First Rider's Call (40 page)

“Karigan has quite a tale to tell, which includes difficulty with her ability, and the broader problems. Karigan?”

She squirmed in her chair as everyone’s attention shifted from Mara to her. Panic beat in her chest at the idea of having to reveal so much to so many others.

Mara nudged her foot under the table.

She licked her lips. It had to be done; she had to stop hiding things, but deep down, she feared they’d only confirm her madness.

As she told her tale, just as she had told Mara the day before, the common room quieted. The sounds from outdoors—birdsong, soldiers riding by in formation, the ringing of three hour—all seemed to be happening in some other realm.

The Riders listened to her with wonder and incredulity registering on their faces. When she finished speaking of Lil Ambrioth, she was met with utter silence.

And then the babble erupted all at once, everyone demanding to have questions answered. Mara tried to answer, but she was drowned put by the commotion.

“Quiet!”
Garth thundered.

Everyone did, and Mara passed him a smile of appreciation. “One question at a time, please,” she said.

“What about the First Rider?” Ephram asked. “I find that far-fetched.”

Karigan couldn’t answer him. His words were like a pronouncement of her insanity.

“As I recall, Ephram,” Dale said, “you were not yet with us two years ago during Prince Amilton’s coup attempt. I was. I fought at the Battle of the Lost Lake. Karigan was there, too, struggling against the Eletian, with ghosts battling all around them. I think I even saw Lil Ambrioth there among them, though it could have been wishful thinking. I at least heard her horn.” Others who had been there voiced their agreement.

“During Karigan’s journey here that spring, she was aided by ghosts, including the spirit of F’ryan Coblebay, who in life had been a good friend of mine. If Karigan says she’s been talking with the First Rider, then I believe her.” Several Riders backed her with words of affirmation.

“Sorry if I’m a bit skeptical,” Ephram said.

Karigan, grateful for Dale’s words of confidence, said, “I hardly believe it myself, but the point of the matter is that something is going on with magic, and it’s not just us. It’s those other things, too; the stone deer and the rainbows.

“The words of the First Rider only confirm what the Eletian, Telagioth, told me. Powers are stirring, and there is trouble arising in Blackveil. No doubt this is the source of our problems, but exactly how or why it’s affecting us on this side of the wall, I don’t know. Magic has been kept hidden for so many years, who
would
know?”

The bright sunshine and birdsong flowing through the windows were counterpoint to her words.

“Has any message come from Alton?” Ty asked.

“No,” Mara said. “None at all.”

Karigan turned her thoughts to Alton, wondering how he fared, what he was doing . . . Had he made any progress with the wall? Just because they hadn’t heard any news didn’t mean anything bad. It just meant there was nothing to report. Still, it didn’t sit well with her that he was there at the breach if Blackveil was, in truth, arising. He would be directly in the path of danger.

She missed several comments and questions being tossed about among the Riders as she considered Alton’s well-being, until Yates spoke.

“What is King Zachary doing about this?”

“At present,” Mara said, “nothing.”

Some of the Riders cried out in dismay.

“Nothing?” Yates said.

When it appeared Mara was at a loss as to how to respond, Karigan said, “How can he do anything against magic? It’s not something like—like a land dispute that can be easily solved. This is something completely new and unknown. He
did
send Alton to the wall, and Alton
is
trying to fix the breach, and that’s something. The king, he—he is—” She stumbled to an ungainly stop when she realized how ardent her defense of him sounded.

She cleared her throat. “I guess it’s, um, up to us to find the answers the king needs so he can do something about it.” The room felt entirely too warm despite all the open windows. She clamped her mouth shut, hoping to keep it that way for the remainder of the meeting.

Mara flashed her a smile that was laden with a little too much smugness for Karigan’s comfort.

“So, we are back at the beginning,” Mara said, “with out answers, but at least we’re aware. I want everyone to be more careful than ever, especially when it comes to using your abilities. If they work, that is. Report back to me and the king anything strange—anything at all—you encounter while out on your errands.”

An uneasy silence followed. It had been a meeting with no conclusions made, no problems solved. There was a threat that remained largely undefined; a threat on a personal level, and one that also encompassed the kingdom. It was a threat none of them could quantify. It had taken down their captain. Who was next? What would the arising of Blackveil portend?

