“You did that?” Jondan’s voice was a mix of disbelief and admiration.

  “I guess so, I really don’t remember. I was so worried I’d killed Olivera, I didn’t really take the time to think about how it happened.”

  Their conversation was occasionally punctuated by quiet moans from Baxley. I briefly looked over my shoulder and caught Farrah’s eye. She brought her horse forward, riding alongside me.

  “What’s on your mind, Kaernan?” she asked me.

  “I’m worried about Baxley,” I admitted. “He’s doing his best to hold himself together. But he looks worse the farther we go, and I’m wondering ... what if there’s a breaking point for his tether? What will happen?”

  “I don’t really know,” Farrah said. “I may know magic, but this spell is beyond my knowledge or ability. Maybe my friend, Princess Jennica of Calia, would know what to do ... but she’s not here.”

  “Can’t you reach her using your magic?” Rhyss asked. “Beyan said there was some sort of communication spell Jennica used to use with her lady-in-waiting all the time.”

  She shook her head. “We tried it once, but there were some issues with the connection. It seems Fae magic, even from someone who’s only half-Fae, is incompatible with the type of magic Jennica does.”

  Farrah surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder, trying to assess Baxley’s condition. Turning back to me, she said, “When we make camp, I’ll take a look at him. Healing is my specialty; I might be able to remove the pain, or at least dull it. But anything I can do for him right now will be temporary. We’ll have to find a way to permanently break the spell if he’s to have any sort of life away from the Hausters.”

  “My father has an extensive library, back at Asthore Manor,” I said. “I know it includes a fairly good collection of Seeker history and lore. Perhaps you can find something that might help Baxley’s condition there?”

  “I hope so, but in the meantime, I’ll do all I can. I promise.”

  I nodded as another low groan escaped my uncle’s lips behind us. “Thank you, Farrah. It’s all we can ask for.”

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, the events of the previous night — and the lack of a good night’s sleep — had caught up to us. We set up camp in a small clearing set back from the road. Rhyss, looking exhausted, grabbed his bow and slunk off into the woods. Jondan helped Delphine set up camp while Adallia and I helped my uncle settle against a tree trunk, with Farrah following close behind.

  Baxley’s breathing was now coming in shallow gasps, and he could barely stand, let alone walk. Closing his eyes as he leaned against the tree, his skin seemed translucent with all the color drained from his face. Every so often a shuddering cough would interrupt his tortured breathing, and my heart ached at seeing how, in less than a day, the strong, confident man who was my newfound uncle had deteriorated so rapidly.

  Farrah looked at Baxley, then back at me, distraught. She stood, motioning for me to join her a few feet away from my uncle. Adallia continued to fuss over Baxley.

  In a low voice, Farrah said, “I’ll have to work quickly, but I fear it might not be fast enough. If I can’t help him ... I don’t think he can make it another day.”

  I nodded. “I agree, he seems to be getting worse by the minute. Whatever you need, you let me know.”

  Farrah pursed her lips and headed back to her patient. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she concentrated briefly, then recoiled violently. “It’s like there’s a chain or a rope laced with poison holding him fast. I think I can remove the poison, and perhaps ease the pressure of the chain, but it will still be wrapped around him, and it will eventually leach its poison into his body again.”

  “Even a temporary solution is better than nothing. I have every faith in you, Farrah.”

  “Well, that’s one of us then.”

  “Speaking of this magical chain ...”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Could the rest of the Family follow it, and find Baxley?”

  “I don’t ... think so,” a weak Baxley said. Embarrassed, I looked over at him, realizing I must have spoken louder than I intended. He was struggling to sit up, while Adallia made noises of protest at him, trying ineffectively to keep him calm.

  “No one ... in the Family ... can use magic ... besides me. They may ... track me down ... by ... traditional means ... though.” He slumped back against the tree, those brief words taking way too much out of him.

  “So we still don’t have much of a head start,” I mused, turning back to Farrah. She was looking around the campsite, searching for something, which was mostly completed by this point.

  “What? What is it you need? I’ll go get it,” I told her.

