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Daisy’s mind reeled. Without meaning to, she began to plan.
We could talk to Eerith, get her to call off the fight. Something about how there’s no need to do this, and letting them both go would show the might of the elves. No, she’s too into the moment–she’s got the soldiers whipped up. She’d never let that happen.
We could step between them, refuse to let them fight. I mean, they might not even fight at all. If they can’t fight, she’d have to call it off. No, there’s no way. They’d kill both Brokk and Arokosiel, and then we’d have lost both of them.
We could let them fight. Brokk’s a warrior through and through. Arokosiel’s a little elf with probably no training. I could get Brokk to knock him out but not kill him, then volunteer to take Arokosiel’s body away for burial and heal him. We could send him back to Lo’Torrin in one piece. But whoever’s in charge there now might complicate that, and what if Eerith won’t let me personally tend to Arokosiel’s body? It’s a risk, but it might be all we have. I just have to act quickly and hope Brokk can hear me when I tell him not to kill Arokosiel.
That’s gonna have to be it. We don’t have a lot of options. I’ll get Brokk’s attention. I can pray for him to hear me. And I can pray that Eerith will let me take Arokosiel’s body. Shit. This is as desperate as it gets. But it’s all we have.
Daisy swallowed hard and turned to Larkin to whisper her plan. But Larkin was engaged in her own battle. The look on Larkin’s face told Daisy that she was struggling. Her brows were knit together; her muscles tensed as she reached to her back and drew the Bow of Sariel. Daisy watched in curiosity.
Is she gonna distract everybody by firing in the air? Try to fight them all off? Why does she look like that? It’s like she doesn’t want to be grabbing her bow.
Larkin raised her bow before herself. She closed her eyes in struggle. Her right forearm held the bow toward Brokk. As Daisy watched in horror, green light built up around the bowstring. An arrow wrapped in green flame appeared nocked at the string, and without Larkin’s movement to pull it, the bowstring inched backwards in the air, pulling the string tight.
Brokk looked away from Arokosiel and the gathered crowd. He looked sadly at the adventurers, his eyes lingering on the green-lit bow aimed at him. He gazed at Larkin in sad acceptance and nodded.
“It’s not your fault, kid,” he said just loudly enough to be heard over the shouts of the throng of troops.
Larkin was staring back at Brokk. Her eyes poured tears, and everything in her tried to move the bow’s aim away from him. But it was not enough. The arrow loosed, and the green light that surrounded the Bow of Sariel followed the arrow as it raced through the air. The arrow buried itself in Brokk’s chest. Larkin’s left hand still hung by her side, her right still stuck in a raised position until she finally jerked it free. She fell to her knees and wept, letting loose a pained howl for her friend.
Brokk fell backwards soundlessly and lay still. Blood seeped out of the wound and covered the swirling purple tattoos on his chest. His breathing stopped, and the Ronan’el-hornkin was a lifeless body, alone in the ring but among many in the course of the war.
The soldiers cried out in frustration and disappointment. They had expected a fight. They had wanted a fight. Brokk’s apparent execution was infuriating to them. Eerith, however, smiled.
“The Ronan’el scum is dead!” she shouted.
The elven troops screamed in excitement. They pounded fists and weapons against shields, and the clattering was deafening for a moment. But then Eerith raised a hand, and they fell quiet again.
“Arokosiel goes back to Lo’Torrin,” sneered Eerith. “Take him away.”
A small group of elven soldiers came from the ring’s edge and scooped up Arokosiel, still blinking in disbelief and fear in the sunlight. They carried him away roughly.
Eerith smiled and looked ready to speak again. She held a hand high once more and breathed in. But before she could speak, a strange sound cut through the camp. It came from one of the prisoner’s cells. A small Ronan’el child, her white scales darkened by the shade of the cell’s bars, began to chant.
At first, Daisy thought the girl was chanting in Ronan’el. It was slow and guttural. It lacked melody but had a steady rhythm. As the chant continued, it became clear that it was not Ronan’el; it lacked words altogether. It was simply a continuous series of sounds that were at once hopeless and hopeful–a recognition of defeat, but also the quiet knowledge that defeat is not permanent. The other Ronan’el prisoners knew the chant and joined in, one by one, until there was one united Ronan’el voice, saying without words that the Ronan’el were not done for, had not truly lost, could not truly lose.
Eerith did not like this. She began to shout over the chant. “The war effort has come to a point, my people, where the elves are assured victory,” she said. “We were, in a way, assured victory from the first moment that the war began, when the treaty was broken more than ten years ago. But that assurance was one of confidence and knowledge. The victory we have now, we can feel in our bones. We have won, and there is nothing that the Ronan’el can do to stop us.”
But the chanting continued to grow louder. Every Ronan’el in the camp had come together in one voice, chanting over Eerith. The soldiers leaned forward, straining to hear her monologue over the chant, but the Ronan’el were now banging their cups and plates from mealtime against the bars of their cages. Some kept rhythm with the chant, and others simply smashed their improvised instruments as loudly as possible to disrupt the leader of the desert elves.
Daisy smiled. The Ronan’el chant had filled her with a fire that reminded her of how she felt reciting Idunna’s chant. She produced her inkpen and the treaty from her bag and approached Eerith. It was so loud in the camp that Daisy had to yell at the top of her lungs to be heard.
“So you’ll sign, Lady Eerith?”
Eerith sneered and laughed derisively. She said something that Daisy could not make out, and she took the inkpen and signed the treaty.
“You’re doomed anyway,” Eerith shouted over the chant.
Daisy smiled. “Thank you,” she cried out. She went to Larkin’s side, the hornkin still devastated by Brokk’s death, and tried to comfort her.
The chant somehow grew even louder. It seemed that every Ronan’el in camp was using every ounce of their strength to chant at top volume. The guards began screaming at the prisoners and threatening them with violence, but the Ronan’el in their cages simply stood where the bars protected them and got still louder.
