with a map and measuring tools, and several large pillows on the floor. There was a Leering in the center of the pavilion and Trynne felt Quivel’s magic brush against it. The eyes started to glow red and it produced light and heat.
“Two of you stand guard outside,” Quivel said. “The other two, stand over there and keep watch. If either of these two attempts any murder, you may beat them at your leisure. Understood?”
The chief soldier nodded and they assumed their positions.
“I thought we were brought here to see the king?” Fallon asked, looking around the otherwise empty pavilion.
“Not yet.” He stuffed the Tay al-Ard into his belt and then motioned them toward the Leering. “Sit down there. I have questions before you see the king. Go on. Sit.” He gestured with a slight frown of impatience.
Fallon glanced at Trynne and she nodded. She could free them from the chains in an instant. It would only take a single word of power. But it would be best if Quivel didn’t know she’d trained as a Wizr. Outside the pavilion, she heard crackling cookfires and soldiers milling around talking and complaining about the quality of the rations. Smoke lingered in the air, making it hazy. Trynne eased down next to the Leering and Fallon joined her.
Quivel looked satisfied by their act of submissiveness. He lowered his voice and approached them in a very candid manner.
“Very well, I’ll get to the point. I need to get off this world. Things are going from bad to worse. I was told a man would be sent to take my place. A thief lord. Where is he? Do you know of him?”
Could it be?
Fallon turned his head and looked at Trynne. “You mean Dragan?” he asked.
Quivel’s eyes brightened. “Yes! That’s the one. He’s supposed to be here collecting the treasures, not I.”
“He was captured,” Trynne said, keeping her voice steady.
“Blast it,” Quivel muttered, and began to pace. “That explains why he wasn’t with you. Everything is going wrong. The plan is unraveling. These people are on the verge of slaughtering each other. Three armies are marching here right now. If we don’t get away soon, we’ll all die here. So, perhaps we can cooperate. Dochte Abbey is burned. That was to be the signal that the final war was starting. I saw you both”—he said, wagging his finger at them —“standing near her. Queen Ereshkigal, that is. Nasty creature. I wasn’t there, but I saw you through the Leering in the cell. When you vanished, I knew you had a Tay al-Ard. So, let us help one another, shall we?” His voice had a desperate edge to it. “You don’t want to be trapped here any more than I do. I think Rucrius intended to abandon me. Too much time has passed since I last heard from him.”
“And you won’t,” Trynne said, trying to understand the maze of words. “Rucrius is dead.”
The news struck Quivel like a blow. His cheeks twitched with dread. “No,” he gasped. He continued pacing, shaking his head in wonderment. “It’s worse than I feared. We need to get away. Dieyre is luring the other kingdoms here for a final conflict. The strategy is elegant and simple. He’ll get them all to fight each other through treachery and deceit. You see, the curse in these woods takes its toll on everyone who enters. His camp is shielded from it for now.