The elf was in pain, but he rose to his feet in a fluid motion, a testament to his race. The square of a cobble had pressed a red mark into his face.
Fallon considered, rubbing his jaw. Anammelech had assured him that Fallon’s pursuers were as good as dead, but it was Anammelech who had departed the flesh. The blightlord’s killers were probably right behind him. While being caught by those who thought him a betrayer was an unsettling thought, he was more afraid of his apparent new status in Rawlinswood. He answered directly to the Rotting Man.
As Anammelech’s secret ear in the court of the Nentyarch, he was well rewarded. Other than his last act, the kidnapping of a child, he’d never taken any outright action that made him feel as if he was actively betraying the Nentyarch. With Anammelech’s death, his service had apparently passed directly into the Talontyr’s keeping. He wasn’t foolish enough to regard that status shift as a good thing. He didn’t know what would be asked of him next. More worrisome, he was pretty sure the Rotting Man cared not at all for Fallon’s safety.
Looking through the growth of the forest, he knew that his options were limited. He was in too deep. If he fled his commitment to the Rotting Man, he did not doubt that he’d turn up dead quick enough. Even if he did escape, the Nentyarch and his hunters would dispense their own justice, if they should find him. The only thing to do was soldier on. The pain in his head seemed to promise worse should he fail in that decision.
Fallon took the pony’s reins. The small horse’s eyes rolled in its sockets, but the child on its back had a calming influence on the beast. The little girl, about five years old, judged the elf, sat her saddle quietly, oblivious to her state and surroundings.
Fallon said, “You’ve brought me a lot of trouble, girl.” No response. He’d expected none. He wondered if he could get some sort of reaction out of his captive.
“Lucky I don’t have your skin for a cloak. That’s probably what the Rotting Man has in store for you.”
The calm blink she treated him with belied any discomfiture the child might be feeling. He shrugged. The girl was damaged, despite everyone’s interest in her. He hoped her state was known to the Talontyrhe didn’t want to be blamed for her shortcomings. Still, he couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit sorry for the little tyke…
He hastily put that thought from his mind. Down that road lay a quantity of self-recrimination that Fallon was not prepared to accept. Considering the consequences of his actions on others was something for which he knew he didn’t have the moral fortitude.
Fallon led the pony and its rider along the evaporating lane. He hadn’t seen a stone arch for the last several hundred feet, and cobblestones were few and far between. He might as well have been walking through native forest.
The barrow was visible ahead. Brown grass covered it, though bare patches of earth showed through in many places. Only his “gift” of knowledge from the Talontyr alerted him to the mound’s significance.
He moved to the edge of the earthen heap, raised one hand and inscribed a sign on the air, according to his special instructions. By the time he finished tracing the sigil, the lines he’d imagined solidified to visibility in the air.
“Huh,” he commented, surprised.
The sign, a complex figure featuring a star inscribed within the circumference of a circle, pulsed though the color spectrum, beginning then ending in coal black. Without further fanfare, the floating symbol fell on the face of the mound, enlarging in size as it fell, so that the diameter of the figure easily reached ten feet across as it impacted the earth. The figure melted away, but as it did so, the earth framed within the circle did likewise.
An earthen staircase descended downward, the steps small and cramped, the angle steep. A rush of stale, dusty air plumed from the opening, blowing back Fallon’s hair.
He nodded appreciatively at the entrance’s appearance then frowned.
Fallon lifted Ash from her saddle, setting her on her feet. He said to the small horse, “You’ve reached the end of your use, damn the luck.”
Fallon pulled his sword free, deciding to tie up a loose end. The pony continued to stand peacefully without moving.
At the last moment, he held back with his intended thrust. Too much thinking about consequences, damn him. Ash’s mount fixed the former Nentyar hunter with his gaze then dashed away up the lane.
Surprised at his softness, he decided that running down the horse would only cost time that he probably couldn’t afford. Maybe the discovery of the horse without its passenger would worry his pursuers, and give him a little more time. The drumbeat of pain from the image implanted in his head by the Rotting Man seemed to be growing, and he didn’t want complications.
Fallon sighed as he unstowed the hooded lantern he had brought with him out of Yeshelmaar. Its fanciful designs of leaf and bough reminded him again of what was behind him. He carefully filled the reservoir with clear oil all the same.
Taking the girl’s hand, he and the Child of Light descended into the Barrow of the Queen Abiding.
CHAPTER 18
Marrec blinked. Surprised, he blinked again. The pain was gone, the physical pain, anyway. Anguish lay like a canker on his conscience, ready to bite with too thorough an exploration.
Someone spoke. He was too numb to understand what was said, but it sounded like a woman’s voice.
Marrec tried to focus his vision. At his feet was a banked campf ire within a circle of stones. He recognized the stones as cobbles dug up from the lane he’d been traversing when Anammelech had caught them…
He groaned, bringing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He rubbed, too vigorously, and saw stars. He didn’t care. He’d rub his eyes out of their sockets if he could.
Hands, small but strong, grasped his wrists. He let the hands, soft, draw his own hands away from his eyes. It was the mage, pale, ragged, but alive.
“Ususi!” Despite his resolve, his spirits rose a fraction. “I thought the blightlord killed you.”
“He nearly did. He would have finished the job, but you must have stopped him. The others tell me you rescued me, carrying me like a child.”
Marrec shook his head, saying “I don’t remember what happened after I killed Anammelech.”
“How did you manage it? He had a power in him unlike any that I’ve ever faced. I feared both our tales were at a close.”
Marrec looked grim.
“Why the frown, Marrec?” asked Ususi. “It was him or me, and I like to think I was the better choice.” Ususi bent forward and delivered a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
Though Marrec struggled mightily, the gloom in which he wrapped himself lightened by a measure. He muttered, “You’re welcome.”
Ususi smiled. “Now, get up. Elowen and Gunggari are anxious to be off after Fallon and Ash. That betrayer can’t be too far ahead.” Looking past the mage, he saw the two Ususi named making preparations to leave. Didn’t they understand that his vow had been broken? Then again, how could they know?
But Ash’s name galvanized him. Maybe he was nothing but a sham of a person, hiding a monstrous heart and a terrible ability, but that person could still try to do good.
“Get up,” repeated Ususi, impatient then. “You’re not even hurt as badly as me.”
That was more like the woman he remembered. Marrec pulled himself to his feet. He said, “I intend to find Ash, but I want to tell you something first. Back there, I thought Anammelech had ended you. I thought hope was lost for me, too. In desperation, I had to break a promise I’d made long ago… I called up something in myself that is monstrous.”
Ususi narrowed her eyes, looking a question at Marrec.
Marrec couldn’t bring himself to say more.
Ususi said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and perhaps I do not want to know. We all have secrets, you know, but listen. You are the man your actions make you, nothing more, nothing less, and I don’t see a monster standing before me.”