Chapter 21
SEEDS OF DOUBT
LEILANI
DAWNRISE HAS STAINED the sky a pale pink by the time we start our climb – the colour droplets of unmarked blood might make in a basin of water.
With every step, my ankle throbs in protest, and I resent the weight of my pack more.
I didn’t relish the idea of riding after being dragged through the mud and almost having my skull dashed against the rocks, but now I’m regretting leaving the horses tethered at our campsite.
But the air is too thin; they were never going to make it up the hill.
And we have to. I grit my teeth. I need to lead by example – sore ankle be damned.
I should have listened to Orthriel and returned to my tent last night, not traipsed after Blayze.
I’ll need to keep weight off my ankle when we get to Galtair – ask Tansy to examine it properly.
She should take a look at Delphine too; the loan of Blayze’s bedroll doesn’t appear to have done much good.
The shadows under her eyes are more pronounced than ever, and she’s pale as sea-foam, her hair an ominous shade of ink.
Even the vial of liquor around her neck has turned muddier, and there’s a strange limpness about her, as if her bones are wilting.
Or maybe it’s my imagination and I’m overreacting. I’m doing a lot of that recently.
I dreamt of the Faceless Woman again last night and my nerves are jangled, my spirit bowed under the weight of the unseen eyes that seem to follow me wherever I go.
‘Can you feel them?’ I ask Orthriel, as I trudge behind Astrophel, who’s leading us towards the city walls.
‘I’m not blessed with second-sight. Whether I feel something or not is immaterial. But you’re tired. That’s probably all this is. You’ve run yourself ragged. When we get to Galtair, you must rest.’
Astrophel stops short. ‘Did you see that?’
I peer over his shoulder into the distance, following his gaze. But the frozen hillside stretches still and desolate ahead of us.
‘I thought I saw a cragstalker.’
‘Aren’t they extinct?’ I cast my mind back to artefacts Izarius showed me during a lesson about Estelia’s lost species. I recall handling teeth and bones from the huge mountain-cats that once roamed the realm, before the Sickening killed off most of their prey.
Astrophel shrugs. ‘Likely just a frostfang.’
I start walking again, trying to ignore the creeping sensation of being tracked and the throb of my ankle as I crunch over newly-calloused frost, the thawing effects of the rainstorms already a distant memory. Galtair. Focus on getting to Galtair.
A sickening thud sounds behind me.
I spin round. Delphine. Sprawled on the ground. Blue blood seeping like an ink-spill over the jagged rock that’s split her head open. Her eyes are closed, and I can taste metal in the air.
Time stretches like honey drizzled from a spoon. Everything, and everyone, is eerily still.
Maris shoulders past me, sinks to the ground beside Delphine. Cradling her Guardian’s head in her lap, Maris shakes her gently. ‘She’s breathing, but her pulse… I need to get her to water.’ The hand Maris has pressed to the back of Delphine’s head is shaking almost as wildly as her voice.
Tansy kneels beside Maris, roots in her wicker basket. ‘Boughs, no blotmoss to staunch the bleeding.’ She braces an arm around Maris’ shoulders. ‘I need to stitch her head. Help me turn her.’
Tansy rolls up her sleeves, retrieves ether, needle and thread from her basket and works to close the wound. It doesn’t look all that deep, but Tansy’s stitches are not the small, precise ones I can trace on my own hand. These are jagged, of varying sizes.
Once she’s finished, Tansy rummages through her basket again, drawing out a small bottle of vinegar. She unstops the vial and waves it beneath Delphine’s nose. But it doesn’t revive her. She’s still breathing, but the movements of her chest are slight. Each breath strained and shallow.
‘Where’s the nearest spring?’ Maris’ eyes dart from face to face.
‘In Galtair,’ Orthriel whispers to me, confirming what I already feared.
I swallow and point to the crest of the hill.
Maris’ face crumples, her shoulders shaking. It’s too far.
Helplessness sweeps over me like an icy breeze as Blayze empties the dregs of his waterskin over Delphine’s prone body. The liquid trickles over her face, but she doesn’t wake.
‘It’s not enough.’ Maris is openly weeping now.
Did I do this? Did I drive her too hard? Make her faint? I should have doled out the starstone tincture at first light, not delayed, hoping it could wait until after our stay in Galtair.
Briar edges through the circle we’ve formed around Delphine.
She nuzzles Tansy’s side, staring up at her in a wordless exchange.