  Farrah pursed her lips. “What I need ... it’s a bit complex. Normally, if I was going to draw poison from someone, I would just absorb it into my own body. There’s usually not so much poison that my healing magic can’t neutralize the poison right away. But with Baxley ... there’s too much, and it’s too ... thick. It would overwhelm me, and could potentially kill me. I need ...”

  Adallia came to us, hands open. “Would it help to share the burden? I’ll gladly take on some of the poison if it will help Baxley.”

  Farrah shook her head. “No. I can draw on my ability to heal almost by instinct, which is why my body would be able to handle a small amount of poison. But as none of the rest of you have that ability ...”

  “You could end up having to heal multiple people, instead of just one,” I finished her thought.

  She nodded absentmindedly as she looked around again. “I need a vessel of some sort, something that could contain it. Or something that I could transfer it into.”

  She studied the majestic tree that my uncle was propped up against. Placing her hand on the trunk, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. What on earth was she doing? She was wasting time, precious moments that my uncle didn’t have. I was about to speak up when Farrah opened her eyes and raised her head. She pushed an errant strand of hair back where it had fallen into her face. “It said yes.”

  “What?”

  “The tree. I asked if it would be willing to help this man, and it said yes.”

  She talks to trees? But then I remembered Farrah telling me she had grown up with some Faerie traditions, as she was half-Fae herself. Suddenly the talking to trees thing — as well as her healing magic — made sense.

  “Uh, thank you, then. Tree.” I felt foolish saying the words aloud, but Farrah looked pleased.

  “All right, let’s get started. We don’t have any more time to lose,” she said. Suiting her actions to her words, she placed one palm on the tree, and the other on Baxley’s shoulder.

  “What can we do?” I asked, pointing to Adallia and myself.

  “For now, just be there next to him. Hold his hand and be a source of comfort. As I pull the poison from his body, it will hurt. I need to maintain contact with both him and the tree the entire time, and if contact is broken with either before I am done, then the magic could backfire. Or worse. So if he starts to thrash about, hold him down and keep him as still as you can.”

  “All right, then, let’s get started.” I echoed Farrah’s earlier statement.

  I gripped my uncle’s weak hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the top of his hand and murmuring encouragement to him as Farrah closed her eyes and began concentrating on her healing spell. On my uncle’s other side, Adallia did the same.

  At first, Baxley couldn’t even grip my hand back, his fingers limp in my grasp. As Farrah continued weaving her spell, Baxley started to get a little bit of strength back. His fingers closed around my hand; his eyes opened and, for the first time since we had left the Hauster fortress, they held a spark of life in them.

  And then his grasp on my hand grew tighter. His eyes squeezed shut in pain, and I saw the tension crease his face as the viscous poison tried to hold onto his body.

  “Uncle, you’re all right. Just listen to my voice. You’re fine, you’ll be fine, don’t focus on the pain, just focus on me and Adallia.” I spoke rapidly, trying to distract him. Across the way, Adallia’s eyes met mine, her fear for her love plainly written on her face.

  Baxley’s body went rigid, then limp. He began shaking, at first a slight vibration which quickly evolved into a full-blown thrashing. Clamping our hands on his arms, Adallia and I threw all our weight into pushing him down, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep him still.

  Farrah’s voice faltered slightly as she reacted to Baxley’s thrashing, but she determinedly continued on with her spell.

  Should I sit on his legs? Throw my entire body over his? I didn’t want to do anything that would throw Farrah’s concentration off, and my uncle still seemed way too frail to support my extra weight without hurting him. But if I couldn’t get him under control, and soon ...

  On the other side of the campsite, Rhyss loped out of the woods, holding a brace of rabbits.

  “Rhyss!” If he couldn’t catch the wildness in my eyes, I’m sure he heard my frantic desperation.

  Rhyss immediately started running toward us, barely breaking his stride as he tossed the rabbits toward Jondan and Delphine, who had just returned from gathering firewood. He shed his bow as well, unslinging it from his back and tossing it aside as he reached Farrah, Baxley, and me. He dropped to his feet and threw his hands down on Baxley’s legs, helping me still the afflicted man.

