Chapter Twenty-Seven

Herbs and Shrooms

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For the next week, the newest scaly addition to their camp appeared content to pretend she didn’t exist. Not that Inerys minded. Their interactions with one another, unlike most, were entirely voluntary and neither one had been willing or interested in pursuing more than the occasional glance. That was, if they spied one another at all from across the knoll with three other wyverns and a camp between them.

To say nothing of the differing hours they kept.

In truth, it was easy to forget Ephaxus was there at all. With how busy she’d been kept, there had been little time to reflect on anything other than her training. If she wasn’t moving, she was stretching and if she wasn’t stretching, she was cycling. The latter was often done during mealtimes, so bathing had been her only real reprieve outside the daylight hours she spent asleep.

Her efforts, however, were not without their results. Her coordination had developed enough to no longer prove a liability to her own health and by the end of the week, she and Rhydian were jogging laps along their usual route. She had a ways yet to go before she was truly out of danger, but she was improving. She felt stronger, healthier, even if new challenges had risen to replace the old.

There were discrepancies in her strength depending on what limb she employed during certain exercises as well as an innate favoring of one half of her body over the other. At first, she thought there had been something wrong with her, but both Rhydian and Sorisanna had assured her the imbalances were fairly common. She was new to intentional, structured conditioning, after all, so there were bound to be old habits and muscle memory in need of breaking. Most of which were already being addressed.

Despite the increase in difficulty, Inerys found herself looking forward to their sessions. Beyond alleviating her pain, they gave her an outlet to vent both her frustrations and fear. Doubts of ever seeing her family again began to ebb, for she was no longer on death’s door. Each day was another step toward home, toward Soren and Nan and Alaric. Toward regaining herself, once this business was over.

Even if she found herself beginning to crave more.

None of this would have been possible without the dedication of those she quietly considered friends. They were strange, often intimidating and sometimes aloof, but they were good people. They pushed her and the challenge, the camaraderie, the sense of accomplishment were all fun. Cydan often joined her and Rhydian during their ventures, as did Sorisanna on the rare occasion she had time to spare after leading Ephaxus through his own recovery exercises. The only odd one out, aside from the ever elusive Vesryn, was Ayduin. Though, the woman had gifted Inerys several new soaps to help combat her post-training stench.

She was still admiring the lingering scent of her latest bar –lavender and oat– when something rustled further up the path. It was barely audible over the burbling of the stream beside her, but her ears were keen. Slowly, she lowered the towel from her damp hair, her attention shifting toward the source.

Between the trees and thick foliage, she could see little from her position and there were no scents to catch, thanks to the current direction of the wind. Short of calling out, she would either have to approach herself or wait to see who or what might emerge. She backed a step toward her bow, even if her instincts had yet to raise the alarm. The others tended to announce themselves, lest they catch her in an unfortunate state of undress.

Thankfully, she had already donned a fresh set of clothes now that she was clean.

She waited, listening, but whomever it was had yet to reveal themselves. Had it simply been a hare or some other forest-dwelling visitor? She’d noted more than enough activity around the banks, so it wasn’t an unfounded assumption. Still, she backed a step closer to the boulder she used to set her satchel and bow upon while she bathed.

“Hello?” She called, knowing Rhydian would reach her in seconds if her visitor proved hostile and she unable to defend herself.

All she had to do was scream.

Her concerns all but evaporated when a familiar head of golden hair popped out from behind one of the trees.

Inerys blinked and immediately withdrew her fingers from her weapon.

“Sorisanna? Is that you?”

“Sorry!” She squeaked, “I wasn’t spying on you, I promise!”

Leaning her hips against the boulder, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as the woman approached.

“A little hard to believe when you’re hiding in the bushes, hmm?”

The sage waved her free hand, the other balancing a covered basket in the crook of her arm.

“I spied a cluster of mushrooms in the underbrush and couldn’t resist. I’d hardly call that hiding,” she said, then pursed her lips, glancing up the way she’d come, “but now that you mention it . . . I can see it being suspect. I probably should have announced myself.”

Inerys grinned as she pinched the air between her thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t worry, you were only a little suspicious,” she teased.

“Yes, well, it was worth it,” she said, reaching into her basket with a giddy bounce, “Aren’t they lovely?”

The red-orange shroom she held aloft was of a sort Inerys had never seen before. It was irregularly shaped, but large as it was bright. From the brief glimpse she’d caught beneath the linen, the woman must have found over a dozen.

“What are they? I’m afraid I’ve never seen them that color. ”

“Lobster mushrooms,” she said, tilting her head, “You’ve never had them before?”

What in spirits’ name was a lobster?

“I can’t say I have.”

A slow, mischievous smirk graced the woman’s lips.

“We’ll have to change that. Lucky for you, I’m an excellent cook.”

“Wait, you eat those?”

“That’s typically what one does with mushrooms, no?”

Inerys made a face, “But they’re a fungus.”

