Page 92 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Oryn,” Larg said. “These are Oryn Duncan’s letters.”

The priestess nodded. “The priest banished to the Danics.”

“How would this help us in any form?” Mal asked.

“Not them,” the priestess explained. “Him. Oryn Duncan. He is still in the Danics.” She brought a compass out of her pocket, old and rusting. “I…I might have borrowed this from the head priest in Sidra. He…he wouldn’t allow me to have it.” She winced and flipped the cap open to show us. “When Oryn was banished to the Danics, a Crafter spelled him—to keep watch in case he ever trespassed. Apparently, he possessed fearsome magic. He is a prime Empath after all.”

We all leaned forward, noticing the arrow pull and twitch west. “I am certain he is alive and can help us,” she said confidently.

Snow picked the compass and stood to spin about the room with it. A smile cracked her features and she beamed at the priestess. “Well done.”

The young girl bowed. “Thank you, my queen.”

Snow sat and then turned to me. “How do we go to him?”

I took the compass, studying it. The Danics. No one went near them let alone enter them. Perhaps once they might have dared to, but Adriatians had not stepped there in centuries. The mountains had been rich with gold and diamonds of all sorts, but the heights had not only been dangerous to climb but a challenge to survive through. Man had killed man for jewels and gold, the earth had turned rotten and a ground that attracted young and old in search for riches only to end up consumed by greed. The bodies soiling the mountain's path had left our goddess heartbroken and her grief had dressed the mountain range with her blanket of night terrors. No one had been able to step more than three feet inside it before running back out. And now, it was the perfect location to sentence someone to solitude or death.

“My love, the Danics are impenetrable. There are several places in Adriata that our goddess sealed for our protection. People were losing their lives mining gold in that region, so Henah sealed the area with her magic. God magic. It is not the same as craft and ten times as dangerous.”

She frowned. “Find us a way, Henrik.”

I cocked my head to the side. Right now, I wanted to bend her over my lap and smack her backside red and raw. “See what you can find,” I said to Atlas.

After dismissing the rest of the meeting, it was only Mal, Snow and I in the room.

I poured a finger of the whiskey Larg had gifted me. Hopefully it would disguise a bit of the discomfort from the wounds across my chest. “Have you considered what Moriko proposed?”

Snow leaned back on her chair with a sigh. “Yes.”

“And?”

“We should arrange a meeting with the Vayrs. If this Oryn does not have anything for us, then that leaves us with absolutely nothing.” She pushed up and glanced out of the window and over the yellowing sunset painted over the Moor Sea. “Any news on my siblings?”

“I spoke to your witch again,” my brother said. “She gave me a trace craft based on some memory she had extracted from Alaric. I’m heading to the North of Hanai tomorrow.”

“That is good.”

Mal shook his head. “Not entirely helpful. If the essence came from you, it would be better. The emotion you carry, it would—” My brother interrupted himself and took a deep breath. “If you let Visha enter your head, we find out whether they are alive or if we are just chasing a goose hunt.”

Snow steeled a look on my brother. “No, I know what happens if she goes in my head. Her presence will banish my mother away.”

“I’ll enter instead of her,” I volunteered. “She can cast the craft from outside and I’ll be the one to ground you to our realm and pull you out from the Midworld.”

“What makes you think your presence won’t do the same?”

“Because my magic has an affinity with death, it scourges the soul. Death is attracted to me, not away from me.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and her gloved fingers were clenching and unclenching in fists. “I will have to think about it.”

“Of course,” Mal said, standing. “With your permission.”

“Will you go and get yourself black out drunk again?” Snow asked, leaning back on the wall and giving my brother a berating look.

Mal grinned at her. “Perhaps. Want to join me?”

“I would,” she said with a sigh, looking out of the window and lifting her hand to show our bargain seal. “But I’m your brother’s prisoner for the night.”

“A shame,” Mal said.