First Rider's Call
Page 67
Was this the future she was seeing, or the past? Was it simply a dream?
“We must ensure the destruction of the wall,” one of the whisperers said.
No, Karigan wanted to say, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“The power is flowing from the breach. It has to be what’s behind all the strange occurrences.”
“Our time has come. It’s the sign we’ve been looking for.”
“—arising. The D’Yers will be dealt with if—”
“The Second Empire will—”
Karigan found herself unable to focus on the words, and the haze shadowed her vision further. There were others here, listeners who floated about the whisperers, veils of milky light that darted to and fro, above and around the group, which was quite unaware of them.
One of the listeners paused long enough to coalesce into a luminous man-shaped figure standing just outside the whisperer’s circle. It wielded a translucent sword, and ran it through one of the whisperers, but the whisperer did not fall, and did not even appear to feel the phantom blade. The listener lost shape and darted upward to hover above the group.
A strange dream, Karigan thought. Pulling her knees to her chest, she closed her eyes and sank into herself. So cold . . .
Journal of Hadriax el Fex
I grow weary with the passage of yet another year in these lands. Our stockade has grown into a large town, garrisoning the thousands of soldiers who have arrived from the Empire. The forest retreats ever northward as it is hewn to be shipped back as raw lumber to the Empire. The shore of the bay of Ull-um has become muddy and filthy with civilization, and the wildlife scarce. Even the fish are not as plentiful. Alessandros, however, is very proud of the settlement and calls it Alessanton after himself.
Alessandros’ plan to pit the Sacor Clans against one another has proven successful, averting their attention and weapons from us. And he has drawn four powerful clan chiefs to his side. They promise to be faithful servants, and Alessanaros promises in return a magnificent gift: unending life. How he will accomplish this, I am uncertain, but at the moment, he and his mages are focusing on creating a device that will augment their powers tenfold, so we might invade the Elt land of Argenthyne with success.
Alessandros says that he will do this to find the answers on how to heal Arcosia; that surely the Elt know the secret of how he can bring etherea across the ocean. He has always been taken by these people who appear to me as earthly angels, God’s chosen ones who stand to humble the rest of the lowly.
I am a soldier, but I fear this invasion. I fear battling what appear to me the earthly angels of God. Still, I promised Alessandros I would stand beside him no matter what comes. It brought tears to his eyes to hear it, and he told me he loves no one better.
FOLLOWING FOOTSTEPS
When the noon bell rang, Mara wondered idylly where Karigan had gotten to. After all, the captain’s errands shouldn’t have taken very long. Maybe she had stayed at the castle to take her midday meal in the dining hall, though it was unlike her not to report back immediately after the completion of an errand.
One hour soon came and went. When Yates and Justin returned from the midday meal and informed her they hadn’t seen Karigan anywhere near the dining hall, she grew a little more concerned.
At two hour, she checked in with the captain, who agreed Karigan’s absence was unusual, but probably nothing to worry about.
“How much trouble can she get into on castle grounds?” the captain asked. Then they looked at one another, suddenly taking into account just who it was they were discussing. “Right,” said the captain. “Best begin looking for her.”
Mara sent Yates and Justin to search the stable and castle grounds. They trudged unhappily into the rain.
Mara decided to search the castle, though she realized it was an almost impossible task considering the size of the place.
As she stood inside the entry hall of the castle mulling over how to best proceed, she spotted the Weapon Fastion on his way in. He drew back his hood and shook the rain off his cloak. Even wet, the Weapon made an elegant form, all in black, each movement one of grace and economy. Others in the hall skirted around him. Perhaps it was the sense of mystery surrounding Weapons that caused people not to step too closely, although more likely it was the aura of razor-sharp danger they exuded.
Green Rider history might be shrouded in mystery, and they might conceal their special abilities, but Weapons lived as enigmas. Mara was convinced they liked it that way, but of course none would deign to show how pleased with themselves they were.
Some regarded Weapons as cultish, with their devotion to duty and their own kind. They were more properly titled “Black Shields,” but their skill in fighting was so deadly, so excellent and earnest, someone long ago had started calling them “Weapons,” and the name stuck. They were well known for swordmastery, but they killed just as effectively without a sword.
Fastion draped his cloak over his arm, and strode toward Mara, slicing through the crowded hall like a blade. He possessed a gaze that did not waver, yet encompassed everything. Mara had observed this with other Weapons—they watched for trouble without seeming to. Somehow Fastion had picked her out of the crowd, noticed her watching him, and sensed she wished to speak with him.
“Good day, Rider,” he said. “Is there something with which I can assist you?”
“I’m looking for Karigan.”