Eerith glanced around, her face blank. Daisy recognized the look of concealed fear, even panic, but Eerith withheld it well, like a warrior facing down a superior enemy force. She issued commands to the soldiers around her, but the soldiers were awestruck completely, many of them simply gazing around at the Ronan’el and listening to the thundering chant.
Suddenly, all the Ronan’el stopped chanting at once. In the moment after the chanting stopped, the silence was more perturbing than the din of the chant had been. It was eerily quiet. It was as though the world had ended, and each person in the camp was there alone. At the center of the ring, a flash of blinding light appeared, accompanied by an explosion of thunder. When it faded, a massive Ronan’el stood at the center of the ring about twenty feet from Eerith. He seemed very familiar to Daisy, though she could not immediately place him. He was massive and muscled, wearing heavy black armor that looked to be wrought iron. His thick beard and knotted hair was black, and he was in the spring of his youth.
Larkin wiped her tears and stood, looking at the Ronan’el. “Ronaan?”
Daisy gasped. It was Ronaan, but at the other end of his life from when she had last seen him. Ronaan looked at Larkin and nodded. Then his expression turned solemn, and he went to Brokk’s fallen body. He knelt by the Ronan’el-hornkin and cradled his head gently. He murmured something too quiet to hear, then rose. Ronaan walked to the group and stood before Kast. He placed his forehead against Kast’s for a long moment, then whispered something in Kast’s ear. Kast wore the faintest glimmer of a smile, then nodded seriously. Ronaan turned then to Larkin and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. White light ebbed from his palm into Larkin’s body, and she stood straighter. Her expression softened. She seemed no longer troubled.
The Ronan’el prisoners began to murmur amongst themselves. “Ronaan,” they said in reverent tones. Eerith’s face soured. She grabbed a spear from a nearby soldier and hurled it at Ronaan.
Without looking or turning to face Eerith, Ronaan’s arm shot out and grabbed the spear before it struck him. Still, Ronaan looked at the group of adventurers, his face a mysterious blend of gratitude and anguish. In his hand, the spear turned to ash and crumbled. The ash fell to the ground, and a sound like thunder in the distance came with it.
Another flash came in the ring. An elf dressed in green and brown robes appeared, surrounded in a brilliant light. Much of his long blond hair was held in a high ponytail, the rest hanging loose at his shoulders. Daisy recognized him from her prayer to Sariel, one of the elven gods on the mountaintop–it was Faerian. Many of the elven soldiers fell to their knees. Larkin’s bow flew out of her hand and zipped to Faerian, who caught it effortlessly.
Ronaan turned and faced Faerian. “Brother,” he said, his voice thick and heavy.
“You are no brother of mine,” Faerian retorted. His face was bitter, as though Ronaan had insulted him gravely.
Ronaan frowned. “Then we are doomed,” he said. “Faerian, I have begged for your forgiveness. We can end this infernal and incessant war. I beg of you. Let your hatred of me go. Let our people live.”
Faerian smiled sickeningly. He lifted his bow toward Ronaan. “No.”
Ronaan waved his hand. In an instant, Larkin, Steel-Eyes, Sash, Kast, and Daisy were somewhere else–atop a grassy ridge by the forest’s edge. Ronaan was not with them. Daisy glanced around to orient herself and spotted the camp where they had been just a moment before in the distance several miles away. Surrounding them on the ridge were the Ronan’el prisoners from the camp, more than a hundred of them. A short ways away, the elven soldiers stood on the other side of the ridge, Eerith at the head of them. A tense moment passed as the unarmed prisoners looked nervously at the flank of troops not far away. Eerith looked like she was calculating a move, but before she could act, a massive crash sounded.
When the camp was, a huge flash of light appeared. A shockwave of light and force blasted the site, and the energy was so powerful that everyone on the ridge fell to the ground. When the light disappeared, they all looked to the camp. It was gone. Only a massive crater remained.
Eerith’s eyes widened in horror. She could be seen coming to the same conclusion that everyone else was coming to, and it mortified her. She slumped her shoulders and faced the adventurers. “Faerian did not save us. Ronaan did.” She sighed. “We will not forget this. You have my apologies and my promise: my troops and I will never slay another Ronan’el.” She turned to her soldiers and barked a few orders, telling them to return to the desert and abandon the camp and issuing a command that any soldier returning to the war effort would be punished. The desert elves marched off the ridge away from the crater, their spirits broken and their posture sagging.
“Is everybody okay?” asked Daisy. “Anybody need healing? I can take care of–”
She stopped short at the sound of rustling trees. They turned. Emerging from the treeline was a black-scaled Ronan’el she recognized from the tribunal–Rhuk. Behind Rhuk trailed a large force of Ronan’el of every clan.
“You’ve set free the prisoners,” she said. “I will escort them back home. Come with us. The tribunal wishes to speak to you.”
Daisy and the others nodded. Dazed, they followed the group of Ronan’el back through the forest and to the Ronan’el camp. In the quiet of the camp, they were left to recover, a meeting with the tribunal looming in a few days’ time.
Daisy went to Larkin once the dust had settled and they were left to their own devices in the camp. “You okay, Larkin?”
Larkin smiled gently and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I didn’t do it, you know. I didn’t shoot Brokk.”
Daisy patted her shoulder. “I know. I know he was your friend, and I know you’d never hurt him, and I could see you struggle against what was happening. It’s okay.”
Larkin chuckled sadly. “When Ronaan touched my shoulder, I felt like I hadn’t done anything wrong. And I guess I know I haven’t. But I still miss Brokk. He was a good guy.”
“He was,” agreed Daisy. “And he understood. He forgave you.”
