Leesil wasn't certain of the distance, but the journey would likely take the rest of the night. They continued until the forest began to lighten with the dawn and they emerged in a shattered clearing of broken branches, torn flowers, and one large uprooted birch.
Chap stopped in sudden weariness, glanced up at Wynn, and took a few steps into the clearing. The sage joined him, placing her hand on his back. Leesil was about to call them back when Chap turned away with Wynn at his side. The dog stalked on through the trees with his head hanging.
They all moved on, and Leesil saw the edge of the barrier woods.
He wanted to run but held back, not wishing to leave Magiere or the others behind as they entered the woods' passage. When he broke through the ferns at the far end, Leesil emerged in the familiar glade.
"Mother?"
He didn't see her at first. She came around from behind her domicile elm and stopped.
"Leshil?"
The hem of her ivory wrap dragged across the grass as she walked closer. Her silken hair spilled down her shoulders and disappeared behind.
Leesil looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her washing through him.
"You're free," he said bluntly. "You're leaving with me."
He reached back for Magiere-who had stood by him and fought for him, even against his own destructive obsession. She clasped his hand.
Favoring her swollen lip, Wynn smiled as Chap trotted up to Nein'a.
Sgaile and Gleann politely remained by the ferns, but Sgaile confirmed Leesil's words.
"You have been released. Most Aged Father told me this himself."
Leesil didn't know what to expect as his mother stared at him with anxious doubt. She glanced about the clearing's border trees. For an instant Leesil saw a vicious glower spread across her elegant features.
"Free," she whispered.
Leesil wanted to take hold of his mother, but he simply stood near her. "Yes... finally."
"What will I do?" she asked.
There was a strange loss in her voice, as if doubt would never fade completely.
Nein'a had been a skilled assassin and spy, a wife then widow, a mother and a daughter... and Anmaglahk. She had also been trapped alone in this glade for eight years. Leesil reached out slowly to take her fingers.
"Come with Magiere and me."
Anxiety grew in her large eyes.
"Into the human world again?" She shook her head. "No... too long, too many years there."
Leesil felt as if he'd been dropped over a precipice. Then his thoughts traced backward through what life he'd had with her.
She had been ordered to Venjetz and lived there for over twenty years, had birthed and cared for him, trained him, and all the while held Most Aged Father's bloodlust at bay. Then imprisoned and alone, without Gavril. How long had it been since she'd lived as she wanted? As much as it hurt, Leesil tried to understand.
But what else could she do? She had no home here-only enemies. Leesil looked at Magiere in deep concern. The two of them could not stay.
Gleann stepped cautiously forward. "Cuirinnena, do you remember me... Sgailsheilleache's grandfather? I have a granddaughter who is... not unlike your Leshil. I fear she grows tired of being the only woman of the house. Our settlement is small and simple, but there is always room for one more."
Nein'a looked at him. "Gleanneohkan'thva? Yes, I remember you."
Her words came evenly, and Leesil thought he caught something more than passing recognition within them. When he glanced at Gleann, he remembered how quickly the old man had arrived for Magiere's trial before the gathering, and how familiar he'd been with Brot'an.
Brot'an and his mother-both dissidents among the Anmaglahk, both acquainted with Gleann. Had Sgaile ever noticed this?
"Do us this honor," Gleann said to Nein'a and then turned his owlish gaze upon Leesil. "If that is agreeable to both you and Leshil."
Nein'a's serious and exquisite face twisted in pain.
It was clear to Leesil that she wanted to accept Gleann's offer of a small quiet place in her own world where she might find some normal life of her choosing. Yet a part of Leesil grew anxious at the thought of leaving her among those who'd imprisoned her... and perhaps others who'd plotted with her over so many years. But if he trusted anyone among those he had met in this land to help her, it would be Gleann.
Nein'a gripped Leesil's fingers, and Magiere moved up, still grasping his other hand. He stood there caught between the two women of his world.
