Tyrus put his hand on her leg. “The Dryad warned that Mirrowen is destroyed and that venturing there will be lethal. I doubt this is true. It sounds like just the sort of deception Shirikant is famous for. But I had to speak it regardless. She also mentioned a being called the Seneschal. It means some sort of steward. A protector, maybe. Have you heard of this before, Phae?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I don’t think I’m supposed to speak of it though. I was told I must seek him in order to make my oath and be bound to the tree. I learned that the Dryads here are fallen. They have forsaken their oaths.”

“I believe that is so,” Tyrus said. “Even a Dryad can steal another Dryad’s memories. Something happened at the Mother Tree. Some betrayal. I’m certain Shirikant is involved and that he has usurped the memories of the trees. Annon said that the Dryad he just met wore a ring like the Kishion have. They are forced to obey him. When you reach the tree, Phae, you must be very careful. The Dryad will probably try to kill you.”

Phae’s heart shriveled. “Even though I have come to free her?”

“Even so. The Arch-Rike would lose his grip on the Scourgelands if he lost control of her. Shion—you must protect Phae when she approaches the tree. He may even try to destroy the tree. I’m not certain what he will attempt, but we must expect every trick and cunning. If we do not succeed in finding it before the sun sets again, I fear we will be too late. All of our efforts, all of our thoughts must be focused on succeeding. Courage, my friends. We are so very close.”

He reached out and took Phae’s hand, squeezing it firmly.

A catlike shriek sounded from the lip of the gully and a Weir hurtled down at her.

Shion sprang like a crossbow and vaulted over her, slamming into the beast and knocking it aside. The Weir hissed and howled, raking Shion with its hooked claws, but Shion drew his twin daggers and slammed them into the beast’s throat to end the savage cry.

“More!” Hettie warned, rising into a low crouch and readying her bow.

Phae’s heart was hammering with fear from the sudden, savage attack. Tyrus grabbed her by the arm and motioned for Hettie to lead the way down the gully throat. Another Weir loped into view along the ridge.

Hettie sent one arrow into its hind and had another out as it dropped.

“They have the high ground,” Aran warned. “We must scale the side . . . watch out!”

Suddenly the Weir were leaping into the stunted ravine, snarling and gashing. Phae watched the fireblood bloom from Annon’s hands as he sent it racing along the edge of the brush. She thought the words to tame fire herself, and her fingers began to burn blue. One of the cats swiped at her middle, but she lunged to the side and burned the creature to ash. Shion caught up with her again, pulling her to the other side of the gully. He scrambled up first and then reached down and seized her wrist, pulling her up after him. The companions fought in the gully below and Phae could see the glowing eyes of the Weir as they advanced in the dark woods.

Shion tightened his grip on the daggers and planted himself in front of her, his neck muscles bulging. Prince Aran joined them and also positioned himself in front of her. Phae gritted her teeth, feeling nauseous with the sudden onset of pain in her belly. She winced and groaned, her knees beginning to weaken, but she kept herself upright.

The Weir snarled and charged, loping through the woods. Shion sprung into their midst, slashing viciously with his blades. Aran hammered at the Weir with his bare fists and palms, striking at their eyes, the soft flesh around the throats. Though he did not carry a blade, he struck with a force that injured them, and he could not be budged from his stance. She heard the shred of fabric and felt blood from Aran’s sleeve spray her face, but although he was wounded, he did not back down.

Tyrus joined them next, his arms spread wide as he unleashed the fury of his fireblood on the attackers. Flames began to spread through the dried leaves, causing plumes of smoke and snapping twigs as they caught fire.

“Come!” Tyrus shouted. “Before they surround us.”

Annon and Hettie were the last to leave the gully and together they smashed into the ranks of the Weir, leaving a fog of smoke in their wake.

Dawn crept over the tangled woods of the Scourgelands. Phae walked with leaden steps, one hand fastened to Shion’s tattered cloak. She was sleeping while she walked, she felt, and the ground passed in a dreamlike state. Her other hand clutched her stomach. The pain was persistent now, coming in faster and faster bursts. All night it had tormented her, receding for a short while before returning with a vengeance. She was too sick to eat, but Tyrus made her choke down some dried strips of meat. Their water skins were drying up and the small sips did little to slake her thirst.