Bloodwalk - James P. Davis [94]
The prophecy will prove true, she thought, like nothing we could have imagined.
Raising a hand, she whispered the words to a minor spell. The locks and seals on the door released at her command. She exhaled a deep breath and reached for the handle.
"Nothing is as it seems," she whispered to herself fearfully, and entered the sanctuary.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Water reached the forest floor in a steady drip from the canopy of branches above. Dead leaves, early harbingers of winter, pooled the rain in brown cups, the overflow soaking the dark soil beneath. A mist flowed like a smoky river between the trees, climbing their trunks and then breaking like waves to curl back down into the current.
Bedlam's voice sang like the raging storm, flashing through the whipping tendrils of bloodthorns that sought Quin's legs. The ground was soaked in the sticky black ichor of the thirsty plants, their vines writhing and curling in on themselves at his feet. Pale snakes with multifaceted eyes slithered away as the sheltering bloodthorns were cut down. Insects with reptilian tails and eyes buried themselves beneath the leaves.
Panting and backing away from the high wall of brush and deadfall, Quinsareth eased Bedlam's roar to a dull, metallic growl. The carnivorous plants pulled their vines back into the folds of thick roots and fallen limbs, displaying prominently their bright red berries in an effort to lure the aasimar closer again.
Quinsareth ignored the fruit and the sweet aroma it produced, taking the moment to scan his surroundings. The shadowalk was rarely accurate, even when he knew his destination well, but through the thick woods of the Qurth, he could see nothing of the tower he sought. Only a low hum that might have been a voice or a trick of the wind gave him any sense of direction.
Careful to skirt the edges of the bloodthorn and razorvine patches, he wound an uneven and slow path toward the sound, keeping his grip on Bedlam tight and his senses alert for the dangers that surrounded him. The sound grew louder, becoming more high pitched as he neared, picking out the notes in an unfamiliar tune. He stopped and looked closer, peering through the trees with his special dark-seeing vision.
He could make out the edges of a small clearing just past the trunk of a large tree with unusually pale bark. The strange song drew him closer. The tension in his muscles faded as the smell of wildflowers wafted toward him on the whistling wind. Shaking his head, trying to shove away the unnatural calm that settled over him, he crouched lower and knelt at the perimeter of the inviting grove.
Three white oak trees dominated the clearing, their ivory branches gently swaying overhead. The scene was like a dream, so unusual and peaceful in such a dark and forbidding forest. The song was disorienting and Quin leaned forward, falling to his knees as he gazed on the beauty he found. Some part of him struggled to resist, maintaining his grip on the oddly quiet Bedlam, but he could not fathom why he might need a weapon in this place.
His head swam and swayed with the branches, in tune with the lilting and otherworldly song. Words began to form in the music, as if the leaves were speaking, hissing in the wind and whispering in his ear.
"So lost he is, Myrrium."
"Yes, Oerryn, so far from home."
"What do you think, Aellspath?"
Quin fought to keep his eyes open, rolling them from left to right, seeking the source of the dry, whispering voices. The grove became a blur of white wood and bone-yellow leaves. A shape began to form in the center most tree. The surface of the trunk shifted and flowed like liquid to reveal misty white arms and an indistinct but beautiful face, framed by pale yellow locks of vines and leaves. The figure's milky skin was smooth and bare, unmistakably feminine as it crawled demurely toward him. Shimmering green eyes opened and closed like living flowers, capturing his will in a net of inescapable beauty and dark promise.
Her full lips moved out of sync with her voice, which was deeper and more