Lady of Poison by Bruce R. Cordell Page A

Nentyarch who sits-in-exile in Yeshelmaar. The Nentyarch must know what has happened here:”
    “Yeshelmaar?” she blurted.
    “You’ve been away from the fold for quite some time, then, Elowen?” ventured Briartan. He continued, “Yes, seek both the Council of Lethyr and the Nentyarch in Yeshelmaar. Bring him the Keystone.”
    Marrec wanted to ask his own questions, but Elowen needed a moment with her friend. He glanced up to see what Ususi was doing. The mage was crouched, studying the scattered debris of the blightlord’s possessions.
    Elowen, trying to keep the druid engaged, said, “I’d hoped that the Nentyarch was still in the Rawlinswood. If he’s taken a seat in Yeshelmaar, it must mean the Rotting Man was too strong for even the Nentyarch. When I left on my mission, Yeshelmaar was being prepared as a possible seat-in-exile. I hoped it would not come to pass.” She bit her lip then asked, “Briartan, was Gameliel acting as an emissary of the Rotting Man?”
    “You know he was, and he is but the least of the blightlords who give their allegiance to the Talontyr. Anammelech’s unnatural tread causes the forest to shiver, and Damanda is nearly a power in her own right, yet she has the ear of the Rotting Man.” The conversation
    was fast sapping the druid’s last reserves of strength. Briartan’s eyes began to stray upward, attempting to focus on vistas invisible to the living.
    “Briartan,” Marrec jumped in, realizing the druid was close to departing, “I have traveled far seeking answers. The goddess Lurue, who you may know, is losing contact with many of her servants, me included. My quest is to renew that connection. My quest has led me first to this strange child, who we call Ash, and also the Child of Light, and now to you. It seems that, for reasons I don’t understand the Rotting Man wants the girl. More than that, I need to know who this girl is, and why she is important to Lurue. Do you have any answers for me, great druid?”
    Briartan considered Marrec’s speech a moment before responding. Then he said, “I know of Lurue, the Unicorn Queen. She may have quieted her connection to you, but if she has, it is most assuredly for a good reason. It is strange, though—I do not sense that all connections of the Unicorn Queen and the world have weakened as yours has. You must seek the Nentyarch for your answers—he has time I lack.” Briartan paused, straining to gather more breath. His color, briefly renewed by Marrec’s craft, was failing once more.
    Ash wandered up of her own accord and fixed the dying druid with her guileless stare.
    Seeing her, Briartan’s eyes widened. “This is the child?”
    Marrec nodded.
    Briartan made a reverent sign with a shaking hand. He said, “Yes, she is special; I can see that with even my failing eyes. Keep her safe, unicorn warrior. One day, this Child of Light will answer to the Rotting Man’s depredations.” He broke into a fit of coughing. The druid’s time was drawing to a close.
    Briartan’s cough subsided. He fixed his gaze straight up. At last he whispered, “The cycle of life may not be denied. Death gives way to life, and life…”
    The druid’s gaze remained fixed even as his breath
    whispered away, rising in to penetrate the boughs and branches that hid the clearing from the sky above. Never more would the wisdom of the druid of Lethyr grace the forests.
    Marrec closed Briartan’s eyes. A tear traced a path from Elowen’s full eyes down her cheek. She spoke then in the language of the elves.
    Though Marrec knew only a few fragments of the sylvan tongue, it seemed that Elowen was asking for blessings and aid to Briartan’s spirit from a series of elven deities and great spirits of the forest.
    When she finished, Elowen stood. She said simply, “He will be missed,” then walked to the edge of the clearing, seeking solace in the unContaminated growth beyond the stone circle.
    ŚŠŚ
    Later, they laid Briartan to rest according to the