Blackveil (65 page)
There was smoke.
The valley bloomed with gold and orange fire, smoke pluming into the sky—or was it just the mist of Blackveil’s present?
Screams of the past came to her even as some creature in the present screeched. Ghostly figures ran up the stairs onto the terrace, which appeared as pristine as if the stone had just been laid, and yet, in the doubling of her vision, it was blanketed by the taint of time and neglect.
The people ran in terror, crying, carrying children, shepherding and supporting the wounded. Eletians.
Who else would it be? This was Argenthyne. And it was Blackveil.
Hulking figures swarmed the terrace after them, their guttural war cries assaulted Karigan’s ears. Arrows flew from their bows. Eletians fell. The groundmites gave chase like a pack of feral dogs driven mad by the scent of blood.
Others—not groundmites, but men—climbed up the terrace at a more leisurely pace behind them. Karigan recognized the crimson and black uniforms of the Arcosians and among them was a power. She could feel it emanate from
him
from across the ages. He was black cloaked and black hooded.
him
from across the ages. He was black cloaked and black hooded.
Peripherally she heard Lhean calling to her. He sounded so far away.
The one with power looked at her,
saw
her. He lowered his hood, watched her with eyes blackened by wild magic. His striking face with its strong cheekbones and chin, the curl of raven hair.
Mornhavon.
saw
her. He lowered his hood, watched her with eyes blackened by wild magic. His striking face with its strong cheekbones and chin, the curl of raven hair.
Mornhavon.
She would know him anywhere. She had borne his consciousness in her body across time, and that power—it was like a wall slamming into her.
Others began calling for her, telling her to come back . . .
Mornhavon smiled. Reached toward her with his crimson-gloved hand.
The cramping of her brooch turned into a dagger twist. She cried, fell to her knees, and her moonstone rolled from her grasp. The light died and Karigan was absorbed into the darkness of her mind.
A tumult of voices penetrated the dark.
“What in five hells just happened?” Grant demanded.
“A piece of time,” Graelalea replied.
“She nearly crossed into it,” Spiney added.
Karigan kept her eyes closed.
Not again.
It was not the first time she had surpassed the ages, but she’d had wild magic running in her veins then, and now it was supposed to be gone from her.
How?
she wondered.
Not again.
It was not the first time she had surpassed the ages, but she’d had wild magic running in her veins then, and now it was supposed to be gone from her.
How?
she wondered.
“How could she do such a thing?” Ard asked, echoing her thought. “It’s mad.”
A vision of light came to Karigan, and of lips murmuring,
You cross thresholds.
It blurred away as quickly as it had come.
You cross thresholds.
It blurred away as quickly as it had come.
“I cannot say,” Graelalea replied. There was a note in her voice, barely perceived, that Karigan took to mean that Graelalea knew very well how such a thing could happen, but she was not allowed or able to say more, or simply did not wish to.
Figures,
Karigan thought. There were never firm answers where Eletians were concerned. There were no absolutes in their world. A terrible headache pounded at her temple, and she was so very cold. Just like the last time she’d traveled.
Karigan thought. There were never firm answers where Eletians were concerned. There were no absolutes in their world. A terrible headache pounded at her temple, and she was so very cold. Just like the last time she’d traveled.
She squirmed, realizing her head was cradled in someone’s lap. She squinted her eyes open and saw Yates’ concerned face over hers.
“Karigan?”
“I’m fine.” her voice sounded dull to herself. “Just cold.”
“Stoke up the fire,” Graelalea told someone, “and bring blankets.” She spoke rapidly in Eletian, then knelt beside Karigan. “You were caught between the two times. If you’d crossed over, I am not sure you could have come back.”
“Mornhavon was there. He reached for me.”
Graelalea sat back, her eyes wide and frightened. “Then we came closer to losing you than I thought.”
Karigan felt Yates go rigid. “What were you doing mucking about with Mornhavon?” His words came as a shout.
“I wasn’t doing anything. It just happened.”
“The piece of time is only supposed to allow one to view a moment,” Graelalea murmured. “But you who have crossed through the layers of the world before should be more wary.”
Karigan wanted to protest, but she was just too tired. Graelalea then pressed a cool sphere into her hand and light flickered. Her moonstone.
“You do not want to lose this,” the Eletian said quietly.
Karigan was bundled in blankets and helped to the fireside. She shuddered as she looked into the flames.
“What is it?” Yates asked.
“I saw the people who lived here running for their lives from groundmites. The valley was burning.”
Graelalea knelt down beside her. “Yes. It was the way many settlements ended when Mornhavon invaded Argenthyne. Here.” She handed Karigan a silver flask. “A couple of sips and you should feel much better.”
It was a warming cordial that flooded her veins to her very toes and fingertips, chasing away the chill brought on by the passage through vast amounts of time. After her second sip, she felt much more herself, the headache miraculously gone, though the traveling had left a dark imprint in her mind.
“Thank you,” she said, returning the flask to Graelalea.
“You faded out,” Yates told her. “You were a ... a ghost. And we could see faint images moving around you, like the mist taking shape. And the light your moonstone raised—I still can’t see right.” He rubbed his eyes.
Karigan just gazed into the fire unable to speak, overwhelmed by it all. She’d seen the destruction of Telavalieth centuries ago, and Mornhavon.
Someone stood between her and the fire. Karigan looked up. it was Spiney. He squinted down at her as if trying to see
into
her. “There are those in Eletia who believe you are dangerous,” he said. “They are not mistaken.” He turned abruptly on his heel and walked away.
into
her. “There are those in Eletia who believe you are dangerous,” he said. “They are not mistaken.” He turned abruptly on his heel and walked away.