When Leesil looked at Magiere, he thought of the wedding to come... someday. He would swear fealty to her before their friends and, he hoped, her aunt Bieja. Shouldn't his own mother be present as well?
"You must continue," Nein'a said. "The ancestors will guide you. Do not let anything sway you when the path becomes clear."
It never occurred to Leesil before how much she was like her people, down to their fanatical superstitions. He'd seen the ghosts at the naked tree beyond the serpent and heard them call him by a name he didn't want. But he'd seen a ghost or two in his own life. Most were somewhere between an annoyance and a threat to be banished. They weren't worth this kind of blind faith.
Leesil saw how much Gleann's offer meant to her. Perhaps she would be safe and could come back to herself-to the woman he preferred her to be, his mother.
"All right," he said. "Come back to Crijheaiche with us, and we'll talk."
"Crijheaiche?" she repeated.
"Be at ease," Gleann said. "You will not see anyone you do not wish to."
Sgaile stepped forward, stripping off his cloak. "Put this on and over your head."
Of all the things Sgaile had done, for this Leesil felt most grateful.
"Do you have things to gather?" Wynn asked in her sensible way. "Anything here you wish to bring?"
Nein'a looked about the clearing, and her eyes sparked with the smoldering anger Leesil remembered so well.
"Only what once belonged to me," she said, and turned away into the tree.
When she reemerged, she held the bundled cloth with the skulls of Gavril and Eillean.
Leesil breathed in with difficulty, as Nein'a took her first faltering steps toward the ferns. He walked beside Magiere, not knowing what more to say. She linked her arm with his as they began the journey back.
Chapter Twenty-Three.
T he return to Crijheaiche left them all exhausted, even Nein'a, who looked wary of her surroundings. Sgaile settled her in a small domicile tree by the river, close to Gleann and Leanalham. When he offered to sit in vigil for Nein'a, Leesil insisted upon doing this himself. he return to Crijheaiche left them all exhausted, even Nein'a, who looked wary of her surroundings. Sgaile settled her in a small domicile tree by the river, close to Gleann and Leanalham. When he offered to sit in vigil for Nein'a, Leesil insisted upon doing this himself.
Magiere understood, and so she took Wynn and Chap back to their own quarters.
Chap had been behaving strangely since the end of the trial-from the moment he and Leesil went for a final word with Most Aged Father. His crystal blue eyes shifted continually. Magiere suspected that the strain of the past days affected him as much as any of them.
In all honesty, she'd have much preferred to sit with Leesil, but if Nein'a wished to speak to him, they would need time alone. Poor Wynn looked quite a mess with her swollen jaw and tangled hair. The young woman had been abused too much over their travels.
"You sleep now," she said, guiding Wynn to a cushioned bed ledge inside the elm. "Save the bath for when you wake up."
Chap whined loudly.
Some might think it difficult to read a canine's face. Not so for Magiere, after all the time she'd spent with him. She could read his agitation in the bristled fur and twitch of his jowls. He prowled toward Wynn in halting steps.
Wynn rolled over on the bed ledge to sit up. With dark circles under her eyes, she glared at Chap.
"Not until I am ready!" she grumbled. "Get that through your thick head!"
Lately, her temper had grown shorter, but this was perhaps for the best.
"What now?" Magiere asked.
"He wants to talk to you," Wynn said tiredly. "As if that is all I am good for anymore. Chap, just go to sleep, and let me do the same!"
Chap stalked closer to the sage, his eyes locked into hers. Wynn let out a sigh and slid off the ledge to the chamber floor.
"He says he is afraid... of showing me something, but you have to know the truth, and this is the only way."
She wavered, looking small and young to Magiere.
Too many times Chap had revealed something that made Magiere wish she had a way to speak alone with the dog. Wynn might have grown hardened in the last two seasons, but there were still things the sage was not prepared to face. Things that Magiere herself didn't care to think on, and it made her dread what Chap might pass to her through Wynn.
