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Orym passed the cane back to Chetney as he finished explaining the toxin, feeling his stomach roiling. The rest of the group fell into hushed discussions about their next steps, but Orym fell back a little, scanning around him and fighting a sudden wave of exhaustion.
Otahan had pulled Eshteross’s name from his mind. If she’d had her toxins prepared three of them would be dead right now, including himself.
The memory rose in his mind, unbidden, from where he tried so hard to keep it locked away. Kneeling in the blood soaked grass, helpless, silent tears streaming down his face, seeing the shake of heads as they realized the fallen were beyond reach.
He barely remembered crawling to Will, clutching him, refusing to let go until the Tempest herself gently removed him, and even then he grasped for him. She carried him away, speaking softly in words he couldn’t register, looking back over her arm at father and son.
A strong hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Ashton watching him. “I’m fine,” he said, rough voice betraying him.
“Sure,” said Ashton, keeping pace with him.
Orym sighed and scrubbed his face in his hands. While they’d been celebrating the return of Laudna’s life under the tree, had Eshteross been losing his?
Ashton didn’t make any promises they knew they couldn’t keep, simply stayed by Orym as they neared the Spire by Fire. Orym tried to force his thoughts to the present, looking over the group, this family, knowing he’d gladly throw his body between them and any danger, no matter the cost.
Orym scanned the room as they entered, but saw no immediate danger. Ashton stepped away to get drinks for everyone. He wordlessly followed the others to a table, trying in vain to lock the pain and grief away. There would be time for all of that later. Right now they needed to plan.
And Orym felt cold certainty that one day it would be Otahan dead at his feet.