Sorisanna gave her a flat look, “Please don’t tell me people don’t eat mushrooms where you come from?”

“I always sold those I found to the Guild. Spirits know what they were used for,” she said with a shudder, “for all I know, maybe they were used as some strange delicacy. You’ll never catch a Hound eating them, though. We have standards.”

Well, they had standards.

She wasn’t exactly a Hound anymore now was she?

The sage rolled her eyes. “Standards. Why don’t you actually try them before condemning my tastes, hmm?”

The thought of cooking the little bastards made her green around the edges. Their normal texture was questionable enough as it was, to say nothing of how horrendous they turned when soggy. Suddenly, all she could think about were the foul-smelling caps that often hid beneath the ferns during the rainy season. The distinct squish and subsequent slip of unwittingly stepping on one with her boot was enough to make her sick and she nearly heaved at the mere memory.

She grimaced.

“But . . . fungus.”

“I put them in your tea, you know.”

She. What?

“You’re lying.”

She had to be.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Inerys, dear, I never lie,” she cooed, though her eyes went wide when she actually started to gag, “all right, all right, I’m sorry! They’re in a powdered form, you would have never known if I hadn’t said something.”

“Spirits, why put them in a tea at all?”

“Believe it or not, many of them are actually quite good for you. No offense, but in the state you’re in, you need all the help you can get. They’re hard to come by, but the mushrooms I use are often more potent than some of the other herbs.”

She shivered. “I’d almost prefer to wither away.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Sorisanna drawled, “you’re almost as bad as the wyverns.”

She wanted to argue, but knew it was a losing battle. Instead, she made to politely gather her things.

“I’ve finished here, if you’d like to take your turn,” she said in an effort to avoid any additional shroomy revelations.

“That’s kind, but I bathed while you and the others were gone. I’m here for you, actually. There’s something I’d like to test.”

There was always something the woman wanted to test.

And of course, Inerys was always the subject.

Rounding the boulder so that she stood opposite to her, Sorisanna set her basket down to draw back the heavy linen. Nestled among the mushrooms, was a wooden mug with cloth wrapped neatly around the top to spare the contents within from any unwanted debris. Inerys knew what she would find inside, for the breeze had teased her nose with the scent. Her breath hitched, subtle, yet enough to draw the sage’s attention.

The cravings she’d begun to experience were a recent development. Thus far, she had been able to ignore them and convince herself the allotment she already received was more than enough to meet her needs, but it seemed that was no longer the case. She wanted nothing more than to snatch up her prize and drink until she was drunk on essence. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She’d promised herself she would never lose control and force Rhydian to follow through on his word.

Not when she was so close.

Reining in her thirst, she asked, “What exactly are you here to test?”

“With luck? A viable alternative to Rhydian and Cydan’s blood–”

Inerys’ eyes snapped up to the woman’s face.

“He told you?”

“I’ve known since the beginning, actually,” she sighed, “I’m the one who gave him the needle when you left. Before that, the brave fool was using a knife.”

The thought of Rhydian slitting his wrists for her benefit still made her skin crawl. Discussing it had helped ease the awkwardness and guilt, but having Sorisanna know filled her with shame, like she were an addict admitting to some unsavory habit they only just realized was an open secret. Perhaps it was foolish, though, given Sorisanna had been the most accepting of them all.

“I see,” she said, voice little more than a breath.

“There’s no need to fret, Inerys. This is a learning curve for us all, remember? If it’s any consolation, your reaction just now gives me hope this might actually work.”

She glanced back toward the mug, knowing alternative could mean any number of things. By the smell, she knew the blood didn’t belong to either of the men. It was mixed, of course, but she couldn’t place the other scents.

“Whose is it?”

The sage smiled and set the mug between them.

“No one’s. This is solely the blood of your last catch. I’ve infused it with several herbs, so you should find it more palatable. Try it. See what you think.”

She had a hard time believing it was the same blood, but she humored her and raised it to her lips. She braced herself for the gaminess, yet it never came. The blood was a touch thicker than normal, but the taste and essence were both perfect. It was as if she were indulging in a luxurious, spiced tea rather than the watered down bile she often experienced when drinking deer’s blood on its own.

A soft growl of pleasure escaped her as she drew back.

“How in spirits’ name did you manage this?”

The woman offered her a feline smile, “Herbs. And you’ve just proven my theory correct. You’re drawn to the vital essence more than the actual blood itself. It occurs naturally in other animals, of course, but the saturation levels are much higher in those who actively cycle it. So, sentient creatures, for ease of explanation. I thought that if I could pack enough supplemental essence into what you were already hunting, I could solve the issue.”

“I think you have,” she breathed, “the extra essence is in the herbs, then?”

She nodded, “These were specially grown, so their concentration is much higher than what you might find elsewhere. Curiously enough, it’s easier to foster essence saturation in plants than animals. Even if you feed them to livestock, the crop will always prove superior. I was hoping I could forage for more here in the wilds, but the quality we’ll need will likely be further in.”

