David Wells - Cursed Bones

“On that count we agree,” Trajan said, “but I’m still confused by a great many things. Why were you with Phane’s men if your husband sent us warning against him?”

“My husband and I are at war with Phane,” Isabel said. “But, for a number of reasons, Phane believes that I’ve turned against Alexander, so he’s issued orders that I’m to be treated with respect and brought before him.”

“And then what?”

“And then I intend to kill him,” Isabel said.

Trajan stared incredulously, then burst out laughing.

“I hate Phane as much as anyone,” he said, once he’d contained his mirthless laughter, “but I’m not fool enough to believe he would let you get close to him if you were any threat.”

Isabel shrugged. “I guess it’s all a matter of perception. He believes that I’m his puppet, a tool he can use to undo my husband. That belief will allow me to get close enough to strike.”

Trajan shook his head. “He’ll kill you.”

“Perhaps,” Isabel said quietly. “But I have nowhere else to go.”

“Why?” he asked.

Isabel hesitated, unsure of how much she should reveal.

“He’s infected me with his dark magic,” she said. “Even now, it’s working to subvert my free will and turn me against everything and everyone that I love.”

Trajan sat back, staring at her intently.

After a moment, Isabel decided she had a few questions of her own. “Why doesn’t my magic work?”

“So you admit to being a witch,” Trajan said, sitting forward again.

Isabel shrugged. “Of course I’m a witch. I’m a triumvir of the Reishi Coven.”

Trajan frowned in confusion, appraising Isabel intently before speaking again. “Magic is forbidden on Karth. It has been since the end of the Reishi War. My father heard reports that you used magic to kill a man. That’s why we were sent to capture you.”

“If the House of Karth outlawed magic, then how have you stood against the Regency for so long?” she asked.

“The Regency also prohibits magic,” Trajan said. He paused, staring at the table as if weighing how much to tell her. “Only the witches of the Sin’Rath Coven possess magic on Karth,” Trajan said, “and they are widely believed to be a myth-a story parents tell their children to make them behave.”

Isabel stopped chewing and stared at Trajan, her mind working furiously to understand the implications of his statement. “But you know otherwise,” she said.

“Yes, the Sin’Rath are very real,” he said. “I do not trust them, yet they hold great sway over my father.” He stopped as if he’d said too much.

“Trajan, I can help you kill Phane, but I need to know what I’m dealing with here. Did you capture me at the behest of this Sin’Rath Coven?”

“I believe so,” he said. “The order came from my father, but he has been working very closely with the coven since the Regency attacked and scattered our forces into the jungle.”

Isabel leaned forward intently. “Why won’t my magic work?” she asked again.

He regarded her for a moment before nodding as he withdrew a vial from his pouch.

“The jungle contains a great many plants,” he said. “This is nectar of the malaise weed. It diminishes a person’s emotions. It’s commonly used to aid people grieving for the loss of a loved one. My father’s orders were very specific. You are to be dosed with malaise-weed nectar once per day. I don’t pretend to understand why, but I was told that it will prevent you from using your magic.”

She sat back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. At least the loss of her magic was only temporary.

“Why don’t you trust the Sin’Rath?” she asked.

“I will tell you a story,” he said. “Some years ago my eldest brother spoke harshly of the Sin’Rath. He told me how he resented the influence they held over our father and how he intended to reject their counsel once he ascended to the throne. Then he went to meet the witches for the first time.” Trajan paused, lost in thought.

“He returned a changed man. He was enamored with them, spoke of their great beauty and wisdom, pledging to work hand in hand with the coven for the greater glory of Karth. My brother was not prone to sudden changes of mind; he was a very deliberate and thoughtful man. But one meeting with the Sin’Rath and he was under their spell.”

“So you’ve never met them,” Isabel said.

“No,” Trajan said, shaking his head. “My mother forbade it. I believe she secretly hated and feared them, though she never spoke openly of it. I’m to meet the Sin’Rath for the first time when I arrive with you,” he said as he stood.

“I need to think about everything you’ve told me. If you truly are Phane’s enemy, then perhaps together we could bring him down. There will be more time to talk on the trail. We’ll leave within the hour. Your equipment will be returned to you, but your weapons will not.”

“Fair enough,” Isabel said. “What about my armor? The jungle’s a dangerous place.”

He appraised her for a moment before nodding.

Trajan and his twenty men moved through the jungle with the same kind of ease that Isabel could travel through the GreatForest. They picked their path intuitively, selecting a course that meandered through the dense underbrush to make the trek easier while diminishing any sign of their passage.

Two men escorted Isabel at all times, always careful to guide her safely through the jungle, often correcting her course and pointing out potential dangers. Of course, their true purpose was to prevent her from escaping, but she didn’t care since she had no such intention. She had nowhere to go and no idea how to get there. Her course was set. She would speak with the King of Karth. Things would become clearer after that.

During the journey, she peppered her escorts with questions, trying to learn all she could about the jungle, its many plants, both dangerous and medicinal, and its animals, both the ones she was familiar with and the more exotic creatures that roamed the dense wilds.

Each day, Trajan made her drink a cup of tea laced with a drop of malaise-weed nectar to inhibit her emotional intensity and render her connection to the firmament too dangerous to access. She accepted without protest, although she did complain about the bitter taste.

On the third day of travel, Trajan dropped back from the front of the group, dismissing Isabel’s escorts with a gesture. They faded into the jungle, while remaining close enough to come to his aid should the need arise.

“My men tell me you’re full of questions,” Trajan said.

“I grew up in a forest,” Isabel said. “I can tell you a thousand things about that forest that a casual observer would never know. Your jungle has sparked my curiosity, so I ask a lot of questions.”

He chuckled. “One could spend his whole life walking the jungle and learn something new each day. We have shamans who study their whole lives, passing their lore to the next shaman-in-waiting, and yet there are always things they do not know.”

“Earlier this morning your men prevented me from walking beneath a particularly beautiful tree,” Isabel said, “instead, steering me in a wide path around it, but they wouldn’t tell me why.”

Trajan nodded. “I instructed them to avoid revealing anything that you could use as a weapon. In this case, I believe they were taking that instruction a bit too seriously. That kind of tree is favored by yellow-spotted frogs.”

“You’ve lost me,” Isabel said. “What’s dangerous about frogs?”

“These frogs in particular secrete a potent toxin on their backs and bellies,” Trajan said. “One touch and you would die within minutes unless the antidote was administered quickly.”