Tyrus nodded. “Exactly. It is lost to human memory. But it is written in the trees in those cursed woods. Another Dryad could read what is written there. Another Dryad could learn the truth. I have my suspicions, but you need facts. Let me hasten to provide them.” Tyrus leaned forward, his face intense. “While I was in hiding, caring for your mother, I pondered what went wrong. I did not have your insight then. I wish I had it earlier, but experience is the thing that you get just after the time when you need it most. It was in a little stone hovel when I realized we had walked into a trap. We had hardly grazed the outer defenses of the woods before we were so violently attacked and repelled. I kept asking myself how they had known we were coming? How had they assembled so quickly? I could not see it then, but it came to me.”
A thought struck Annon forcefully. “The Arch-Rike.”
Tyrus smiled broadly. “Truly you are wiser than I was at your age. Exactly. He had given us his blessing. Blithely sending us away to our deaths. Some secrets must remain hidden at all costs. Whatever travesty or injustice occurred in the Scourgelands, it is clear to me now that the Rikes of Kenatos seek to continue it. I had a choice to make. I knew that if I did not return to Kenatos, the Arch-Rike would suspect that I had discovered his treachery. So I voluntarily went back into my prison after you were born and left you to live with the Druidecht in Wayland. I returned and admitted my failure to the Arch-Rike. I told him I had barely escaped with my life and had been healing and regaining my strength. This was true, of course. Just not the whole truth. I gave him just enough. He never knew Merinda was with child. I did not want him to know about you.”
Annon pursed his lips. “Why did you come to me as a child?”
“You know the answer already. Why even ask it?”
“You knew I had the fireblood and that it would destroy me if I did not learn to tame it.”
Tyrus gave him an approving nod. “Then I went back into my prison so that I could continue my work. I know as a child you wished I could call for you. That I would claim you. But I could not, Annon. I needed knowledge that could only be found in Kenatos. I learned everything I could about the Dryads. I even had a tree brought to the tower. I became obsessed with understanding them. I needed to know their powers and their abilities. There are no detailed records, since the Druidecht refuse to document their knowledge, but there are clues. Even a few stories about them in the archives. I realized that in order to learn the truth, I would need to bring a Dryad into the Scourgelands. A Dryad that was not bound to a specific tree.”
“What?” Annon asked, his mind racing. “You are going too fast!”
“Hush,” Tyrus said, holding up his hand. The old woman emerged from the kitchen with trays of cheeses, nuts, and figs. Tyrus thanked her politely and asked for something else. She nodded and retreated back into the kitchen.
Tyrus leaned even closer to Annon. “I still do not know what the injustice was. I could only imagine it was a betrayal of some kind. I needed wisdom. I needed knowledge that I could not have any other way. I had studied and studied. I wrung every drop of truth I could find. But I could not put the pieces together. And so I sought for a Dryad’s kiss myself. I did not know it at the time, but I had rescued the tree because it was the last of its kind, existing on the road to Kenatos. All of its sister trees had been cut down. It would fall to the woodcutter’s ax. I had it moved into the city at great expense. There were many who thought me quite eccentric. But I moved it and planted it in the courtyard of the Paracelsus Towers. I waited by the tree. She visited me. I did not look. I knew it would not be wise to do so. I learned her name, just as you did last night at another tree. And she gave me a kiss, which allowed it all to make sense. That is when I realized the truth. That is when I realized what I needed to do.”
“The Arch-Rike is a man of great personal integrity and honor. It is a position, to be sure, but also a legacy that goes back many centuries. How does one become the Arch-Rike of Kenatos? A king of Wayland is born to rule. The Vaettir chose their princes of those with the most compassion and humility. The Preachán follow he who controls the most ducats and influence. But the Arch-Rike must be a leader of men. He must have vision and the ability to express that vision in words. He must set a high moral standard that others gladly follow. He is chosen in a conclave by the Rikes of Seithrall. The decision is always unanimous.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
Annon’s mouth was dry. The food sat untouched on the tray before him. “Yes?”
Erasmus sauntered over and began swiping dried figs from the tray. “You sired a Dryad,” he said between mouth-fuls. “Didn’t you?”