Hold them together,
Lil Ambrioth had told Karigan. The First Rider said she had the ability to bring the Riders together if only she would accept the responsibility. Karigan recognized that something more needed to be said, to give the Riders something to latch onto, to give them hope. She wasn’t sure if she had the words, but she knew it was time to accept the responsibility and try to say what was needed.

“Um . . .” It wasn’t an auspicious start, but it got their attention. She tried again. “Our job is filled with uncertainty every day. This is one more challenge, and who better to face it? We’ve got the use of magic, or at least had it, which means we’re the best ones to figure out how to overcome the problem. That’s our legacy. The Green Riders have preserved the use of magic since their creation, while it died out and disappeared among others.

“It may seem impossible, but we will figure this out. We have one another to rely on. We may not see each other often, but we are one in spirit. We will overcome this.”

She finished, slightly breathless, and in wonderment she had gotten the words out. The mood in the common room was palpably lighter, and the Riders chatted together in encouraging tones. She watched Tegan and Garth hug.

Mara leaned toward Karigan. “Thank you!”

Karigan was much relieved herself, and grinned when Tegan announced that with so many Riders assembled at once, it was only proper that they have a party. Her pronouncement was met with cheers of approval—if anything would relieve their tension over the dire situation placed on their shoulders, this was it.

Lynx angled his way through the other Riders to reach Karigan and Mara, the bowl of his pipe cupped in his hand.

“Well done,” he told them, and without waiting for a response, he turned about and wended his way out of the common room, the aromatic scent of tobacco trailing behind him.

“Well!” Mara said. “I get the feeling that’s about as huge a compliment we could ever expect from him.”

Karigan shrugged. The important thing was that the Riders had come together.

CROSSROADS

In the center of the crossroads stood a signpost of silvery weathered cedar. It gleamed against the backdrop of the night-dark forest. Hanging from each of its four arms, oriented north, south, east, and west, were shingles carved with the names of towns that would be found in the direction indicated.

The forest suffused the crossroads with its usual night clamor—a barred owl hooting, the grunts and clicks of frogs, the chirruping of crickets, but a wave of silence crept toward the crossroads and swept over it. One by one the forest voices faded and died until all that remained was the sound of the signpost’s shingles creaking in the wind.

A horseman emerged from the shadows of the forest and reined a pale horse to a halt beside the signpost. A second horse was led on a tether. The two horses did not show signs of panic or attempt to flee. Their small minds had been mastered to bear who they were commanded.

An unmounted figure emerged from the forest to the west, an ancient sword girded at its side and the chain of a manacle dangling from its wrist. In the silence, the two did not speak. They did not gesture to one another or communicate. The unmounted figure simply took the second horse and climbed spiderlike into the saddle.

The two reined their horses onto the road that headed east, where the creaking shingle on the signpost indicated Sacor City lay.

BLACKVEIL

Alton rolled the rotting log over, exposing all manner of beetles, worms, and grubs writhing in the moist soil. At the same time his stomach gurgled with hunger and heaved over in revulsion.

He had supped on these lowly creatures already, only to retch them up. He normally wouldn’t even consider it, but his weakening condition, coupled with his desire to find his way out of the forest, drove him to do what he detested. He needed his strength to win his way out.

He grabbed the end of a worm before it had a chance to dart all the way into the earth. It wriggled in his palm, and he swallowed back bile.

He dangled the worm above his mouth, closed his eyes, and dropped it in, swallowing before it could linger on his tongue, and fighting the impulse to hack it back up. He spat out the residue of dirt. On his very first try, he had learned to swallow whole after chewing left him with a mouthful of grit.

It was almost as if he could feel the worm crawling down his throat and winding through his innards. He gagged again, but miraculously the worm didn’t come up this time.

The effort had cost him. He was exhausted, and one worm would not dispel his weakness. Water was easy enough to come by here due to frequent rain, and the forest was constantly clouded by a liquid haze that slimed his skin. He sipped water off leaves. It was acrid, but had failed to poison him thus far.

He didn’t trust the murky pools and streams he had come across, nor did he chance eating any of the black berries growing on thorny stems. There were mushrooms growing everywhere in the decay of the forest floor, but he lacked the knowledge of how to tell the safe ones from the poisonous ones. He suspected few, if any, were without some taint in this forest.

Alton slicked his hair back, wincing at the tender bump on his head. He could not remember exactly what had happened, or when. He remembered standing atop the breach, then nothing. When he awakened to this nightmare, it took time for him to remember who and what he was, and he’d been very ill and disoriented from the head blow.