Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,73

I sat and listened to the fears and emotions, putting together a story with the images the basajaun showed me. “A dark mage came several weeks ago, and he released something.”

The basajaun nodded. Standing to his full height, he towered over us, and he slipped through the woods, his fur easily blending into the shadows cast by the trees. He stopped and beckoned us.

“I can only assume it was the blight,” I said.

Liam gently touched my shoulder. I winced. “Your shoulder is dislocated.” He reached for my arm, and with a twist and jerk, quickly popped it back into place.

I screamed in pain. “You should have warned me,” I snapped.

Devin cringed and gave an apologetic answer. “No, it’s worse when he gives notice because you tense up. This way was better.”

“Don’t take his side,” I growled, rubbing my shoulder. Though, I was relieved that it felt better.

The basajaun had stopped in the shadows of the trees and waited for us. I looked up and saw the bright sunny sky, but all around us the fog swirled.

“We’re close to the center of the vortex. We should follow him.”

Liam frowned, looking at the large creature. “I’m not one to follow a predator into its own hunting grounds.”

I shook my head. “We’re the predator here. Plus, I think we will find the answers you need.”

Liam turned to his men and made hand motions, and a look silenced any hesitations they had. But not for me. I heard their complaints loud and clear as we stepped into the woods and followed the basajaun. The farther we traveled, the more I noticed the signs of the fae hidden within view.

The mushroom circle, the white stones that left a trail to follow before we came to a humongous monolith of two stones. A long slab precariously balanced across a perpendicular stone, with three claw marks gouged into the piece. The men paused and remarked on the immense strength it would have taken for the beast to lift the boulders.

I smiled and answered their silent questions.

“The bigger the stone, the stronger the protector. It’s a warning for those that want to hurt the fae of the forest.” I pointed to the markings. “Each gouge mark symbolizes the number of basajaunak in this territory.”

“Three?” Hayes spoke up. “Really, why so few? I would have expected more.”

“It’s his family.” I hesitated, reading the basajaun’s thoughts. “Was his family. He is all that’s left and has been alone for many years.”

Instantly, the troops’ emotions changed from fear to relational. Those in our company with family dwelt on their own wives and children. Others related to the protective nature of the silent beast, and his desire to protect those within the forest.

We hadn’t traveled much farther beyond the monolith before the golden beast stopped and made a great whine. He refused to travel further into the village, his aura changing to one of fear.

I slipped past him and looked down into the valley at what was once a thriving haven for fae, but now resembled a mausoleum. The firethorn tree, their source of protection—and home for the smaller sprites and fairies—was split in two, dark scorch marks were still burned into the trunk.

The surrounding hills were once home to gnomes and hobs. All that remained were the shattered and burned doors that hung from hinges. The darkness within—empty like a tomb. A crunch fell beneath my boot as I accidentally crushed a fairy chair made of thistle.

When I looked close enough at the dead trees, I could see the human faces through the burned bark, the last images of the dryads. I clutched my stomach as I tried to shield myself from the pain that was radiating from this place.

I fell to my knees before the firethorn tree. I reached out to touch one of the sharp thorns, at least two inches in diameter. Their prick was deadly to humans, but not to fae. Taking a chance, I ran my finger over the spine and pressed the fleshy pad of my finger onto the thorn, feeling it pierce my skin.

The drop of blood pooled on my fingertip, and seconds later a vision washed over me. My connection to the land was strong as the great firethorn tree shared her memories.

I saw the fae village as it once was many years ago. Fairies flitted about the sky, dancing and weaving among the branches of the willows. A young basajaun was curled up in a glade, and little sprites were busy braiding acorns