Larkin had a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, he did. He was just like that. He always kinda just understood, even if things were hard or bad or confusing. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“He absolutely didn’t,” said Daisy. “But it’s all over now. We have all the signatures. And the desert elves won’t fight anymore. No one else has to die. No one else has to suffer. He would want that.”
Larkin nodded, yawning. “You’re right. He’d be happy if he knew the war ended. I hope he knows that, wherever he is.”
Daisy smiled sadly. “I’ll make sure he does. For now, why don’t you get some rest?”
“That’s a good idea, Daisy. I’m gonna get some sleep.” Larkin unrolled her pack and curled up on it. She was snoring within a few moments.
Daisy watched Larkin sleep for a while. Poor kid. She’s been through so much. Having to hold the bow while Brokk died–she didn’t deserve that. Sleep well, Larkin.
Daisy went to the edge of the camp and knelt, closing her eyes. Idunna, thank you for your blessings. We completed the treaty. Except for Norasynia, I mean, but she said she would sign. We survived whatever happened today. We saved a lot of lives, and I thank you for that. Please help Brokk to know that the war will end and that he is missed, wherever he might be. I love you.
She smelled cherry blossoms and smiled. She returned to the spot where the group had set up their small collection of traveling gear and unrolled her own bedroll a few feet from Larkin’s. She too was quickly asleep, and she did not dream.
—
“The tribunal will see you now.” A green Ronan’el bowed to the adventurers and led them from their small place in the camp to the Table. As before, a large group of Ronan’el were gathered around, but this time, the Ronan’el leaders were more at peace, and they looked more inviting–not inviting, perhaps, but less intimidating.
“You have rested for two days,” said Bruzhor. “We have been happy to have you in our camp. We understand that you have collected nearly all the signatures. You have done well.”
“Yes,” said Shez, “it has been a long time, but you have done as we asked you to. Some of us thought the task impossible, but you have proven otherwise.”
“Who must still sign?” asked Urdukk.
“Norasynia must sign,” explained Daisy, “but she has promised to sign if all the other leaders did first, and they have.”
“This is good,” said Urdukk. “An elf’s promise may not mean much on the battlefield, but this is hopeful.”
Abzal nodded. “You will go to Norasynia soon, then. We will finally end this war for good.”
“I look forward to seeing her sign,” said Kast.
“We have other matters for you, actually,” said Bruzohr. “We wish you to go to Stronghold to the north. Commune with Ronaan. Determine what our next steps should be.”
Kast nodded dutifully. He turned to the others. “I wish you luck in my absence, then.”
“We can depart tomorrow,” said Sash. “As soon as the camp is secure and safe.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Bruzohr uneasily, “there is a matter you might help with before leaving. A sickness has appeared in the camp. Many of us are sick. The camp is close quarters, so the sickness has spread. Many of our children have become infected with it. Some of them are near death. We are in need of help. We must cure the sickness and stop it from spreading further. I hate to ask more of you, but this has become dire.”
“I can help with the sick,” said Daisy.
“Me too,” said Larkin. “We’ll take care of anyone who’s hurting.”
“I’ll look into the sickness,” added Sash. “We need to know what we’re dealing with to stop it.”
“Steel-Eyes can help investigate,” said the dwarf.
“We thank you,” said Rhuk. “Your assistance means a great deal.”
Steel-Eyes stared at Rhuk. “Steel-Eyes is curious. How did you know where we would be.”
Rhuk looked uncomfortable with Steel-Eyes’s direct tone. She narrowed her eyes. “Sithrin had a vision. She said you would be there at that time with the prisoners. We try to not ignore the visions Sithrin has.” Sithrin smiled kindly at the comment.
Steel-Eyes grunted.
“Can someone show us to the sick?” asked Daisy. “We should get started right away.”
“Of course,” said Bruzohr. “An attendant will show you. Good luck. We need you.”
The green Ronan’el who had shown them to the Table approached the adventurers as the tribunal began to speak amongst themselves. “This way,” he said. He led them from the Table back to the edge of camp, where dozens of Ronan’el lay on cots and bedrolls. Many of them looked thin and sickly; several were vomiting; all of them had their eyes closed in pain. Daisy and Larkin immediately set to work, beginning with the children. Daisy recalled the days spent in the orphanage in Lo’Thalas and gritted her teeth–her work would be cut out for her here as well.
For hours, she and Larkin cast every spell and feverishly repeated the Chant over every sick Ronan’el they could. Most of the sick were too delirious to speak until healed, and the healing appeared to undo most of their symptoms, but even those who had been given magical restoration complained of stomach pains. As the morning became afternoon and then evening, Daisy and Larkin were able to bring almost all of the sick to a point of being simply in pain but not at death’s door.
The last of the sick was a purple Ronan’el who made Daisy double-take. She recognized her. It was the Ronan’el who she had seen several times before in the prison in Despair–Tyan. Tyan was vomiting regularly and clutching her stomach, too feverish to be fully cognizant of what was happening. Daisy studied her face sadly and recited the Chant over her writhing body. The pink and white light of the magic sank into Tyan’s frame, and she went still. Her eyes opened slowly.
“Where am I?” asked Tyan.
“You’re in the Ronan’el camp’s sick bay,” explained Daisy gently. “You’ve been very ill for a few days now, and you’ve been throwing up a lot. But it seems like you’re getting better.”
Tyan waved the answer away. “Where’s Nytra?”
“Nytra?” repeated Daisy. “Who’s Nytra?”
“My daughter,” said Tyan. “She was sick first.”
Daisy glanced around and spotted a very young purple Ronan’el several beds away. “Is she about four or five?”
Tyan winced from her stomach pain. “Three, but she’s real big for her age.”
“She’s fine,” Daisy assured her. “She’s one of the first ones I healed when I came today. She’s got a bad stomachache like you do, but she’s being very brave about it.”
“That’s my girl,” said Tyan. “Strong like her mama.”