  And not a moment too soon. Farrah’s voice, up until now just a low, steady murmur, grew louder and faster as she completed her spell, doing one last draw of the poison from Baxley’s body. He cried out, shaking so furiously I thought his body would break apart at any moment. Rhyss and I both doubled down, holding Baxley down with every ounce of strength we both possessed.

  After one final violent spasm, Baxley’s body went limp. At the same moment, Farrah completed her spell, and the tree at Baxley’s back turned black and wilted, crumpling in on itself with frightening speed. It no longer bore its vibrant, healthy tones of bright green and brown. Instead, it was now cracked and withered, looking as if it had been dead for several years.

  Baxley drew in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, his expression more lucid than it had been for the last day. He opened his mouth to say something, then started coughing.

  “Oh! Here,” said Rhyss, hastily handing Baxley a waterskin hanging from his belt.

  Baxley took a long drink from the waterskin. “Thank you.” He looked around at all of us, his gaze finally landing on Farrah. He twisted slightly to look at the decayed tree. “Thank you, all of you, for everything.”

  “How are you feeling?” Farrah asked him. Her voice sounded rough, even though her spell casting had been barely above a whisper, and her face was slick with sweat.

  “Much, much better. I can still sense the tether around me, but it’s not as restrictive as it usually is.”

  “That won’t last, I’m afraid,” she said. “The tether will eventually snake its way back around you, grabbing on tight and leaching its poison into you again. If we can’t remove this magical tether for good, then we will have to repeat this process over and over.” She leaned against the blackened trunk of the now-dead tree, trying to catch her breath. “But this took a lot of out of me, more than I expected. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to keep repeating this spell.

  “There’s one more thing I need to do, and perhaps that will slow the poison and buy us more time to figure out a permanent solution.”

  She grabbed Baxley’s hand, closing her eyes as she focused on another spell. After a few moments, she released his hand and opened her eyes, looking pleased with herself. “The poison is all gone — for now. I’ve created a shield between you and the tether. The shield should hold for a few days, I hope until we reach Orchwell, before the poison from the tether eats away at it and destroys it completely.” Her smile faltered. “I wish I could just remove the tether completely, but it’s beyond my ability.”

  Baxley patted her hand. “You’ve done more than enough for me this day.”

  Rhyss helped a shaky Farrah get to her feet, while Adallia and I assisted my uncle over to the campfire. Delphine and Jondan had built a fire and were busily skinning the rabbits Rhyss had brought back. I helped Delphine and Jondan with dinner while Rhyss fussed over Farrah and Adallia fussed over Baxley. When it was time to eat, Adallia sat next to Baxley during the meal, engaging him in a low-voiced but innocuous conversation.

  The sun had started dipping below the horizon by the time we finished eating and cleaning up our camp, and by then we were all ready for a good night’s rest. Jondan offered to take first watch, with Rhyss to relieve him, and we had barely settled into our bedrolls when, exhausted, I drifted off into sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I DREAMED SOMEONE WAS watching me.

  Someone lithe, and strong. Man? Woman? I wasn’t sure. They were just beyond my sight, hidden in the shadows. But I could see their eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  My unease at this unknown presence grew, the ominous feeling growing until I could no longer contain myself.

  “Show yourself!” I started to say.

  I came awake instantly, the words I had spoken in my dreams thick on my tongue.

  The glint that I had dreamed were watching eyes was actually the glint of sharp metal. Against my neck.

  “What’s going on? Who are you?” I demanded.

  The person holding the dagger eased off a bit, enough to let me talk, but not far enough that the weapon couldn’t be plunged into my neck at a moment’s notice.

  “As you seem to be the group leader, I would like to make a bargain with you.”

  I recognized the voice as the young woman from the Hauster stronghold’s great hall. Baxley’s niece by marriage. What was her name again? Shelda.

  “I can’t bargain with anyone if I’m lying flat on my back, unable to see who I’m talking to,” I said.

