Page 143 of Poisonwell (Whispers from Mirrowen 3)
“How could this have happened?” he said in pretend amazement.
“I must go to Mirrowen,” Shion murmured in desolation. “I must seek help from her father.”
“No,” Shirikant said, shaking his head. “He’ll be furious. He’ll likely curse you. Brother, I’ve been hesitant to say this, but I don’t trust him.” He rubbed his bleary eyes. “If he truly knew the future, why did he allow this to happen? What father would willingly send his child to die? He must not have known. He’s not this wise and all-powerful, benevolent being. He appears the way we want him to be. We’ve formed him in our minds. Isic—you must not go! If he does not punish you for killing his daughter, he may punish the world! Think of the power in his hands. What he might do to us!”
“Stop!” Isic snarled, shaking his head violently. “You speak nonsense, Brother. I knew the Seneschal before I stepped one foot in Mirrowen. This is the only way I can save her. I must cross the bridge again and bring her spirit back. It is said by the spirits that someone can revive in three days. A horse. I must ride now. I cannot waste a moment.” He hefted the body in his arms and handed it to his brother. “I leave her to you. Bring the body to Canton Vaud quickly. I’ll ride ahead.”
The two brothers stared at each other, their emotions conflicted. Shirikant cradled the girl’s body in his arms. “Very well, Brother. I’ll await you there.”
Isic rushed from the hedge maze, sprinting like a madman.
Shirikant sank to the ground, staring at the dead girl in his arms. He stroked a tuft of hair from her forehead, grimacing in pain. He stared for a long while, tears gathering in his eyes. Then dipping his head, he kissed her dead lips.
Phae quivered with revulsion.
“The greatest injury is betrayal.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XLIII
They were back in Mirrowen, back to the tree—the origin of the suffering she had witnessed through her visits in time. Her heart panged with sorrow for Prince Isic, unable to see his brother’s treachery, unable to discern the twisting of his soul into savagery. So many pieces were coming together, so many cruelties that wrung compassion from her heart and made her long to return to the Dryad tree she was bound to, in order to share what she had learned with him.
She paced the area around the tree, trying to subdue the battering emotions, to quell the burgeoning feelings of loathing and hate.
The tree was the origin of it all. She stared at the silvery bark, the tempting fruit that seemed to whisper to her to snatch another one.
“You feel its compulsion,” the Seneschal announced softly. “For all ages and in every civilization scattered amidst the myriad worlds—of which this one is but a type—there is a relentless hunger for immortality. They all search for this tree.” He put his hand on her shoulder, a tender gesture. “What they never understand is that there is bitterness amidst the sweetness. There is suffering betwixt the joy. I was given the Voided Keys as a steward, to protect this tree from those like Shirikant who rule with terror and destruction because of their benighted pride. Unwearying Ones from other worlds will visit this one and learn for themselves the fruits of consequence caused by men like Shirikant and the despair that follows. Some worlds are wiser than this one. And there are some that are even worse.”
She turned and looked up at him, seeing the look of wisdom in his deep-set eyes. “Are you from this world, then?”
He shook his head. “No, child. I am a custodian. My intention has been to deliver the Voided Keys to someone who will take my place. I will pass to another realm eventually. And so will you.”
“You desired that Prince Isic would take your place. Has he forfeited that chance?”
A small smile lit his face. Thunder rumbled overhead, followed by thick, billowing clouds. As Phae stared up into the sky, she saw an enormous gathering storm, with huge anvil-shaped clouds that loomed higher than the heavens. Lightning flashed and struck. A bulge appeared in the clouds, and she watched with fascination as the bulge began to swirl.
“He comes,” the Seneschal said, motioning toward an archway.
Shion appeared through the gap, as if he had stepped from another existence into this one. He staggered with heaviness, his countenance matching the storm clouds. He had the look of restless determination in his eyes, the focus that had always made her shudder.
“His brother attempted to stop him,” the Seneschal whispered to Phae. “Shirikant sent hawks and doves ahead, warning his servants to forestall him. The safe road was guarded, but the Prince would not be halted. He is a powerful Druidecht and summoned creatures from the woods for assistance. Shirikant’s minions tried to subdue him but failed. Now Isic comes again, burning with determination yet clinging to the seed of failure—the doubt his brother planted in his mind. Watch it fester. Watch him fail.”