“She sure is,” agreed Daisy. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just let me see her.”
Daisy frowned. “She’s not in good enough condition to come over here, but–”
“Carry her,” demanded Tyan. “I need to see her.”
Daisy looked down at the purple Ronan’el. To her, Tyan had been her neighbor a matter of months ago. To Tyan, Daisy was no one–she had known Gilbert more than a decade ago. She smiled and went to Nytra’s bedside and gently scooped the child up. She hauled the young girl to Tyan’s cot and held her up for the mother to see.
“See? She’s fine. And you’re both gonna get better and have a great life. The war is gonna be over soon.” She lowered Nytra into her mother’s cot, and Tyan wrapped her arms around her child reflexively.
Tyan furrowed her brow. “The war’s over? How long have I been out?”
Daisy chuckled. “I’m told only two or three days. My friends and I just got back from elven country. Almost all of them have agreed to call off the fighting.”
Tyan sank back into her cot. “Oh thank the gods. I came to Afira to start over, and the war kicked off pretty much as soon as I got here. I tried to make the best of it. Had little Nytra once it seemed like the war was just a fact of life. Maybe we really can have a good life now.”
“I think you can, Tyan,” said Daisy.
“How do you know my name?”
Daisy froze. “I, uh, one of the helpers here in the sick bay told me.”
Tyan nodded, her eyes mostly closed. “Your voice is kinda familiar. Thought maybe we knew each other.”
Daisy shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Daisy. I’m a servant of Idunna.”
“Yeah, I definitely don’t know you,” replied Tyan. “But thanks for saving me and my baby. I owe you.”
“No problem,” said Daisy. “Happy to help.”
Tyan mumbled a few more words and slipped off to sleep, an easier sleep than she’d had in days. Daisy looked down at Tyan and her daughter and smiled. I’m glad she cleaned up her act. I guess I’m not the only one who can change.
Daisy walked to the edge of the sick bay, where Sash and Steel-Eyes were conferring with Larkin.
“It’s not a normal sickness,” said Sash, their voice thick with worry. “It’s not something you can catch. And it doesn’t seem like it’s magic, either.”
“What does that mean?” asked Larkin. “If it's not those, what is it?”
“Could be poison,” muttered Steel-Eyes.
“Poison?” repeated Daisy. “How would they have gotten it?”
“Camp eats together,” said Steel-Eyes. “Through food maybe.”
“Who would poison their food?” asked Larkin. “Is somebody sneaking in and poisoning them?”
“Steel-Eyes does not know.”
“We should go to the tribunal,” said Sash.
Daisy sighed. “Well if it’s poison, we should hurry. Who knows if there’s more being put in the food now?”
They hurried back to the Table. A few Ronan’el stood around to watch, and not all of the leaders were present–Sithrin was missing. Bruzohr noticed that the group had returned and beckoned them over.
“How is the situation?” he asked.
“All the sick folks are stable,” said Daisy. “We helped the kids first, and we had enough energy to help all the adults, too. But even after healing magic, they all have severe stomach pain.”
Shez furrowed her brow. “That’s odd. Shouldn’t your magic heal them fully?”
“There’s lasting damage,” explained Daisy. “More healing could help, but to save the people close to dying, we had to give people only what they needed to stay alive.”
“So why lasting damage?” asked Urdukk. “Do you know what’s causing it all?”
Steel-Eyes spoke plainly. “Poison.”
“Poison?!” cried Abzal. “Who would poison our children?” He glared at the adventurers. “Was it you?”
Daisy looked shocked. “What? Why would we poison you? After all we’ve done to help you, and then heal them anyway?”
“You’re the only non-Ronan’el among us,” reasoned Urdukk. “It must be you.”
“Yes, you poisoned us,” continued Abzal. “You spent years and years with the elves, delaying, and you came to finish the job of killing us all to spare more elven lives.”
“Come now,” said Bruzohr heavily, “the sickness began well before they returned to our camp. It’s been five or six days since the first case, and they’ve only been here three days. It’s impossible.”
“It could be an elven agent,” suggested Shez. “Perhaps an elf has snuck into our camp and is poisoning us from within.”
“There’s an elf before us!” cried Abzal, pointing to Sash. “Look no further!”
“This elf spent years serving our interests,” argued Rhuk. “To tell us it’s poison if they’re the poisoner would be preposterous.”
“Can you trace the poison?” asked Bruzohr. “Can you determine where it came from?”
“We’ll find it,” said Larkin. “And we’ll stop anybody else from getting hurt.”
“See that you do,” replied Bruzohr. “Go now.”
The adventurers turned and walked back into the main camp.
“How are we going to find it?” asked Sash. “We don’t have poison to start from.”
“Gimme a second,” said Daisy. She closed her eyes. Idunna, please help me find the source of the poison. To help save lives and stop more sickness and pain, please help us to discover what this poison is and how to stop it.
She opened her eyes. Ahead of her and to the left was a faint glowing light. She followed it, and the others walked close behind her. They cut through the camp–the mess area, the barracks, the smithies–and arrived at a smaller clan camp. It was abandoned. Tents still stood, fires still burned, pots of food still bubbled over the flames. But the Ronan’el who had lived here were gone.
“Who lives here?” asked Larkin.
“Ro’Yuavruuk,” said Steel-Eyes bitterly.
“Sithrin’s clan,” added Sash.
Daisy followed the light into a tent and rummaged through an abandoned bag. Inside were basic handicrafts, some rations, and a vial of pale pink liquid. She held it up. “This. This is the poison.”
Steel-Eyes muttered a spell over the vial and shook his head. “Not poison. Antidote.”
Daisy scowled. “It’s the antidote to the poison? Why would someone have that?”