“Rhydian mentioned moving camp soon. Maybe we’ll be able to find what you need once we’re settled?”

“Hopefully. The spirit wilds are a treasure trove, so we’re bound to find something. In the event we can’t find the right sort of herbs, I could always strip the essence from another kill and infuse it with another. It might take some experimentation, but I’ll figure something out.”

“I didn’t realize that was something you could do,” Inerys said.

“To be fair, most people can’t. It all depends on your affinity. Mine happens to be vital essence, so I can touch and manipulate it while someone like Rhydian, whose spirit is aligned with fire, cannot.”

Curious.

“But he could strip fire from one source to infuse it into another?”

“If he has the skill for it, which I know he does, yes. But that being said, there’s more to it than affinity alone. To be able to wield an element at will, you need to be able to exercise your authority over it, which is where your mental core comes in. Willpower is one of the most important aspects, but it’s also the most difficult to cultivate.”

Inerys took measured sips from her mug as she listened.

“How so?”

“Think of it as a mental muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it becomes. There’s no way to absorb psionic essences the way you can elemental or physical, so you have to improve what is already there through other means. Physically working your body builds your willpower, as does exercising self-discipline. Much the way you are right now, actually. Among other things.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Sorisanna gestured toward the mug. “You want to down that whole thing in one sitting, but you’re taking sips instead. I can see it in your eyes, the tightness in your shoulders. You’ve been white-knuckling your grip this entire time.”

The wood creaked in Inerys’ hands as if to make a point and she grimaced.

Spirits’, did anything ever make it past this woman?

“It takes more effort than I’d like to admit. Am I on the right track, then?”

The sage gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re doing better than I’d hoped. My own observations aside, Rhydian has been singing your praises ever since I arrived.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, “He has?”

“I’d say he’s as impressed as I am,” she grinned.

Her heart practically fluttered into her throat.

“He's a good man,” she said, raising her mug to hide her smile, “I wouldn’t be doing half as well as I am without he and the others. And you, of course.”

Her whole face was suddenly very warm, as was the back of her neck. She was certain Sorisanna had noticed, though the woman only smiled. Which, as she thought about it, might have been worse. There was far too much knowing behind those emerald eyes of hers.

“Mending broken things is as much a pleasure as it is my duty. I’m glad I can help. I’ve been meaning to ask, though, may I see how your shackles are holding?”

She’d nearly forgotten about them herself, if she were honest.

“Of course. Would you like me to sit down?”

“No, no, I can sense them perfectly well from here. I just wanted to ask before I went poking around in your soul. Intruding without permission is bad form.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“Some like to follow the whole ‘it's better to ask forgiveness than permission’ mantra, but I’ve always found it in poor taste,” she said.

Warmth spread along Inerys’ body as she spoke and sank deep. The sensation was a familiar one, though there was something different about it now, like her own body were now more aware of the intrusion. Her skin prickled as she was laid bare, faults and all, beneath the woman’s careful study.

Sorisanna’s eyes grew distant and glassy.

“Your core has eaten through the first shackle, but that was to be expected,” she said, “I’d say you have a few days before the next is lost. All in all, I’d say my initial estimations are still sound.”

“So I only have a few more weeks?”

“With your current set? Give or take. If need be, I can probably set another two without risking too much of my reserves.”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to resort to that, but I appreciate it.”

“You’re doing wonderfully. So long as you keep your focus, you’ll have nothing to worry about. With a mental core as resilient as yours, I’m confident you’ll be able to handle that beast of a spirit when the time comes. Your body is the only real liability right now, but given your trajectory, it won’t remain that way for long.”

She breathed a shallow sigh of relief. She could do this. She had time. More importantly, she had the knowledge and support of those around her.

“When the time does come, what should I expect?” She asked.

For the first time since she’d known her, the sage appeared uncertain.

“Honestly? I have no idea. Most people don’t have to contend with a core like yours right away. It has to be awakened and that in itself can be a lengthy process. The empyreal meridian has to be consciously opened in order to even access it. Yours . . . Whatever it was that was passed on to you forced yours open. I’m not quite sure how or why, but if we can bolster your willpower, you should be able to wrestle it down once that final shackle breaks.”

It was difficult to swallow past the tightness in her throat.

“Wrestle it. Right.”

If only it were that easy.

Sorisanna reached across the stone to take her hand, “You won’t be alone when it happens. You have my word. Rhydian, Cydan and I, we’ll all be there.”

Inerys eased and focused on her breathing. Taking a moment to switch between cycling techniques helped clear her thoughts and quell any rising panic before it could overtake her. Apparently, there were advantages to structured activity, to deliberate stretching and breathwork. One by one, her muscles relaxed, the knot in her gut slowly beginning to unravel itself.

“Keep my focus. I can do that,” she said.