He was not the only one giving her odd looks. From across the fire, Ard studied her while absently whittling a stick. When he realized she’d caught him watching, he averted his gaze.
“Rider,” Grant said, “I’ll take the rest of your watch. You should probably rest after whatever the hells that was.”
With the dark rings beneath his eyes and the hollowness to his cheeks, Karigan did not think she was the one requiring rest, but she did not argue. She slipped into her tent, relieved just to escape the scrutiny of her companions.
TELAVALIETH
M
ornhavon the Black had climbed these very stairs. Karigan had seen it. She’d been there. He’d stepped onto the terrace and reached for her. Even in the dawn of the morning after, as she gazed down at the stairway that descended into the fog of the valley, the incident was still so real, so present, she could almost feel Mornhavon’s touch on her flesh. She shuddered.
ornhavon the Black had climbed these very stairs. Karigan had seen it. She’d been there. He’d stepped onto the terrace and reached for her. Even in the dawn of the morning after, as she gazed down at the stairway that descended into the fog of the valley, the incident was still so real, so present, she could almost feel Mornhavon’s touch on her flesh. She shuddered.
With one last glance at the moondial, she followed Yates down the stairs, backtracking Mornhavon’s own footsteps.
Blackveil was as dismal this day as those preceding it, but it darkened even more as they left the high ground and entered the fog of the valley. The stones that made the steps were either naturally level or hand carved, but covered with the sopping mosses and lichens that made everything so slick. Some rattled when stepped upon. A few were missing entirely, lost somewhere down the slope, forcing the company to scramble to the next solid step, their feet sending loose scree cascading into the valley.
There were several switchbacks, but the continual descent made Karigan’s knees ache, so she relied on her bonewood staff to buffer the impact of each downward step she took.
Yates stumbled ahead of her.
“You all right?” she asked him.
He only grunted in response.
Karigan thought about lending him her staff when he paused a few times as if to gauge how to proceed to the next step. He’d then continue, but tentatively, clinging to trees as he went down, or leaning into boulders alongside the stairway. His hesitation caused some grumbling from those waiting behind.
As they neared the bottom, the fog created a false dusk, but Karigan perceived a change in the terrain. The stairs meandered through a field of vast boulders, which must have tumbled down the slope in some long ago time, for they were well settled and blanketed by deep moss. Ferns the size of small trees protruded between the boulders, their blotched and blackened leaflets sutured together with the strands of spiderwebs. Wiry beards of lichen draped down from the branches above, which those ahead slashed out of their path. It was as if they entered an ever more primeval world.
“Thank the gods,” Yates muttered when they finally reached level ground. Karigan was relieved herself.
Graelalea did not pause to give them a rest, however. They continued along a path that was more mud and ooze than anything else, the ferns rising around them like a forest. Soon they came to a sludgy stream and followed its bank for a while. Pitcher plants grew alongside it, but not the normal sized, diminutive ones Karigan was accustomed to. These, like the ferns, were oversized vessels the size of wine casks.
One of the pitcher plants quivered. The hind legs of some mammal, like a hare, kicked over the lips of the carnivorous plant, unable to free itself. Karigan looked away, sickened.
“You know,” Ard said, “it all sort of works.”
“What does?” she asked.
“The forest. It is in balance with itself, the predators and the prey. Even the plants have adapted to it.”
“You’re saying the forest is healthy?”
“It’s a twisted place for certain,” Ard replied, “yet it is in balance with itself. Perhaps in time it would come to resemble more of what we’re familiar with on our side of the wall.”
As long as Mornhavon doesn’t come back,
Karigan thought.
Karigan thought.
“The balance is wrong on both sides of the wall,” Spiney said from the end of the line. “All the etherea trapped here, and barely any on the other side. This is not balance.”
“What d’ya want then?” Ard asked acerbically. “To knock down the wall?”
They waited for Spiney’s answer. Karigan knew it was exactly what some Eletians wanted, possibly including Spiney, who had once tried to kill her for, in his opinion, interfering with the wall. The Eletian, however, did not respond.
Graelalea halted, and before them was a delicate span that crossed the stream. To Karigan’s eyes the arch was almost paper thin, entirely unlike any other bridge she’d ever seen, without voissoires or keystone, without spandrel or abutment walls, just the treadway, impossible and eloquent in its simplicity. It was carpeted and draped with moss so it was impossible to see how it was made, but if it was stone, it surpassed even the legendary craft of the D’Yers.
“Telavalieth lies across the stream,” Graelalea said. “Or what remains of it.” Without another word, she stepped onto the bridge.
Karigan expected the bridge, fragile as it looked and subject to the ravages of centuries, to collapse, but it did not. The rest of them followed, and when Karigan reached the apex of the arch, she was glad the bridge still stood, for she would not have liked crossing through the stream. It was murky and stank of rot, and several glistening snakelike
somethings
slurped in the stagnant water. She hastened the rest of the way to the opposite bank.
somethings
slurped in the stagnant water. She hastened the rest of the way to the opposite bank.
“What do you suppose that was in the water?” she whispered to Yates.
“I didn’t see anything,” he replied with a frown.
They trudged onward and soon Karigan discerned an opening before them, a lighter shade of gray. The Eletians took off at a run. The Sacoridians hesitated for but a moment, then pursued the Eletians. When they reached a clearing they halted. It was as if something had come in and scraped the forest floor to its bedrock. Nothing grew there, not even the pervasive moss and lichens, even though the clearing did not look recent. In fact, the rock was smooth as though melted and fused. What kind of power could do that to granite?
On the edges of the clearing stood crumbling buildings wrapped in tree roots as if the very trees were intent upon crushing them little by little over the passage of years.
“Gods,” Ard muttered.
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