Page 74 of The Stolen Throne
Hopefully.
Any signs of Eidolon’s army, which had been previously camped here when Reven, Vos, and I had to fight our way out, are mostly gone, though I can still make out a few stakes sticking haphazardly out of the ground and remnants of tents under the snow. Not to mention the boats I sank using glass spikes I made. Parts stick out of the water in the channel between Little Tyndra and the mainland. I’m not surprised that a lot is buried. The snow here is like the sand in my home. Give it a week, and it will wipe the evidence of life from its face.
Tziah gestures away from the temple.
“She’s right,” Vos says. “The faster we move, the sooner we can be in the warmer woods. Unless anyone wants to wait inside the warmer temple?”
“No thanks,” Cain mumbles.
I’m already dreading the fact that we have to come back through it to leave here. A problem for another day.
Reven has been conserving his power for the next part of our travel—shadowing us to the woods so we don’t have to spend days trekking over the snow and ice to get there, although we brought gear for that just in case.
Because of the distance, we decided he’d shadow us to within a league of the southern border of the woods. We could have had him take us all the way to the abandoned village inside the Shadowood, which would be faster, but we have no idea what to expect there. It could be a trap—more of Eidolon’s soldiers waiting for anyone to show their faces.
The last thing we need is for Reven to be drained if we face a fight.
The part of me that still hopes he’ll change the way he’s keeping us apart expects Reven to turn to me first, but he doesn’t. He holds out a hand to Vos.
I wince, then immediately frown at myself. Where’s your pride, Meren?
Vos carefully checks Reven’s face, probably for any sign of Eidolon’s Shadows. I see Reven notice that small hesitation. He takes it like a blow but says nothing. A new ache blooms inside me. For him. Can’t he see he’s only hurting himself by trying to deal with his problems alone?
Except, what could we possibly do to help him? My own frustrated helplessness is reflected on more than one face around me.
Vos clasps him heartily, hand to forearm. “Let’s go, brother.”
The shadows rise and fall too fast for me to say anything, do anything. In a blink, he and Vos disappear. Another blink, and Reven’s back.
I’m next. He touches me for only as long as it takes to get me to where he left Vos, and then he’s gone again. I stare at my gloved hand for a second, the one he’d held, before he reappears with Horus, and I hastily drop it to my side. I watch Reven’s face every time he shows up with more of our group. He brings Cain and Pella last, but fortunately, even by then there’s no flicker, no show that he’s exhausted himself or struggling.
That’s a good sign. I hope.
We make the rest of our way on foot. The trees loom larger and larger on the horizon as we cross the frozen tundra toward the forest of towering red-barked, flat-leaved trees. The edges of the forest are filled with smaller piney trees. As soon as we reach them, my muscles ease, my breath of relief a misty puff on the air. We still have a way to go, but at least here we’re more protected from the weather.
Even so, we all get quieter as we make our way closer and closer to the village.
“Why such solemnity?” Bene asks in my head.
“You’ll see,” I whisper.
We trek on for what feels like an eternity. I picture the Shadowood the way I first saw it—the massive, towering trees filled with treehouse homes high up in those ancient branches, winding stairs around the thick trunks, other buildings on the ground where the villagers did their work and trade. A fully functioning community.
Except that’s not how we left it.
Dread clings to my feet, trying to slow me down. What we’re about to see isn’t going to be easy.
Reven—or more accurately one of the Shadows, though I didn’t know at the time—and I were the last ones out. I know what we left behind. I witnessed the bodies of our dead from that battle. They littered the ground like used handkerchiefs, their cloudy eyes open and accusing. We didn’t have time to bury them.
Should I prepare the others? I’m not sure if knowing what to expect will make it worse or better. Other than Pella and Bene, they were all there during the attack. They saw. They know, to some extent.
I stay silent.
At the first decent view of the village, Tziah stumbles to a halt, her twilight skin turning chalky. Shock opens her mouth, and a sound like hissing and screaming at the same time emerges as a chirp before she snaps her teeth closed, cutting it off.
The village is a shambles.
A tangle of different emotions roils through me along with the foreboding—regret, guilt, hatred for the soldiers who came for us and the man who sent them, sadness for the people we lost, but also for the safe haven that was destroyed.
