The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Fourteen

I waited until night was beginning to fall before I left the hovel. Dalton and Ronov were beginning to relax, certain that the dryads harboured little threat to them, and were now sat on their mats beside the small fire pit, playing with cards that Ronov had pulled from an inside pocket in his cloak. 'Gets lonely on the coast,' he muttered at my confused expression.

Frustrated by their lack of concern for Sebastien, I got to my feet, unable to sit in the dark room any longer.

'Where are you going, lass?' the giant asked without looking up from his cards.

'For a walk,' I replied sharply, hoping he wouldn't see through my words. Dalton swore when Ronov threw two cards onto the floor triumphantly. The smuggler looked up at me, his grey eyes narrowing, 'He will be fine. Probably canoodling with a pretty young dryad. He is a red-blooded male after all,' he teased, raising an eyebrow and smirking in Dalton's direction. The giant laughed until a glare from me silenced him.

'Dryads and humans can...' my voice trailed off with embarrassment.

'Oh yes.' Ronov's eyes twinkled knowingly. I flushed and left the hut.

The air outside was refreshing after the stuffy, smokiness of the hovel. I was convinced that the homes would never survive a winter, yet Sona had mentioned that they had been on the island for years. I breathed in the cool air while the elders crossed the clearing to their homes, but the daughters were nowhere to be seen.

I was angry, and now that I was finally alone, I was able to charge unseen across the muddy ground and into the trees, mulling over my conversation with Sona, or rather Sona's abuse of power. The way in which she had used her magic with such finesse and ease riled me even more than the way she had revealed the fact that I was a murderer. I didn't understand why I had been gifted with power that I could not wield. Surely it would be better off in the hands of a dryad like Sona?

Like the darkness in my dreams, the dryad had invaded my thoughts without my permission. How else could she know what had happened in Willowheathe? Perhaps she was lying to me, the image that she gave me could have been constructed or counterfeit?

Perhaps all of the fairy tales that Aunt Magda had told me were true. Something had allowed me to survive that day at the river. I was starting to think that Sona's images told the truth. I had been taught to be frightened of the forest in Willowheathe, and not to cross the river, but the monsters that I expected to find did not exist. I was the monster. I was a murderer. I fought against the pang of homesickness in my stomach as I continued walking into the forest.

I was ready to fight, to scream and shout. I was a murderer, yet I had companions who were protecting me at every turn. Everything was in reverse. They should have been wary of me, not risking their lives for me. I had the power to save them...or hurt them.

A low rumble of noise from the clearing behind me caught my attention, and I turned to find that the light from the fires had been doused. I was left alone, in the cool night air.

A deep voice drifted in and out from the wide tree trunks in the dark. The low voice was singing a song, almost in tune, that I had never heard before. It was a song about heartbreak. I reached for a nearby tree trunk, tripping on its roots as I stepped closer to the shadow of the trees.