The Sickening may have robbed Arcelia’s creatures of human speech once more, a blessing temporarily regranted to them by the Elemagi’s Blood Bond, but there can be no doubt that the sylvanmares, at least, have retained their ability to understand the Mystic Tongue, even if they can no longer use it.
‘Are you sure?’ Tansy asks, stroking Briar’s neck. Her expression is tight, drawn with concern.
Briar noses into Tansy’s side again, harder this time, nods once. Then she draws back, paws the ground, rears on her hind legs, and launches herself forwards. We start back as the tip of her branched horn smacks the frosted earth, piercing the hillside, sending vibrations shuddering up my legs.
Water gurgles up through the fissure.
I’m taken back to nights reading the bestiary under cover of darkness, its accounts of sylvanmares creating springs from barren ground – just one of their curative powers, alongside their life-restoring, moss-green blood.
Maris and Tansy drag Delphine into the geyser, immersing her torso. The effect is almost instantaneous. Delphine comes to with a sharp intake of breath. I make the sign of the Star. She’s alive. But she’s still very pale, barely conscious, muttering merwords I can’t understand.
No one speaks. I can’t take my eyes off Delphine, can’t process how close we came to losing one of our own.
It’s some time before I realise Briar’s collapsed on the ground. Tansy is at her side.
‘Is she all right?’
Tansy looks up at me, eyes moist. ‘Every time sylvanmares use their magic, it weakens them, and using her powers here, so far from the Sacred Grove and the core of the Physic Tree, drains more Aether than back in the forests. If those levels run too low…’ She swallows.
‘She needs rest. I’ll prepare an elixir from some of the dried lilacs I brought with me when we arrive in Galtair.
They’re the sylvanmares’ favourite source of nourishment; it should help her regain strength…
’ Tansy trails off as Delphine moans and reaches for the back of her head. The desolate sound echoes the hillside.
I study the pearlsprite’s wan face. ‘Perhaps she should remain in Galtair?’
Maris looks up sharply.
‘If she’s this weak at low altitude, I’m not sure she should travel further north. We’ve no way of knowing how she’ll fare land-dwelling in the mountains and—’
‘Land-dwelling’s not why she collapsed.’ Maris cuts me off midsentence. ‘She had similar episodes back in Riveria, and she was in the water when they happened. Though, being in the water, she revived more quickly.’
There’s a wrongness in her face as she kneels beside Delphine. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused and she’s wringing her hands.
‘I don’t un—’
‘She’s been poisoned.’
The air turns deathly still.
‘What are you implying?’ Astrophel snaps.
‘I’m not accusing you of poisoning her.’ Maris rolls her eyes. ‘Look, she asked me not to say anything – she didn’t want a fuss.’ Maris points at the vial around Delphine’s neck. ‘See how dull it is?’
We nod.
‘It contains water from her birthspring along with her spirit pearl; it’s how she’s able to survive on land.
A pearlsprite’s wellbeing is entwined with that of their water-source as well as the Aether core, and Delphine’s spring – what’s now called the Blood Basin – is infected with strangleweed, one of several noxious algae to spread through the Isles since the Sickening was unleashed.
We’ve lost many of our pearlsprites to its choking threads.
’ Maris’ voice is fraying, like she’s on the verge of tears.
‘The effects on Delphine are showing themselves in ebbs and flows. That’s why I didn’t want her to tide-twist, why I wouldn’t let her weather-weave.
’ Maris’ eyes flick to mine. ‘It drains her Aether, leaves her weakened. More susceptible to the poison.’
‘Very like what’s happening to our moss-maidens.’ Tansy’s eyes are soft as moonslight. ‘They’re connected to the spirit trees they inhabit, and we’ve suffered heavy losses too as our forests are ravaged by blights.’
‘That’s why Delphine’s been so adamant about accompanying me.
’ Maris shakes her head sadly. ‘She’s lost many of her sisters, knows she may not have long left herself.
She saw this as an opportunity to play her part.
Fight back.’ Maris clears her throat, dashes her sleeve across her eyes.
‘She understands the risks. She’s not a child.
’ Maris is looking at me again. Her voice stronger now.
‘Delphine believes she can be useful. Who knows how her ability to water-weave might change the course of our collective fortunes. The moment may come when you’ll thank your precious stars that we took her with us. ’
She has a point. Delphine is well aware of the danger, and more than capable of making her own choices.
She isn’t a child. Besides, I can’t guarantee the safety of any one of the Quaternity.
The search for the Starlight Staff could prove fatal for any – and indeed all – of us.
Especially if I let my emotions drive me as they have been since that night in the remembrance garden.