He blinked. Was that a flicker of surprise? “Is something wrong?”
“We must ensure the destruction of the wall,” one of the whisperers said.
No, Karigan wanted to say, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“The power is flowing from the breach. It has to be what’s behind all the strange occurrences.”
“Our time has come. It’s the sign we’ve been looking for.”
“—arising. The D’Yers will be dealt with if—”
“The Second Empire will—”
Karigan found herself unable to focus on the words, and the haze shadowed her vision further. There were others here, listeners who floated about the whisperers, veils of milky light that darted to and fro, above and around the group, which was quite unaware of them.
One of the listeners paused long enough to coalesce into a luminous man-shaped figure standing just outside the whisperer’s circle. It wielded a translucent sword, and ran it through one of the whisperers, but the whisperer did not fall, and did not even appear to feel the phantom blade. The listener lost shape and darted upward to hover above the group.
A strange dream, Karigan thought. Pulling her knees to her chest, she closed her eyes and sank into herself. So cold . . .
Journal of Hadriax el Fex
I grow weary with the passage of yet another year in these lands. Our stockade has grown into a large town, garrisoning the thousands of soldiers who have arrived from the Empire. The forest retreats ever northward as it is hewn to be shipped back as raw lumber to the Empire. The shore of the bay of Ull-um has become muddy and filthy with civilization, and the wildlife scarce. Even the fish are not as plentiful. Alessandros, however, is very proud of the settlement and calls it Alessanton after himself.
Alessandros’ plan to pit the Sacor Clans against one another has proven successful, averting their attention and weapons from us. And he has drawn four powerful clan chiefs to his side. They promise to be faithful servants, and Alessanaros promises in return a magnificent gift: unending life. How he will accomplish this, I am uncertain, but at the moment, he and his mages are focusing on creating a device that will augment their powers tenfold, so we might invade the Elt land of Argenthyne with success.
Alessandros says that he will do this to find the answers on how to heal Arcosia; that surely the Elt know the secret of how he can bring etherea across the ocean. He has always been taken by these people who appear to me as earthly angels, God’s chosen ones who stand to humble the rest of the lowly.
I am a soldier, but I fear this invasion. I fear battling what appear to me the earthly angels of God. Still, I promised Alessandros I would stand beside him no matter what comes. It brought tears to his eyes to hear it, and he told me he loves no one better.
FOLLOWING FOOTSTEPS
When the noon bell rang, Mara wondered idylly where Karigan had gotten to. After all, the captain’s errands shouldn’t have taken very long. Maybe she had stayed at the castle to take her midday meal in the dining hall, though it was unlike her not to report back immediately after the completion of an errand.
One hour soon came and went. When Yates and Justin returned from the midday meal and informed her they hadn’t seen Karigan anywhere near the dining hall, she grew a little more concerned.
At two hour, she checked in with the captain, who agreed Karigan’s absence was unusual, but probably nothing to worry about.
“How much trouble can she get into on castle grounds?” the captain asked. Then they looked at one another, suddenly taking into account just who it was they were discussing. “Right,” said the captain. “Best begin looking for her.”
Mara sent Yates and Justin to search the stable and castle grounds. They trudged unhappily into the rain.
Mara decided to search the castle, though she realized it was an almost impossible task considering the size of the place.
As she stood inside the entry hall of the castle mulling over how to best proceed, she spotted the Weapon Fastion on his way in. He drew back his hood and shook the rain off his cloak. Even wet, the Weapon made an elegant form, all in black, each movement one of grace and economy. Others in the hall skirted around him. Perhaps it was the sense of mystery surrounding Weapons that caused people not to step too closely, although more likely it was the aura of razor-sharp danger they exuded.
Green Rider history might be shrouded in mystery, and they might conceal their special abilities, but Weapons lived as enigmas. Mara was convinced they liked it that way, but of course none would deign to show how pleased with themselves they were.
Some regarded Weapons as cultish, with their devotion to duty and their own kind. They were more properly titled “Black Shields,” but their skill in fighting was so deadly, so excellent and earnest, someone long ago had started calling them “Weapons,” and the name stuck. They were well known for swordmastery, but they killed just as effectively without a sword.
Fastion draped his cloak over his arm, and strode toward Mara, slicing through the crowded hall like a blade. He possessed a gaze that did not waver, yet encompassed everything. Mara had observed this with other Weapons—they watched for trouble without seeming to. Somehow Fastion had picked her out of the crowd, noticed her watching him, and sensed she wished to speak with him.
“Good day, Rider,” he said. “Is there something with which I can assist you?”
“I’m looking for Karigan.”
He blinked. Was that a flicker of surprise? “Is something wrong?”