Steel-Eyes reached into his bag and pulled out a small mechanical device. He fed a few drops from the vial into the mouth of the device, then spun its frame. At the device’s bottom, a small glass bottle filled with a thick blue liquid. He muttered the same spell over it and nodded. “This is poison. Made from fungus from Badlands.”
“Sithrin’s clan is from the Badlands,” said Sash, frowning.
“But why?” asked Larkin. “Why would she do this?”
“Not our business,” replied Steel-Eyes.
They raced back to the Table. The tribunal minus Sithrin was still gathered. Bruzohr looked back at them, surprised.
“You have an answer so soon? What is it?”
“Sithrin made the poison,” explained Sash. “Her camp is deserted, and we found a vial of the antidote in a tent there. The poison is made from a fungus from her clan’s lands.”
The tribunal looked at them, shocked. They sat silently for a moment. Then, Urdukk spoke.
“That monster,” he seethed. “How could she do this to her own people?”
“How many Ro’Yuavruuk are among the sick?” asked Abzal. “How many of Sithrin’s own are poisoned?”
Daisy sighed. “I didn’t see any.”
“Me neither,” said Larkin.
“So it’s true,” muttered Shez. “But I still don’t see why.”
“You must find her and bring her to justice,” said Bruzohr. “Track her. Find her. Discover why she would do this.”
“I cannot believe this,” cried Urdukk. “Betrayed by our own.”
“I will help you find her,” said Rhuk, her voice steady. “We will follow her steps and get answers.”
“You will leave in the morning,” ordered Bruzohr. “Get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you, I suspect.”
The tribunal turned to each other and discussed in impassioned whispers how this had come to pass, no one with more than a guess. The adventurers turned and went back to their small camp.
“It’s like it never ends,” said Daisy, sitting on her bedroll. “We were escorting a wagon a few weeks ago. Now we’re tracking down mass poisoners after all this?”
“Get rest,” muttered Steel-Eyes. “Big day tomorrow.”
Daisy frowned, but she knew he was right. She lay down and tried to sleep. Just before she eventually slipped off, she thought of Tyan and Nytra, and she offered a silent prayer that they would have a quiet simple life in the near future.
—
Rhuk stood on the sand and studied the ground. She leaned down and sniffed a pile of sand.
“This way,” she said, taking off toward the north.
Daisy, Larkin, Sash, and Steel-Eyes followed wearily behind. For two days, every moment had been the same. High alert. Scrutinizing patches of ground. Watching the sky change as the endless sands stretched in every direction. The Badlands were a miserable place. Rhuk had mentioned as they’d entered the Badlands on the first day that this place was considered a trial for Ronan’el, a holy test of survival, and Daisy grew surer with every minute that she understood why. Plants were few and far between, and those that existed were ugly and sparse. Steel-Eyes had excitedly pointed out a nasty-looking fungus on a rock, saying it was the source of the poison; knowing the poison’s details did not make the journey any more bearable. The sun was hot, the clouds were nowhere to be seen, the water was grainy and warm, and the endless up and down of climbing the dunes was tiresome. There was no wildlife she had seen, though Rhuk and Larkin had said they saw a few birds of prey overhead at one point. It was painful, monotonous, and frustrating. Daisy was deeply unhappy, and not just because of the climate.
It seemed to her that things had happened rapidly. One minute, she was in prison, the next on the run, then she was setting up a new life in Lo’Torrin, and suddenly she was mixed up solving crimes. Before she knew it, she was escorting Tartarus, then bargaining for her life, then visiting a holy Ronan’el site to meet Kast, and sailing back to Lo’Torrin to speak with Arokosiel. And then suddenly she was in Lo’Alarai, then Lo’Enthias, and attending carnivals and fighting vampires and changing course to Lo’Anagroth and Lo’Thalas. Then a wild jaunt through the In-Between, then healing orphans, then back to Lo’Alarai, then watching two gods fight it out, and healing poisoned Ronan’el. All of these things had happened quickly. But the two straight days of wandering around the sands of the Badlands were a slog. In prison in Despair, she had at least had the comfort that she had no choice in the matter, the notion that she was doing the right thing. But here? She was chasing a person who she’d counted as an ally who had hurt her other allies for reasons that remained unclear. It was like being suspended over a fire on a spit, always getting a little hotter, a little more uncomfortable, and having little say about it. Her time in the desert was like a sentence that had been passed on her for doing the right thing, and with every sandy step, she resented Sithrin just a little more for making her march around in the dry heat.
To occupy herself, she prayed a lot. Rhuk wanted them quiet so that they could travel stealthily, so talking to her friends was not an option. She longed to chat with Larkin and joke around and share things like a troubled past and a commitment to helping people. She wanted to talk to Sash, learn more about their archipelago and why it mattered so much to them, discover what made the mysterious elf tick. She even craved speaking to Steel-Eyes–she got it into her head that the right question at the right time would get the dwarf to open up and explain exactly why he was the way he was. She would have settled for a talk with Rhuk, getting to know what it was like to lead a whole massive group of people, learning about the lives of the black-scaled Ronan’el, gathering a better understanding of the people she had fought tirelessly to help. But none of that was an option, so she talked to Idunna instead. She prayed and prayed and prayed until her mind was numb.
It began simply enough. Idunna, please help us stay safe and find Sithrin so we can get some answers about the poisoning. And then, with time, she started asking for more basic things. Idunna, please help me keep my sanity out here with all the silence and watchfulness. It’s making me jumpy and weird. By the afternoon of the second day, she feared she had lost the thread of what a prayer was supposed to be. Idunna, please let me see a rabbit. Just one rabbit. Rabbits live everywhere. There’s gotta be one out here. Just lemme see one measly little rabbit. I want a rabbit friend. Please? And soon after, she resorted to just repeating the same prayer again and again. Idunna, please let me be okay. Please don’t let me go insane. Please let me be okay. Please don’t let me go insane. Please let me be okay. Please don’t let me go insane.
