Thomas Reid - The Fractured Sky

Under Tekthyrios's wing, she answered. Then, biting her lip, she asked, What about Kaanyr?

There was another, longer pause. Micus's troops captured him. He's there, in the camp, very near you. I'm sorry.

Sorry? You didn't help them, did you?

No, Tauran answered. But I'm sorry they turned against you. I'm sorry it all fell apart like this. The angel sounded tired and defeated. Kael and I are considering offering a trade: me for Vhok.

No, Aliisza replied. They won't agree, and you know it. They are sworn to uphold your many and sometimes ridiculous laws.

I know, Tauran replied. His voice was without hope. But we have no other choice. There are too many of them. We can't free him by force, and I will honor my word to him to let him go back to Sundabar.

Aliisza thought for a moment, then inspiration struck. I have a better idea, she said.

"How do you know they aren't hostile?" Myshik asked. Kashada saw the half-dragon reach for his war axe out of the corner of her eye. "They don't look like they're very happy to see us."

The figures approaching them did seem wary. As they drew closer, Kashada saw that they resembled elves in appearance, though they had eschewed clothing and their deep brown skin mimicked the bark of a tree.

Dryads, the Sharran thought with a mixture of distaste and surprise. A whole colony of them. Annoying little fey.

On her other side, Zasian chuckled. "You leave that to me, young Morueme. In a moment, they will be falling all over themselves to please us." The priest pulled a pendant from his shirt and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, chanting softly.

When Kashada saw that it was the silver skull of Cyric, she grimaced. Though she was grateful to Zasian for his timely rescue of her at the hands of the ghaele, it only made her further resent the necessity of associating with one of his ilk. He is merely a tool, she reminded herself. As Cyric is Shar's.

Use him to achieve the ends you desire. Such thoughts were of little comfort when she felt so dependent upon him for seeing the plot through.

Zasian completed whatever divine invocation he had engaged in and paused expectantly. The half-dozen dryads, who had slowed and stopped once they were within a few paces of the trio, broke into shy grins and closed the remainder of the gap, arms outstretched. They fawned all over the strangers in their midst, gently pawing at buckles, jewelry, and other shiny bits of outfit. They chattered and giggled like young girls, but Kashada could understand none of it.

Zasian began another spell, murmuring softly as he caressed his pendant. When he finished that one, he let the thing slip back inside the folds of his shirt. He began speaking words that Kashada did not understand, but whatever the priest was saying, it made the dryads beam all the more. One of them replied, and Zasian nodded.

"They are more than happy to lead us where we need to go," he explained to his companions. "But they would welcome us to their village as guests first. They have invited us to rest and partake of whatever meager fare they can provide."

As if it somehow understood, Myshik's stomach let out a pronounced rumble.

Zasian and the dryads chuckled. "I think they're taking that as a yes," the priest said.

"Is that truly necessary?" Kashada grumbled. She did not relish the idea of spending any more time than needed among the pesky creatures. She was already fighting the urge to fling their infuriating little hands away from herself. "We will lose precious time."

Zasian turned toward her. "It is, in fact," he said, "for reasons you will come to understand soon enough."

Kashada sighed, thankful that her veil hid the frown she knew she wore. His smugness and condescension were wearing thin. "I suppose a bit of rest would do me good," she said, hoping she sounded agreeable. "My body's just not used to all this activity after so long confined within my prison." She batted her eyes at the priest, hoping he got her little dig.

Zasian's level stare told her he had, but otherwise, he did not react. "Very well, then," he said, turning to the dryads. He said something with a warm smile, and the dryads eagerly led the three of them into the village.

The entire population of the little woodland community could not have numbered more than two dozen or so, but they were more than enough to make the tiny hut feel crammed beyond reason after a couple more of Zasian's charming spells brought them all merrily under his sway. The dryads prepared a simple meal for their guests that consisted of some type of greenish paste served on sections of thick leaves and garnished with giant ant abdomens.

Kashada watched as Myshik looked at his for a few moments, then shrugged and grabbed up an ant abdomen. He split the carapace with his teeth, sucked out the soft flesh within, then used half of it as a scoop to shovel mouthfuls of the green stuff as fast as he could past his lips and tongue. He hardly seemed to taste the fare at all.

Kashada tried not to make a face as she turned to Zasian. "The fact that he seems to think it delicious gives me pause," she said. "What exactly is this?"

The priest looked thoughtful as he finished a bite, then he said, "I think it's some sort of fermented moss." Kashada nodded and had a bite halfway to her mouth when he added, "But it also might be caterpillar flesh."

Kashada did make a face, then, and she set the food back down uneaten. "I am no longer hungry," she said as gently as she could. "Perhaps one of you two would like to finish mine? I think I'd like to rest for a bit, now."

Myshik had his face pressed against his leaf, licking the last dregs of the paste from it. "I'll take yours," he said. He leaned over and snatched the leaf from her lap and began devouring it.

Zasian laughed. "Suit yourself," he said. "There will be plenty to eat that's more to your liking when we get where we are going next."

Kashada rose to her feet and glared down at the priest. "Just let me know when it's time to go," she said, hoping her sour tone conveyed her overall displeasure. "The sooner, the better."

At a word from Zasian, two of the dryads took Kashada by the hands. The mystic allowed them to lead her out of the overcrowded hut. She was forced to tread carefully so as to avoid stepping on anyone's feet. She followed her escort along a curving, swaying rope bridge to another shelter.

Not rope, Kashada realized as she ran her hand along one of the flexible rails of the bridge. What is this? Woven silk? Webbing? How odd!

The dryads showed her into the hut, where a soft mat made of more of the thick, soft leafy material lay in the middle of it. They gestured and said several things, but Kashada just tried to smile and nod, then shooed them out of her way.

She lay down on the mat, and weariness washed over her at once. She had not realized how exhausted she was until that moment. She knew she would not be able to sleep so long as the constant, silvery glow of the environment intruded on her. The chattering dryad dinner party a stone's throw away only made it worse.

Kashada gestured and muttered a phrase of arcane power. The illusory shadows surrounding her grew and thickened. She gestured again, and the shadows wrapped themselves around her like a cocoon. Once safely inside their embrace, Kashada smiled and drifted off.

Kashada did not know how long she had slept when she came awake to gentle shaking. Disorientation made her start, but she gathered her wits quickly and unfurled her shadows to see who was disturbing her rest.

Zasian loomed over her. "It's time," he said softly. "There is work to do."

Kashada sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Very well," she said. "Give me a moment to collect myself."

Zasian rocked back and stood up. "Take a few moments," he said. "Myshik and I are journeying on ahead, but I want you to remain behind for a bit longer."