CHAPTER 44 Torj
Torj
‘Hope and poison share one critical property: dosage determines outcome. Too little of one or too much of the other can be equally fatal’
– The Poisoner’s Handbook
TORJ SPOKE THOSE words to Wren soul to soul, with all the reverence and love he could muster, and the relief in her eyes threatened to unravel him completely. Despite the roses he delivered, the news he brought with him was not good, and he hated that her reprieve would only last mere moments.
You’re a sight for sore eyes, Embers, he told her.
Wren’s gaze moved over him methodically, studying him. You look better . . .
I am. Dessa and Zavier gave me something to help.
Wren’s eyes twinkled. Do I even want to know?
Probably not, he allowed. But the important thing is that I’m here with you. And will be, for as long as you need me.
I’ll never not need you, Bear Slayer.
That’s not true, Embers. But you have me all the same.
Wren’s attention slid to the cart behind him. Why do I get the sense there is more to this tale?
As if in answer, a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the verdant fields.
Because there is, Torj told her grimly, before guiding Tucker to the head of the force where Wilder was waiting, Wren following on their heels.
Wilder gaped at the supply of silvertide when Torj reached him. ‘Where did those come from?’
He wasn’t the only one. Torj’s arrival had caught the attention of Lucian and Darian, as well as Lord Briar and Lord Pendelton, who insisted on stopping, drawing their company to an abrupt halt so they could gather around the Bear Slayer.
Shifting uneasily in his saddle, Torj retrieved the map from his pocket and passed it across to Wilder.
‘When Wren was studying for her opus at Drevenor, she discovered that places where she’d used her storm magic flourished in ways that regular land didn’t.
When she first arrived in Delmira after the shadow war, she poured her power into the land in her grief.
Those places are marked on that map, and over the past few days, I rode to the closest locations to our base. I sent scouts to the others.’
‘And?’ Wilder pressed hopefully.
Torj didn’t dare look in Wren’s direction, not with Lucian watching like a hawk, not when the words about to spill from his lips were so wretched.
‘Silvertide did grow in those locations,’ he said slowly. ‘But everywhere I went, it was burned to a crisp.’
‘What?’ Wren breathed. ‘It’s gone? All of it?’
Torj dipped his head in confirmation. ‘I salvaged what I could from the outskirts of every field I visited. But . . . it has been destroyed. My scouts reported the same from their locations.’
Wilder cursed.
‘This confirms it, then,’ Wren murmured. ‘Silas knows about the roses and what they mean to us, what they can do . . . that they threaten the advantage he has over us.’
Torj nodded. ‘I think that’s a safe bet. My scouts will return with what little they were able to recover, but it won’t be much.’
‘How much of the cure can you produce with the silvertide we have?’ Darian asked, scanning the cart’s supplies critically.
‘I don’t know,’ Wren replied. ‘It depends on the state of the roses themselves. Even if they look intact, they could be damaged by smoke or ash. As soon as we establish another base, I can work on more. But we need to preserve these stores with silkspore until then.’ She fiddled with her belt of potions before speaking again.
‘There is one more place, not marked on the map . . . It may have what we need.’
Torj frowned, looking down at the locations he’d systematically checked off at her request. Why had she not trusted him with one more?
‘Where?’ he asked.
Wren pointed to the map. ‘If we take a slight detour before the ravine here, this area might have some of the roses we need. Then we can make camp, and hopefully the other alchemists and I can brew more of the cure by night.’
‘Sounds like a good plan,’ Wilder allowed as Torj folded up his map and returned it to his pocket.
‘Sounds like the only plan,’ Torj muttered.
Over the next two days, as they journeyed towards the ravine, Torj and his fellow Warswords were vigilant about sending out patrols – they needed to be aware of their surroundings at all times.
Everyone, even the shieldbearers, knew what a risk it was to move such a large company out in the open, but it was a necessity.
On the third morning, Torj assessed their reports. ‘Where are the scouts who went south?’ he asked Darian, scanning the handful of warriors who had arrived at dawn and were now tending to their sweaty horses. ‘There were two . . .’
But no answer came.
‘Doesn’t look like they’ve returned yet,’ Kipp said with a frown.
‘They should be back by now,’ Torj replied. ‘They should have been the first to arrive. Who did we send ahead?’
‘Wilder and Thea,’ Kipp told him, his voice low.
Torj signalled for their company to halt. ‘Then we wait for their report. If the southern scouts aren’t back by then, we have to assume they’re dead.’
Kipp nodded grimly. ‘I think you’re right.’
Torj addressed the company. ‘We’ll make camp tonight when we find suitable grounds. For now, water your horses, see to your needs. As soon as we’re rejoined by Warswords Hawthorne and Embervale, we’ll ride hard. Be prepared.’
‘Someone is watching us,’ Darian remarked from his saddle.
Torj had felt it too – eyes on them from somewhere in the distance. But no attack came. No challenge. Just the weight of observation, growing heavier with each league. ‘I know.’
Stay close, Embers, he said through the bond, and her lightning flickered back in response.
Another hour passed before Kipp called out, ‘They’re back!’
Torj whirled around to see the married Warsword couple ride into the clearing, their cheeks flushed with exertion.
‘Well?’ he prompted when he reached them, with Wren and Darian close behind.
‘No enemy scouts or forces that we could see,’ Thea told them. ‘What have the rest reported?’
‘Our southern scouts haven’t returned,’ Torj replied.
‘So they’re dead,’ Thea surmised.
‘I’d say so,’ Torj agreed, his voice heavy with regret.
‘The good news is that you were right about what was on the map,’ Wilder said, lacing the words with meaning. ‘There’s also a decent flat area for camping, and the ravine is just beyond. An old trade route used to run through it, by the looks of things. Narrow passage.’
Thea chimed in. ‘You should see it, Torj – there’s enough there for Wren to make every kingdom its own batch of the cure—’
‘And what? It’s just sitting there, unguarded, untouched?’ he challenged.
‘As far as we could see,’ Wilder offered.
Torj turned to Wren. ‘Then that’s where we go. We move now.’