Because of this, it was an apparent miracle when Rhuk decided to call it a night and camp at the top of a tall sand dune from which they could see several miles around. Because they could watch for interlopers from a position of safety, Rhuk said they could talk quietly with and after dinner.
“How is everybody?” Daisy asked.
“Tired,” said Larkin.
“Yeah, tired,” agreed Sash.
“I can’t believe people live out here,” said Daisy. “I’d go crazy if I had to live out here.”
“Maybe Sithrin went crazy,” suggested Steel-Eyes.
“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” replied Daisy. “Think about it. She’s out here in the wastelands for her whole life, and she gets used to nothing ever happening, and then BOOM–war for ten years. Constant shit happening. That would explain everything.”
Rhuk chuckled. “All Ronan’el are expected to spend time here. It’s a rite of passage we make again and again.”
“How long?” asked Daisy.
“A month every year,” said Rhuk.
Daisy slapped her forehead. “Fuuuuuuck. That’s too much.”
Larkin giggled. “You okay, Daisy?”
Daisy sighed. “Not exactly. I mean, I’m, like, physically okay. Lots of sand in my boots, and I’m kinda achy, but I’m fine. But, like, mentally? I’m kinda nervous. There’s nothing to look at around here. I keep praying, but I think I’m saying bad prayers.”
“Bad prayers?” repeated Sash. “How can a prayer be bad?”
Daisy laughed nervously. “A couple hours ago, I prayed that the sun would change color so that something interesting would happen.”
Everyone laughed, even Steel-Eyes.
“We’ll find her soon,” said Rhuk. “And then you’ll be okay. There will be plenty to do then.”
Daisy frowned. “Aww, shit, are we gonna have to fight her? Isn’t she with, like, her whole clan?”
“We’re here to talk,” said Sash. “We shouldn’t have to fight anybody.”
“But we might, right?” Daisy sighed. “I don’t wanna fight a bunch of Ronan’el after we went to all that trouble trying to save them.”
“Calm down, little one,” said Rhuk. “Try closing your eyes and thinking of somewhere peaceful.”
Daisy closed her eyes. She thought of the orphanage in Lo’Thalas. Images of sick children filled her mind. She shook her head and tried again. She thought of the marketplace in Thistlewade. She felt herself being chased by guards sicced on her by her mother. She opened her eyes and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes and thought of Lo’Torrin and the little inn where she stayed. Everything that had followed rushed into her mind, and her heart began to race. She bit her lip. She thought of her prison cell in Despair. The panic of discovering that the jailkeeper meant to keep her locked up forever filled her lungs. No. Why did I even try that? She changed tactics. She focused not on a place, but on a feeling. Calmness. Peace. Belonging. Slowly, a place began to fill in in her mind. She was on a bed. The bed was in a large room. The room had a dresser and a closet and a door. There was a weight next to her on the bed. She turned and saw Candace lying next to her, a sly smile on her face. She braced herself, expecting the pain of their parting to sour the mental image. But it didn’t. She simply felt relaxed. She focused on it harder. The stale, almost musty smell of the old estate. The lumpy give of the bed. The little indentation on the closet door, behind which the secret compartment lay. The way the ceiling looked, with its familiar water stains shaped like a row of ducklings. The way Candace smelled–sweet and a touch milky, her hair floral and fresh.
It’s been eleven years. Gods, I remember when I was worried one year would be too much if I ran into her again. “It’s been over a year, Asp, I’ve moved on.” And I don’t know where she went to, or if she’d ever want to see me again, and it’s been eleven years. And I’m not even Asp anymore. She fell in love with Asp the con artist. Now I’m Daisy the healer. I don’t even know if I’m the same person anymore. I don’t know if she’d even like me the way I am now. I’d be a stranger with nothing in common with her. I need to let her go.
But she couldn’t release the comforting thought of lying there in her room in the old estate. She could feel her clarity coming back to her. In fact, she realized with a start that it had mostly come back without her realizing it. Thinking about being with Candace had simply brought her back to reality, and she chose to not second-guess that fact. And so she sat there in the dark on the top of a sand dune in the middle of the Badlands remembering what it was like to feel at peace, totally tuned out of the world around her. In some distant way, she could sense that her friends were talking, but it was insensible to her. She was just in her own mind, lying in bed a dozen years ago with someone who she’d lost track of, and she could not deny that the thought made her feel calm. She enjoyed it for a while longer, and then opened her eyes.
Steel-Eyes and Larkin were asleep. Sash was silently meditating at the edge of the dune. Rhuk stood looking out into the darkness.
“Rhuk?” asked Daisy.
Rhuk turned to her. “You okay?”
Daisy chuckled. “Yeah, I feel much better. Thanks.” She pointed to the others. “Is everybody asleep?”
Rhuk stifled a laugh. “Daisy, your friends went to bed about an hour ago. I’m first watch. You’ve been sitting there smiling for over three hours now. I take it you found a peaceful place?”
Daisy laughed in disbelief. “Over three hours?”
Rhuk nodded. “It must have been one very peaceful place.”
Daisy chuckled again. “It was. It, um, it really was.”
“Good,” said Rhuk. “Get some sleep. I think we’re closing in on Sithrin. You’re gonna need some rest.”
Daisy smiled and sighed. “Thanks, Rhuk. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Daisy laid her head down and let sleep wash over her. In her dreams, she saw nothing, but the smell of cherry blossoms mingled with the scents of her peaceful place, and she rested better than she had in a long, long time.
—
Rhuk studied a series of tracks that were imperceptible to Daisy, then pointed to the northeast. “The shrine. Of course. Let’s go.” She took off at as fast a pace as she could manage while staying silent.
