Bloodwalk - James P. Davis [78]
Talmen bowed. Morgynn was amused by the change in the priest's thoughts and actions now that she was in his presence.
"Thank-you, Lady Morgynn, but our servants are summoned merely to complement your own. The bathor numbers far outweigh my Order's meager contribution."
"Very good," she replied. "Go. Take your place and gather them. Our path will be prepared shortly."
"Yes, my Lady."
Talmen walked swiftly toward the forest's edge. He showed no emotions, but she felt him tremble beneath his mask as he stared into the trees and gripped the scar seared on his arm. Khaemil's words still echoed in his mind, and Talmen endeavored to bolster his feelings to match his show of courage. She left his mind then, confident that his fear of her was greater than his fear of death.
"I wager he will soil himself if the oracles have a guard posted at the gate, my lady," the shadurakul said over the droning work of the wizard-priests around the tower.
The humor in Khaemil's jest was not lost on her, but her mind was elsewhere as she scanned the damp ground.
"No doubt. But as long as he makes it that far, his fear is irrelevant."
Finding what she sought, Morgynn knelt on the ground, tracing long fingers around a puddle of water. She mumbled words of magic and waved one hand erratically over the water's surface while the other reached for a pouch at her side. A sliver of wood appeared in her hand from the pouch-a splinter from the ancient scrying bowl in Goorgian's Well. It would be a catalyst for her spell to allow her simple scrying to become more intrusive than her targets might enjoy. Completing the words of the spell, she finished the incantation by biting her lip and drawing blood. This she spat in the center of the puddle and it flashed with light, dimming to show a scene of swirling mist and impenetrable gray.
"Sisters," she whispered, focusing on the materializing image of the pale grove of oaks hidden in the forest.
Their leafy voices emanated from the water, sounding hollow and far away. Though their words were unintelligible, their tone of defiance was unmistakable.
From her pouch, Morgynn produced the Stone of Memnon and held the glossy black stone above the puddle, dipping it to brush the surface. Tiny ripples tore through the sylvan scene. Its effect on the trees was immediate, causing the branches to twist and writhe as they'd done before when confronted with the artifact.
"What do you want, blood-witch?"
She ignored their insult, admiring their tenacity and empathizing with their anger.
"A path. You three together have much control of the forest. I desire that you part the undergrowth and allow my followers to pass. East, if you please."
They did not respond, but the sounds of a disturbance in the forest served as their answer. Morgynn watched eagerly. To her left, trees parted, roots shifted, and entangling vines and bushes pulled back, revealing a wide road of soft soil.
The leaves in the image of the grove shook and hissed as the sisters spoke.
"Our influence reaches far, but not to the other side. You must forge your own road beyond ours."
"We shall make do," Morgynn replied, and dismissed the image in the puddle.
Rising, she brushed mud from her red robes and discovered Talmen standing at the edge of the road, staring into the shadowy avenue that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. She touched a fingernail to her arm in a place corresponding with the dark glyph on his.
Morgynn revealed the true extent of the link she had forged into his skin and spoke, her words resoundingly loud in his mind. "Follow the path as far as it goes. The bathor will clear the rest."
He nodded, clearly unnerved by the sudden command, then shouted to those waiting behind him.
Morgynn smiled as they marched into the Qurth. She felt the weakening pulse of her children as they moved away from her, leading her army to the gates of Brookhollow