David Farland - Wizardborn

That’s why he’d felt that placing her in the water was an act of betrayal.

More than that, he realized how truly she loved him. She didn’t just want to follow him to Inkarra. She’d just given up a chance to serve the Powers, to become a wizardess and live in the sea. Few who were born to such a fate could resist the call of the oceans.

Myrrima leaned into him then, and kissed him. Borenson felt his body respond to her. Binnesman had healed him, beyond his wildest hopes or imagining.

The room was empty but for the two of them, and finally he felt ready to love her in return.

“I guess I ought to pay that wizard more than a pint of ale after all,” Borenson teased. He held her passionately for a long moment, and pulled her close.

As afternoon waned toward night, Erin and Celinor rode out of Fleeds, through southern Heredon, and into the borders of South Crowthen. As they went north, the land got drier, and the colors of autumn leaves lit up the countryside.

Erin had not slept last night, dared not sleep again. Yet all day long she considered the words of her dreams, the talk of the dangerous locus Asgaroth who had come to destroy her world. She did not speak of it to Celinor, for she considered that if she did, he might think that she was raving.

Yet the owl’s words had pierced her, inscribed knowledge on her heart. She suspected that the owl had summoned her, that perhaps some part of her even now was trapped in the netherworld, awaiting further instruction.

She believed that something more than a mere Darkling Glory was on their world—that a locus had come among them. She craved to know more about it, yet dared not succumb to fatigue.

Guards met Erin and Celinor at the border, several hundred knights and minor lords who had set bright pavilions along the roadside. The borders here were hilly, and filled with bracken. A few dozen carts and horses had stopped as merchants tried to pass the roadblock.

As Erin and Celinor rode past, one old man recognized Celinor and shouted, “Prince Celinor Anders, speak to your father for me. I’ve traded with him for years, eaten at his own table. This is madness!”

Celinor made to ride past the roadblock himself, but pikemen blocked the way. A young captain led them. He was dark of hair, like Celinor, and nearly as tall. His eyes had a fanatical gleam to them. “Sorry, your lordship,” he said. “I have orders to let no one cross.”

“Gantrell?” Celinor asked. “Are you going blind? Or have I changed that much?”

“These be dangerous times,” Gantrell apologized. “My orders are clear: no one in, no one out.”

“Even your crown prince?”

Gantrell gave Celinor an appraising look, said nothing, Erin could imagine the turmoil in the man’s mind. If he let Celinor through, he would be violating orders. If he didn’t, Celinor would hold it against him for the rest of his life—and King Anders was rapidly getting old, declining in health.

“I’ll let you pass,” he said cautiously, “with an escort.”

Celinor nodded. “That would be appreciated.”

“But not the woman,” Gantrell said, glancing at Erin. She wore a horsesister’s simple attire—a woolen tunic stained from the road over her leather armor.

” ‘The woman,’ ” Celinor said, “is my wife, and will someday be your queen!”

Gantrell tilted his head to the side and cringed, as if he had just recognized that he’d made a mistake that would cost him a career.

“Then,” he said, “welcome to South Crowthen, milady.”

He bowed curtly, and Erin rode into South Crowthen under heavy guard. Knights rode at every side—a dozen ahead, a dozen behind, a dozen to their left and another to their right. Gantrell rode beside them, and kept sneaking sly looks at Erin.

“Am I under arrest?” Erin demanded when she could take it no more.

“Of course not,” Gantrell replied. Yet he did not sound sure of his answer.

Sweat poured from Averan. She held the Waymaker with her mind, absorbed his knowledge. Without having tasted the brains of other reavers, she would not have been able to make sense of it all. She concentrated on building a mental image, a map of the Underworld. As she did, all other sights and sounds were gone. She was not aware of the scents of the day, or of the noises, or of the time that passed.

When Averan broke contact, she collapsed in a swoon.

In a daze she looked around her, saw that night had descended. With the sun departing, the air had cooled. She had searched the Waymaker’s memory for hours.

The Waymaker lay before her, dehydrated, rasping its last. Its mouth gaped with each breath, and the philia around its armored head hung like rags. The creature would not survive the night.

Gaborn had stayed beside her all this time.

Now he picked Averan up, held her in his strong arms. “Come,” he said, “let’s get away from this monster. It’s still dangerous.”

He won’t eat me, Averan wanted to tell him. But she didn’t know if that was true. Besides, she could hardly work her throat. Her mouth was dry, and she felt so weary, so drained, that it wasn’t worth the effort to speak.

Gaborn carried her a dozen yards, to a cart. A driver sat atop it, rubbing his eyes, fighting sleep. The team of horses stood dozing in their traces.

“What happened? Where is everyone?” Averan managed to croak. Her head was spinning.

“You’ve been standing over that reaver for hours, for the whole day,” Gaborn said. “The rest of the knights are following the horde south. But Binnesman is here, and his wylde.”

“Good,” Averan said. She always felt comforted in Binnesman’s presence. Overhead a fireball raced across the sky. It left a churning red trail of smoke behind. Almost immediately she saw another flash of light, and another. Everywhere in the sky, the stars were falling. Dozens came in the space of a few heartbeats.

“What’s going on?” Averan asked, as Gaborn put her on a seat. He climbed up beside her. The driver cracked his whip, and the cart lurched forward.

“The One True Master has bound the Seal of Heaven to the Seal of Desolation and the Seal of the Inferno,” Gaborn answered. His jaw was tight. “We must break those seals.”

“You mean it’s already done?”

“Already,” he said. “And there’s something else. I suspect that the reavers defeated Raj Ahten at Kartish. Now the danger is...far more immediate, and growing by the minute. Do you know the way now to the Place of Bones?”

“Yes,” Averan said with conviction.

“Can you tell me how to get there?”

“No,” she said. “Not if we had a month.”

“Will you lead me then? While you were busy, Iome brought some men—a facilitator and some vectors. I’ve already taken endowments of scent. I can smell the reavers’ words here, thick on the ground. But I can’t make sense of them.”

Averan shuddered. She had glimpsed the Underworld through the eyes of reavers, through the eyes of the Waymakers who knew it best. The journey would be long and perilous. Worse things than reavers lay before them.

Her thoughts seemed muddled.

The darkening skies yawned wide, and stars dropped from the firmament. What happens when they all fall down? she wondered. Will the night go dark?

She shuddered again. This is not what she’d have wanted from life.

“Take me to the vectors,” she said. “I’ll lead you the best that I can.”