The group followed behind. For a few miles, they passed over more dunes that seemed to Daisy to be the same as any dunes she had seen in the last three days. The journey today had been hard. Rhuk had moved faster than the first two days, and the landscape was just as empty as ever. Daisy’s mind strayed to her peaceful place throughout the day, and she managed to stay alert even as she felt self-conscious for thinking so much about something that was firmly in her past. But seeing Rhuk’s urgency, Daisy grew particularly focused. It seemed that something was finally about to happen, and knowing that it could be an impossible situation did not change the relief that the monotony was coming to an end.
Finally, they came over a sand dune and saw an outcropping of buildings. Several smaller structures surrounded one larger one which was grand and sublimely beautiful. It must be the shrine Rhuk mentioned, Daisy thought. Rhuk took them on a looping route around the backside of the tiny settlement and up the hill towards the shrine.
They emerged onto a flat stretch of sand with a lone tent before the shrine. Rhuk swept up and around the tent and paused, allowing the group to catch up. They did so carefully to ensure that they remained silent, something that Rhuk seemed to do effortlessly. Rhuk grabbed a tent flap and dove in. In the half of a moment that followed, Daisy saw Rhuk land on a silver Ronan’el, wrestle her hands behind her, and bind them with rope. Once the action was already over, Daisy recognized the silver Ronan’el as Sithrin, noting the odd and menacing silver robes she wore. She appeared to be less a clan leader and more a priestess of sorts.
Sithrin looked up at the group of adventurers standing just outside her tent. “Rhuk,” she said.
“Sithrin,” replied Rhuk from behind her, holding her so that she could not move.
“I knew you would come,” continued Sithrin. “It was only a matter of time.”
“You didn’t seem to be prepared for my arrival,” countered Rhuk.
“Perhaps not the preparation you expected,” said Sithrin, “but I am prepared nonetheless.”
“Why,” demanded Steel-Eyes. “Why poison.”
Sithrin cackled. “You found my poison, then? Yes, I did spread the way to eternal life.”
“Eternal life?” asked Larkin, growing frustrated. “You tried to kill people. That’s the opposite of eternal life.”
Sithrin shook her head, smiling wickedly. “Child, you do not understand. Baeroll, the god of this shrine, came to me long ago. He is the source of my visions, and he gave me the grandest vision yet. He is the patron of death, disease, and suffering, and he showed me a way for us to inflict that death and suffering without consequence. We simply had to make a small sacrifice, and we would be clear and free to join him in his plane of eternal death.”
“You are not making sense,” grunted Steel-Eyes.
“Your lack of understanding does not mean I am not making sense,” spat Sithrin. “The old ways of the Ronan’el have been forgotten. We used to make war as we pleased. But Bruzohr has neglected those ways. He is soft. He is too gentle. He is no Ronan’el. He has no respect for what we are supposed to be.”
Daisy grew horrified as she realized what Sithrin was saying. “You– You wanted war?”
Sithrin cackled again. “You still haven’t figured it out. I suppose that since you are too foolish to piece it together yourselves, I can tell you what I have done to restore honor to the Ronan’el. Perhaps then you will see for yourselves.” She licked her lips. “You followed Terrence Tartarrion Tartarus to the border. Yes?”
“Yes,” said Sash. “That’s how the treaty got broken.”
“I hired Tartarus,” said Sithrin proudly. “And you only left your precious archipelago in the first place because there was corruption there. Who do you think sowed that seed?”
Sash’s face went ashen. “I haven’t told anyone that.”
Sithrin smiled gleefully. “I placed an agent on the border with strict instructions to fire on any elf who crossed the treaty line. He was to kill you, but your little friend Brokk got you to safety. But that was fine, because the war did begin. The other Ronan’el sent you to get the elves’ agreement for their pathetic attempt at peace, and I knew that the elves would never sign under any ordinary circumstances. And for a decade, we had our war. But you created unordinary circumstances, didn’t you? By the time we heard that Kast had returned from the In-Between, we had enjoyed a righteous war for ten years. I counted on the last elves to stand firm before you. But you fooled Farboriel somehow, and Eerith caved like the whelp she is. I’ll admit, you are strange foes. I have underestimated you.”
“That’s right,” said Larkin, “you did underestimate us.”
Rhuk spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s an admission of treason, sabotage, and attacks on our people. We must have justice.”
“A trial before the tribunal will achieve that,” said Daisy, staring directly at Sithrin. “In a few days’ time, your former allies who you betrayed will decide your fate.”
“Kill her,” muttered Steel-Eyes. “She caused too much destruction.”
“No,” argued Larkin. “Killing her now would be unjust. She may be a monster, but she deserves a trial.”
“A trial is a foregone conclusion,” replied Rhuk. “They will surely vote to execute her.”
“So let them decide,” said Daisy. “They didn’t send us to kill her. They sent us to question her.”
Steel-Eyes was livid. “She lied! She used us! She killed! She tried to destroy her own people!”
“It’s not right,” cried Larkin. “She deserves justice too. We all do.”
“Sash?” asked Rhuk. “We are split. What do you think?”
Sash stared at Sithrin, who seemed all too happy to have her fate in their hands. “Why haven’t your people come? We haven’t been that quiet. Where are they?”
Sithrin grinned. “They’ve consumed the poison, of course. They are ascending to Baeroll’s plane.”
“Too many victims!” cried Steel-Eyes. He stepped forward and wrapped his hands around Sithrin’s throat. He strangled her for a moment, then jerked his clenched hands to the side. Her neck snapped in a sickening crack, and her head hung limply to the side.
“Steel-Eyes!” roared Larkin. “You can’t just murder her because you don’t like what she did!”
“Sash didn’t even give an opinion!” shouted Daisy. “You decided by yourself!”
Rhuk held up her hands. “The tribunal would have decided for execution. Steel-Eyes has spared us transporting her back to the camp. There is nothing that could have stopped this.”
