Then Walker saw the girl. She sat in the deep shadows of the porch stoop, perfectly still, at one with the darkness. When his eyes settled on her, she rose at once and stood watching his approach with Hunter Predd. Revealed more clearly by the light of moon and stars, she became older, less a girl, more a young woman. She wore her silver hair long and loose, and it fell about her pale, thin face in thick waves. She was rail thin, so insubstantial it seemed as if a strong wind might blow her away completely. She wore a plain wool dress cinched at her tiny waist by a strip of braided cloth. Sandals that were dusty and worn were strapped to her feet, and an odd collar of metal and leather was clasped about her neck.
He came up to her and stopped, Hunter Predd at his side. She never took her eyes from his, never even glanced at the Wing Rider.
“Are you the one they call Walker?” she asked in a soft, high voice.
Walker nodded. “I am called that.”
“I am Ryer Ord Star. I have been waiting for you.”
Walker studied her curiously. “How did you know I was coming?”
“I saw you in a dream. We were flying far out over the Blue Divide in an airship. There were dark clouds all about, and thunder rolled across the skies. But within the dark clouds there was something darker still, and I was warning you to beware of it.” She paused. “When I had that dream, I knew you would be coming here and that when you did, I would be going with you.”
Walker hesitated. “I never intended to ask you to come with me, only to ask—”
“But I must come with you!” she insisted quickly, her hands making sudden, anxious gestures to emphasize her need. “There have been other dreams of you as well, more as time has passed. I am meant to go with you across the Blue Divide. It is my destiny to do so!”
She spoke with such conviction that Walker was momentarily taken aback. He glanced at Hunter Predd. Even the Wing Rider’s rugged face reflected surprise.
“See?” she inquired, gesturing down at a canvas bag that sat at her feet. “I am packed and ready to leave with you. I dreamed of you again last night, of your coming here. The dream was so strong it even told me when you would arrive. Such dreams do not come often, even to seers. They almost never come in such numbers. When they do, they must not be ignored. We are bound, you and I—our destinies intertwined in a way we cannot sever. What happens to one, happens to both.”
She regarded him solemnly, her thin, pale face questioning, as if she could not understand his inability to accept her words. Walker, for his part, was confounded by her determination.
“You apprenticed with the Addershag?” he inquired, turning the conversation another way. “Why did you leave?”
The thin hands gestured anew. “She was suspicious of what I was. She was distrustful of how I employed my gifts. I am a seer, but I am an empath, too. Both talents are strong within me, and I find the need to use them too compelling to ignore. On occasion, I used the one to alter the other, and the Addershag would scream at me. ‘Never do anything to change what is to be!’ she would shrill. But if I can take away another’s pain through divining the future, where is the harm? I saw nothing wrong in doing so. Such pain can be better borne by me than by most.”
Walker stared. “You read the future, determine that something bad will happen, then use your empathic skill to lessen the hurt that will result?” Walker tried to envision it and failed. “How often can you do this?”
“Only now and then. I can only do a little. Sometimes, the use of my gifts is reversed. Sometimes I come to those already in pain, see the future that pain will create, and act to change it. It is an imperfect skill, and I do not use it carelessly. But the Addershag distrusted my empathic side altogether, believing it affected my seer’s eyes. Perhaps she was right. The two are equal parts of me, and I cannot separate them out. Does this bother you?”
Walker didn’t know. What bothered him most was his own confusion over what to do with the girl. She seemed convinced she was going with him, while he was still struggling with whether he should consult with her at all.
“You are unsure of me,” she said. He nodded, seeing no reason to dissemble. “You have no reason to fear that I cannot do what is needed. You are a Druid, and a Druid’s instincts never lie. Trust what yours tell you about me.”
She took a step forward. “An empath can give you peace you can find in no other way. Give me your hand.”
He did so without thinking, and she took it in her own. Her hands were soft and warm, and they barely enclosed his. She ran her fingers slowly over his palm and closed her eyes. “You are in such pain, Walker,” she said. A tingling began that turned slowly to sleepy calm, then to a sudden, soaring euphoria. “You feel yourself beset on all sides, your chances slipping away from you, your burden almost too much to bear. You hate yourself for what you are because you believe it is wrong for you to be so. You conceal truths that will affect the lives of those who—”
He jerked his hand free and stepped back, shocked at how easily she had penetrated his heart. Her eyes opened and lit on him anew. “I could free you of so much of your pain if you would let me,” she whispered.
“No,” he replied. He felt himself naked and revealed in a way he didn’t care for. “The pain is a reminder of who I am.”
At his side, Hunter Predd stirred uneasily, a witness to words he shouldn’t hear. But Walker could do nothing about it now.
“Listen to me,” Ryer Ord Star intoned softly. “Listen to what I have seen in my dreams. You will make your voyage across the Blue Divide in search of something precious—more to you than to any who go with you. Those who accompany you will be both brave and strong of heart, but only some will return. One will save your life. One will try to take it. One will love you unconditionally. One will hate you with unmatched passion. One will lead you astray. One will bring you back again. I have seen all this in my dreams, and I am meant to see more. I am meant to be your eyes, Walker. We are bound as one. Take me with you. You must.”
Her small voice was filled with such passion that it left the Druid transfixed. He thought momentarily of the Addershag, of how black and twisted she had always seemed, her words sharp edged and threatening, her voice come out of a dark pit into which no one should venture. How different, then, was Ryer Ord Star? He could see how difficult it must have been for the girl to train at the feet of someone so different from herself. She must have struggled in her training and would have lasted as long as she did because of her passion for her gift. He could see that in her. Trust your instincts, she had urged him. He always did. But his instincts here were mixed and his conclusions uncertain.
“Take me with you,” she repeated, and her words were a whisper of need.
He did not look at Hunter Predd. He knew what he would find in the Wing Rider’s eyes. He did not even look into his own heart, because he could already feel what was lurking there. He read, instead, her face, to be certain he had missed nothing, and he gave counsel to his mission and his need. A seer was required for the dark places into which he must venture. Ryer Ord Star had the gift, and there was no time to seek it in another. That she was not the Addershag was troubling. That she was not only willing, but eager to go with him, was a gift he could not afford to spurn.
“Pick up your bag, Ryer Ord Star,” he said softly. “We fly tonight to Arborlon.”
16
Bek Rowe froze as the huge apparition swung away from the fleeing wolves to face them. Quentin took an involuntary step back, his earlier euphoria over the rediscovered magic of the Sword of Leah forgotten. Neither dared even to breathe as the thing before them rippled like windblown cedar limbs, a kind of shimmering movement that suggested an image cast on a rain-drenched window or a ghost imagined in a sudden change of light.