in the desert. Aid me. "
"Snap out of it, Johnis."
He pivoted on his heels. Grumbled at his own foolishness. "Right. Darsal we'll look for in the morning. There's water in the desert, Silvie. Remember?"
"I'm not traipsing across the desert again, love. Sorry. I've followed you to hell and back enough times. And we had Roush to thank last time. No such luck now."
"Maybe, maybe not."
His heart screamed to go south, out into open desert.
Not this time.
Johnis wrenched his mind to his own will. Please, Elyon. This is not a good time for this. "If Thomas is in the desert, we'll have no choice. And Thomas will go where there's water."
"Darsal would go to the lake."
So much time lost.
Each second one closer to turning Horde.
The desert.
If they turned Horde before reaching Thomas, it was all over.
"It's a risk we have to take," he said finally.
Silvie didn't answer. They were both torn between Darsal, the safety of the Forest Guard, and Elyon's healing waters.
"I'll take first watch."
Long pause.
"Wake me in two hours," Silvie finally said. "We leave at dawn."
arsal pulled Xedan's cloak over her body and vanished beneath it, nightmares of treachery and swarming bats and cold shackles flooding her. Desert and death. All her past sins swept over her, the carnage consumed her.
In the dream she died by fire, in an inferno she deserved.
"Elyon! Elyon ... !"
"Darsal. Darsal, wake up!"
Darsal's eyes flew open beneath the dark canopy of a tattered cloak. She flung back the cloak. Her joints were stiff and cramped.
Night consumed her. "Elyon?"
A single soft laugh. "No, dear. I am Xedan. You were having a frightful dream, dear girl."
"Grandfather is hardly the Maker." Jordan gave an uneasy chuckle. "You aren't still afraid of turning to Horde, are you?"
She slumped along the bars.
An itch started down the back of her neck and worked its way along her spine.
I'm trapped. Trapped in hell and turning Scab while these insane Forest Dwellers try to convince me the inevitable won't happen.
"Darsal?" Jordan repeated.
Elyon remained silent, the elusive wellspring just beyond her reach, mocking her while dark bats hunted her down like a rodent to devour her alive.
Elyon, have I overly angered you? Will mercy never be granted me?
Her dry, parched throat felt like cotton. She rose to her knees and rattled the bars. "Guard," she rasped. "Guard!"
A minute later the Scab came, scowling at her and grumbling for rousing him out of sleep or whatever mindless thing he was doing. "What?"
"Could I have some water? Please." Darsal rubbed her throat and chest. Over her breastbone it ached a little. "And is it day or night?"
He studied her, then grunted. "Midmorning. I'll see about the water."
Darsal sank back down. "Do any of you feel it yet?" She massaged her elbow.
Not even Elyon could stop the scabbing disease without water.
"Darsal, it's going to be all right," Jordan said. "There's nothing to fear. Calm down." He spoke sternly, eyes riddled with concern. "No, I don't feel anything. What happened to you to make you think this way?"
"Nothing!" she snapped, then softened. "It's the way it is, which is why we have to get out of here. We have to find Thomas."
"Thomas?" Xedan gave a short laugh. "I wouldn't worry about him. He's probably buried so deep no one will ever find him until he's ready to be found."
"You know where he is, then?" Xedan was making sense again-either that or she just didn't have the strength or will to retaliate against his seductive lies.
"Well, no. No, I don't. But that's my point, love. You see ..."
The guard's boots thumped lightly on the dirt floor. Torchlight momentarily blinded her. He shoved a tumbler of water between the bars. "Here, wench."
Darsal started forward and snatched it from his hand. She poured a little into her palm, thinking maybe, just maybe ...
Nothing.
She sighed and drank to the bottom, then returned it. "Thank you."
No water. No Middle Forest.
No Thomas. No Johnis
"Snap out of it, Johnis."
He pivoted on his heels. Grumbled at his own foolishness. "Right. Darsal we'll look for in the morning. There's water in the desert, Silvie. Remember?"
"I'm not traipsing across the desert again, love. Sorry. I've followed you to hell and back enough times. And we had Roush to thank last time. No such luck now."
"Maybe, maybe not."
His heart screamed to go south, out into open desert.
Not this time.
Johnis wrenched his mind to his own will. Please, Elyon. This is not a good time for this. "If Thomas is in the desert, we'll have no choice. And Thomas will go where there's water."
"Darsal would go to the lake."
So much time lost.
Each second one closer to turning Horde.
The desert.
If they turned Horde before reaching Thomas, it was all over.
"It's a risk we have to take," he said finally.
Silvie didn't answer. They were both torn between Darsal, the safety of the Forest Guard, and Elyon's healing waters.
"I'll take first watch."
Long pause.
"Wake me in two hours," Silvie finally said. "We leave at dawn."
arsal pulled Xedan's cloak over her body and vanished beneath it, nightmares of treachery and swarming bats and cold shackles flooding her. Desert and death. All her past sins swept over her, the carnage consumed her.
In the dream she died by fire, in an inferno she deserved.
"Elyon! Elyon ... !"
"Darsal. Darsal, wake up!"
Darsal's eyes flew open beneath the dark canopy of a tattered cloak. She flung back the cloak. Her joints were stiff and cramped.
Night consumed her. "Elyon?"
A single soft laugh. "No, dear. I am Xedan. You were having a frightful dream, dear girl."
"Grandfather is hardly the Maker." Jordan gave an uneasy chuckle. "You aren't still afraid of turning to Horde, are you?"
She slumped along the bars.
An itch started down the back of her neck and worked its way along her spine.
I'm trapped. Trapped in hell and turning Scab while these insane Forest Dwellers try to convince me the inevitable won't happen.
"Darsal?" Jordan repeated.
Elyon remained silent, the elusive wellspring just beyond her reach, mocking her while dark bats hunted her down like a rodent to devour her alive.
Elyon, have I overly angered you? Will mercy never be granted me?
Her dry, parched throat felt like cotton. She rose to her knees and rattled the bars. "Guard," she rasped. "Guard!"
A minute later the Scab came, scowling at her and grumbling for rousing him out of sleep or whatever mindless thing he was doing. "What?"
"Could I have some water? Please." Darsal rubbed her throat and chest. Over her breastbone it ached a little. "And is it day or night?"
He studied her, then grunted. "Midmorning. I'll see about the water."
Darsal sank back down. "Do any of you feel it yet?" She massaged her elbow.
Not even Elyon could stop the scabbing disease without water.
"Darsal, it's going to be all right," Jordan said. "There's nothing to fear. Calm down." He spoke sternly, eyes riddled with concern. "No, I don't feel anything. What happened to you to make you think this way?"
"Nothing!" she snapped, then softened. "It's the way it is, which is why we have to get out of here. We have to find Thomas."
"Thomas?" Xedan gave a short laugh. "I wouldn't worry about him. He's probably buried so deep no one will ever find him until he's ready to be found."
"You know where he is, then?" Xedan was making sense again-either that or she just didn't have the strength or will to retaliate against his seductive lies.
"Well, no. No, I don't. But that's my point, love. You see ..."
The guard's boots thumped lightly on the dirt floor. Torchlight momentarily blinded her. He shoved a tumbler of water between the bars. "Here, wench."
Darsal started forward and snatched it from his hand. She poured a little into her palm, thinking maybe, just maybe ...
Nothing.
She sighed and drank to the bottom, then returned it. "Thank you."
No water. No Middle Forest.
No Thomas. No Johnis
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