Magiere sank down, the three of them in a huddle, and ran a hand over Chap's silver-gray ear.
"What is it?" she whispered.
The dog glanced with concern at Wynn, but then fixed his eyes on Magiere. She stared back, growing more unsettled by the moment. Until Wynn whimpered.
The sage pulled up her knees, hiding her face in her hands, and began to sob.
"Wynn?" Magiere's fear sharpened. "Chap, whatever you're doing, stop it now!"
As she reached for Wynn, the sage cringed away, then clutched Magiere's wrist tightly.
"Once we leave elven land," she said, her voice low, "never come back... you must never set foot here again!"
As much concern as Magiere had for Wynn, she glared at Chap. He dipped his muzzle, flinching under her watchful eyes. Whatever he said to the sage, he didn't stop. Wynn's fingers tightened on Magiere's wrist, and the sage began to whisper Chap's words.
The longer Chap spoke through Wynn, the more numb Magiere became, until all she felt was the same shudder in her flesh that grew each time she stepped within a domicile tree.
"You were made to breach these lands... to breach any last refuge of the living," was the last thing Wynn said.
Magiere's mind rolled in a tangled mess as Wynn crawled back into bed, hiding her face.
Magiere sat upon the chamber floor with Chap.
She kept hearing words in her head spoken in pieces. Some from the last memory Chap had stolen from Most Aged Father. And more from what she'd heard others say. The worst was the missing piece from Chap's delusion spawned by sorcery.
No undead existed... before the lost war of the Forgotten History.
No undead rose... but humans.
No undead walked elven lands... but her.
In the forest of Pudurlatsat, far south in Droevinka, Chap had fallen prey to a phantasm cast by the undead sorcerer Vordana. Magiere and Leesil had suffered the same, each experiencing a delusion fed by their worst fears-and perhaps something more hidden within each of them.
Chap had never told Magiere or anyone of his delusion until now.
He had seen her with an army, its ranks filled with creatures and beasts driven by madness for slaughter. She stood at the head of those forces in black-scaled armor, fully feral with her dhampir nature cut loose. Among the horde were the shadowed and gleaming-eyed figures, as in Magiere's own delusion and nightmares. The undead waited for her to lead them into a thriving forest. Everything died in her wake... under their hunger.
In Most Aged Father's memory, the undead horde hadn't breached the elven forest. Those who fled to that final refuge huddled together, listening to the sounds of starving undead legions tearing each other apart.
Magiere cowered on the elm's chamber floor. She had been imbued... infected with the nature of a Noble Dead, and yet was still a living thing. This had been accomplished with the blood of the five races, the Uirishg. By their blood used in her conception, and the life within her, Magiere could go wherever she wished.
The undead could not breach First Glade or the forest it touched. Not until the war came again to cover the world-and Magiere was born.
This was the reason she had been made.
Chap's understanding of all these pieces, much of it hidden or stolen by his kin, was the worst thing he could have done to her.
That wasn't the end of what was grinding Magiere down. Chap knew what Leesil's strange name meant. He heard the name of the female elder in Most Aged Father's memory, the one called Leshiara-Sorrow-Tear.
Leesil... Leshil... Leshiarelaohk... Sorrow-Tear's Champion.
Magiere leaned on both hands, trying to draw in breath. Chap crept in, brushing his muzzle against her face, but she barely felt it.
Nein'a and her confederates envisioned their own way to deal with this unknown enemy that Most Aged Father feared would come again. Leesil had been conceived as their instrument, made for the need of the living with the skill for killing that the Anmaglahk knew so well.
And Magiere? She had been born tainted by the undead to breach all last refuges of life.
Each of them made for opposing sides of a war yet to come.
She couldn't stop the tears slipping from her eyes.
Small hands gripped her shoulders. Wynn knelt down, and Magiere collapsed into the sage's lap.