Larkin and Daisy glared at Steel-Eyes, who simply grunted and left the tent. Together, the group headed around to the front of the shrine and inspected the area. Scores of silver Ronan’el lay on the ground, foam at their mouths.
Sash sat on the ground and meditated for a moment, mouthing a prayer. Daisy and Larkin went from Ronan’el to Ronan’el, searching for someone who was merely unconscious. Not a single one was left alive. Steel-Eyes wandered the camp around the shrine, shaking his head, and Rhuk simply stood at Sithrin’s tent. Sash stood.
“Godtide Sasharaan says that their souls did not arrive at the plane of death. This was all for nothing.”
Daisy and Larkin hung their heads.
“We should return,” said Rhuk. “The tribunal should know so that we can decide what to do now.”
The group fell in line behind Rhuk. They once again did not speak , but not for fear of being detected; the division in the group over how things had been handled was deep and bitter. But the journey was faster this time–a straight line back to the Ronan’el encampment. Still, it was another night and most of another day in the mind-numbing Badlands, and Daisy did her best to keep her spirits out of the depths despite the wealth of death that had accompanied the trip. She was only occasionally successful, but given the situation, she counted even occasional success as better than nothing.
—
The group followed Rhuk back into camp. The soldiers who saw them all shared a reaction–excitement at seeing them followed by disappointment at the faces the group wore. They wasted no time; they went to the Table. Rhuk took her seat amongst the others, and everyone glanced sadly at Sithrin’s empty seat.
“What has happened?” asked Bruzohr. “Where is Sithrin?”
The group looked uneasily at each other. It was unclear what to say.
“Steel-Eyes killed her,” said the dwarf after a moment.
The tribunal sat silently for a moment.
“Explain,” ordered Bruzohr.
Steel-Eyes said nothing further, however, so Daisy spoke up. “We got to the shrine. Rhuk subdued Sithrin. Sithrin said that she disapproved of the way Ronan’el make choices now. She said war is the way of things.” She caught herself avoiding certain parts of what Sithrin had said, and she decided that sparing the council the grislier, more traitorous details was not dishonesty, but mercy. “She said that Baeroll gave her a way to go to his plane. The way was war and death. So she arranged the war. She sent us to cross the border without our knowing. She had a soldier at the border fire the first shot. She let us try the treaty thinking the elves would never sign. She started to poison your people as a way to get them to Baeroll. When we checked the rest of the camp, they had all voluntarily taken the poison, it seemed. And there are none left. They are all dead.”
“And Sithrin?” asked Abzal. “Steel-Eyes killed her? When? How?”
Daisy gritted her teeth. “We were discussing what to do and how to handle it. Some of us wanted to bring her back for a trial. Some of us wanted her executed on the spot. Some of us were still deciding. When she said the whole clan was dead, Steel-Eyes killed her.”
“And how can we know this is true?” demanded Abzal. “This is hearsay, and now a member of the tribunal has been slain without our judgment.”
Urdukk inclined his head toward Abzal. “Exactly! This is without law or tradition. It is an honorless death that we cannot abide by. We must–”
“I was there,” interrupted Rhuk. “I saw it all. Daisy is telling the truth. And you cannot pretend that your desire to have Sithrin back here is for any reason other than wanting to order her death yourself.”
Urdukk frowned but said nothing further.
“All the Ro’Yuavruuk are dead,” said Bruzohr sadly. “We’ve lost a huge portion of the living Ronan’el. If we have so many dead, the elves will have a huge advantage in the war. The desert elves have left the warfront, but the war has raged on. We are in a terrible position.”
“Then perhaps peace is the solution,” suggested Shez. “After all this time and all this work from this group, we have only one signature separating us from peace. If we move with haste to end the war, we could have safety. We could have time to recover and determine what to do about our loss.”
“The elves will not accept peace with us in such a vulnerable position,” said Urdukk. “They have less reason now to work with us than ever.”
Daisy raised a hand. “Give us a chance. We got everyone but Norasynia, and she said she’d sign if everyone else did. And everyone else did. Even if she tries to go back on that, we can still try something new. There’s no reason not to try.”
Abzal and Urdukk glared at her, but Bruzohr spoke first.
“This is our best bet. Please, we must ask this one last thing of you. Hurry to Lo’Alarai. Speak to Norasynia. Give us the peace we need to rebuild our people.”
Daisy bowed. “We will leave immediately. Thank you.”
She turned and left, and after a moment, her friends followed her. She headed to the sick bay and found Tyan’s bed. She looked much better, and Nytra was sitting in her lap.
“Tyan,” Daisy said. “Are you feeling better?”
“I am,” said Tyan. “So’s Nytra. I was kinda fuzzy when I woke up before, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who healed us, right?”
Daisy nodded. “Yeah, that was me.”
“Well, thanks,” replied Tyan. “I don’t know what I’d do without my little girl.”
Daisy smiled as she looked at Tyan. You have come a long way, girl. And I’m proud of you. I wish I could tell you that. “I have to leave now. I’m probably not coming back, at least for a while. I just wanted to say goodbye and good luck.”
Tyan smiled, her brow furrowed. “Okay, sure. Bye, then. Good luck to you too.”
Daisy smiled. You will never know. And that’s okay. I wish I could tell her, though. She walked a few paces away and closed her eyes.
Idunna, please bless the Ronan’el and let them have peace. And please bless our mission so that we can bring it.
She marched from the camp back to the road where the war had begun and waited for her friends to join her.
“One last stop,” she said. “If we march hard, we can be there in two days. Ready?”
Larkin smiled. “Ready.”
Sash nodded. “I’m ready.”
Steel-Eyes searched Daisy’s eyes, looking for the resentment she’d glared at him with in the days prior. Seeing none, he nodded too. “Steel-Eyes is ready.”
Daisy smiled. “Then let’s go. Hopefully we don’t fall into the In-Between or something on the way.”
You can read the next chapter here!
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