  “You may sit up,” Shelda said. “But don’t try anything funny, or my dagger may find its way into your neck. And that would be most unfortunate, don’t you think?”

  I sat up slowly, using the time to survey the camp and ascertain if the others were all right. I dragged my hands against the ground, wiggling in my bedroll and scattering nearby pebbles in an effort to make enough noise to wake up the others. From what I could see, everyone else seemed to be fine, but no one was waking. On the other end of the campsite, Rhyss, who was supposed to be keeping watch, was slumped over on a log.

  I made a mental note, through the haze clouding my brain, to make sure Rhyss never took a watch by himself again.

  I nudged Farrah, who was sleeping the closest to me. She groaned lightly, but didn’t open her eyes.

  “What did you do to the others?” I asked Shelda.

  “Sleeping powder,” Shelda said. “They won’t wake for quite some time, or unless I give them the antidote to counteract it.”

  I cursed mentally. We had been so exhausted, and Farrah so drained from healing Baxley, that we had forgotten to set up any wards. Not that it would have mattered, as Farrah had said the wards were really only effective against the use of magical attacks.

  “All right, then, you want to bargain,” I said. “For what? Why didn’t you just put some sleeping powder on me, too? Why wake me up? You could have just stolen Baxley away, and no one would have known until the morning.”

  Shelda sank down on my pack, which was lying next to my bedroll. Her dagger still out, she tossed it from hand to hand, the blade catching the moonlight as it went from side to side.

  “I’ve been shadowing your group for half a day,” she said. “We discovered all of you — Lord Olivera, the group of false servants, and the girl who Lord Olivera commissioned us to find — were missing in the morning, but it wasn’t until we realized my uncle was gone that I came after you. It wasn’t hard, really, you weren’t even a day’s hard ride away.”

  Something Shelda said stuck out at me. “Wait a minute. You said Lord Olivera left the fortress? He’s free? How?”

  “When Uncle Baxley left the hill, the magic weakened enough that all the prisoners could escape.” Shelda snorted. “That stupid man. He thinks he’s so quiet and clever, but you can’t outfox a true hunter. I’ve been shadowing him as I’ve been shadowing you.”

  “But he’s —”

  Shelda stopped tossing her dagger and pointed it straight at me. I swallowed the rest of what I was going to say. “If you don’t mind, may I continue?”

  I croaked out a yes.

  “Good.” Shelda lowered her dagger. “I’ve overheard some of your conversations, and I witnessed what your friend —” she motioned with her weapon at the sleeping Farrah “— did to help my uncle. It would be very easy to just take Uncle Baxley now and bring him back home, but I don’t think it’s what he wants. Truth be told, I’ve suspected for some time now that my uncle was unhappy.”

  It was a bit unsettling to hear this fierce bounty hunter refer to my newfound uncle as her uncle, even though it was accurate. It was even more unsettling to realize that I was actually related to this woman and her outlaw family by marriage.

  Her eyes flickered over to Baxley, who was sleeping peacefully a few feet away. Her face softened. “I love my uncle dearly. He ... When my papa died, Uncle Baxley helped raise me like I was his own daughter. I wish he hadn’t left, but I also want him to be happy. After all I’ve seen and heard today have confirmed my suspicions, I’m willing to let him go. And I know my mother and great-grandparents will support my decision.

  “But it also creates a problem, because ... we need him. Or rather, we need his Seeker ability. Our family has diminished over time; I was very young when Eldan passed away, but I remember it was a devastating blow to us. We needed his magic more than we’d like to admit. Uncle Baxley’s abilities were helping to restore our family to its original greatness. Even if we could let Uncle Baxley as a person go, we cannot afford to let Uncle Baxley the Seeker go.”

  Shelda started tossing her dagger back and forth again. As other people’s nervous habits went, it was incredibly intimidating to me. “Uh ... if you don’t mind, could you just put the dagger down? Besides, I don’t know if you realized, but technically ... we’re family. I know families don’t always get along, but sticking me with a dagger is a rather permanent way to end an argument.”

 

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