Page 112 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

Malahi broke off, her face flushing, then she said, “ Mudamora will not leave Gamdesh to stand alone. But we cannot fight a double-sided war in earnest. We need time.”

“Gamdesh has not conceded territory in generations,” Kaira said quietly. “And my father is proud. I don’t think he can be convinced to accept the loss of Emrant to Celendor, no matter the cost of trying to take it back. He… I can’t fail him. That isn’t an option.”

Lydia’s heart ached at the hollowness in the woman’s voice, though Kaira remained composed.

“We are still gathering our forces,” Kaira continued.

“It will be another few weeks before we have all our soldiers at the ready, as well as the ships we need to attack the Cel from both sides. We will give you every resource at our disposal until then, and with luck, we’ll both make our moves against our enemies. ”

Two of the librarians came into the antechamber at that moment, moving slowly, a wood-and-glass case suspended between them.

An open book rested in the center of it.

“We’ve found something of interest,” one of them said.

“But it is fragile beyond measure. To read it through even once might see its destruction.”

They gently set the box on the table, and Lydia sucked in a sharp breath at the faded illustration on the open pages, which showed a man with both hands outstretched, one with black lines trailing out from it, the other with lines of silver.

Lydia read from the page: “Blessed are the marked who use the power of the Six to serve the people, for they are salvation against the endless night delivered by the Seventh.”

Malahi moved to sit at her elbow, everyone else crowding around to look at the open pages.

“It was in the back of the ancient collection room,” one of the librarians said. “Judging from the dust, the case has not been removed in centuries.”

Lydia pulled on the white cotton gloves she used to handle the old books and then took a deep breath and lifted the glass case.

Only to cringe as the pages visibly deteriorated the moment fresh air struck the book, bits crumbling from the edges and the whole volume seeming to sag.

“Write down everything I say,” she said to one of the assistants.

“We will not get a second chance at this.”

The young woman sat across from her with blank pages, ink, and a pen, the latter of which she held at the ready as Lydia gingerly slid a flat piece of metal under the page to support it and carefully turned it over.

The edges crumbled into dust, bits of paint flaking away, but as her eyes moved over the illustration of a woman touching ground laced with black veins, Lydia breathed, “I think we’ve found it, Malahi.

These words… They are written by the marked featured in the illustrations.

These are the words of those who fought the blight at some point. ”

Malahi pressed close to her as Lydia translated. “Killing the corrupted tenders stopped the progress of the blight, but it did nothing to remove it from the land, and it still killed anything it touched.”

“That won’t do,” Malahi muttered. “Mudamora is overrun. It’s not livable unless we strip the blight from the land.”

“Agreed.” Lydia turned the page. “Especially since this says that if you leave the blight, the corrupted tenders eventually regenerate and reform. Like ripping out the head of a weed but leaving the root, they come back. Nothing those combating them did, not fire nor blade, stopped them from coming back. Which likely means the one I thought I killed wasn’t entirely dead. ”

“The Six have mercy,” the assistant breathed, writing swiftly as she transcribed Lydia’s words. “An abomination of Yara’s gift.”

Lydia tentatively turned the page, cringing as it crumbled.

“Does it say how they were destroyed?” Malahi leaned over the illustrations. “Wait… did they—”

“The Anuk tenders took control of the corrupted tenders,” Lydia said quietly. “Then they reversed the flow of the blight. It killed them.”

Malahi sat upright, and Lydia did not fail to notice how her eyes tracked to Agrippa, who sat with his head resting in his hands. “I see. Does it say anything more?”

“Only that they crumbled to dust,” Lydia said softly. “And were celebrated as the saviors of the land. But there are more pages to read. There could be more to learn.”

“I don’t think there is.” Malahi’s eyes welled with tears.

“I can’t do it, Lydia. Destroying one of the corrupted tenders and their roots of blight will kill me, and you said there were eight.

By now there could be more. Which means we need more tenders willing to die to save Reath, but how many are left?

How do we find them in time? What if they won’t do it? ”

“What if I keep you alive?” Lydia removed her gloved hands from the book. “I can draw life from all around, Malahi. All I need to do is keep you strong and alive while you destroy the plant from within.”

Malahi drew in a shaky breath. “Do you think it’s possible? Why wouldn’t the Anuk healers have done so, if it were? Those like Ceenah?”

“Because they weren’t strong enough.” Lydia leaned back in her chair. “Hegeria touched me twice. Marked me twice, and I can pull the untapped life from all across Reath to keep you alive. This is it. This has to be the solution.”

They all stared at one another, the silence broken as a soldier ran into the room. “General!” he gasped. “You must come immediately!”

“What has happened?” Kaira demanded. “Has Astara returned? Are the Cel on the move?”

“Worse.” There was fear in his eyes. “They’re already here.”