First Rider's Call
Page 74

Karigan shuddered involuntarily. “The wraith from the clearing?” She had avoided thinking about it, hoping the nightmare creature would simply evaporate into the ether.
“Who’s to say? I just want you to be aware that there are unexplained things going on, and to be watchful. I’ve already discussed this with Mara. With the king’s attention focused on D’Ivary, someone has to be paying attention to these oddities. Most people just see them as superstition, or isolated occurrences. I don’t.”
“I don’t think I do either,” Karigan said.
The captain put her hand on her shoulder and sighed, as if relieved by her support. “Maybe it only makes sense to those of us who use magic.”
Without another word, the captain strode away toward the door that led back into the castle. Karigan hesitated before following, taking in one more grand view of the countryside, wondering what force was at work out there.
Journal of Hadriax el Fex
It is long since I last wrote in this journal. The taking of Argenthyne was over a year ago. Many died in this campaign, even among our mages. Alessandros’ device, the Black Star, and our concussives overpowered the Elt.
Renald has grown into a fine young man, and saved several soldiers, including me, in the latest action, with much risk to himself. Alessandros awarded him a medal of valor, and I found a tear of pride in my eye for my young man. He has become like a son to me. There is talk he’ll be inducted into the elite Lion regiment. It would be a tremendous honor.
Meanwhile, Alessandros occupies himself with many things these days, such as examining his captives. He has taken a scientific interest in them, he says. Many escaped during the battle, including the queen, we presume, but there are enough left for Alessandros to do with as he wishes. He has left it to General Spurloche and the clan chieftain Varadgrim to begin the assault on the clan territories to bring them to heel once and for all. Alessanadros helps where he wishes. He drained the mirror lake the clans had so revered, and I find myself regretting its demise, for it was beautiful.
Our latest shipment of troops and supplies from the Empire is several months late. Perhaps they have run into foul weather.
FALLING OFF THE SIDE OF THE WORLD
Alton swiped his hand through his lank hair and paced back and forth alongside the wall like an angry catamount. Why wouldn’t the wall respond to him? Every time he tried to make contact, the magic was just out of reach, slipping through his fingers like a handful of water. For days now, he had spent most of his time at the wall, even the evening hours, trying to reach the voices that sang within rock, but he couldn’t hear them.
Instead, the wall towered above him in stolid quiescence. He sensed a tension about it. He snorted, thinking it had be his own tension at not making any progress. Then there was a restlessness that rolled over the breach from Blackveil. An intelligence that chilled him from the inside out.
He paused, gazing at the breach and the heavy gray mist hanging over the repairwork. The wall, he supposed, could not communicate with him because it was focused on other things. Maybe the wall and Blackveil were having a stand-off.
But wasn’t that what had been going on for centuries now? The wall had been built, after all, to hold back Blackveil, to prevent its spread into Sacoridia.
Something’s different, he thought. Blackveil is more . . . active.
His reverie was broken by his uncle calling to him. He turned to see his uncle wave and stride toward him with a servant bearing a picnic basket a step behind.
“It’s well past supper, my boy,” Landrew said, “and you missed the midday meal.”
Alton scratched his head. He had? Trying to remember, he found only that one day merged into the next. He was hungry, now that he thought about it, and the sun was steadily descending to the west. The servant spread a blanket on the ground and started setting out biscuits, cold chicken, slices of watermelon, and a bottle of his uncle’s wine, a Rhovan white.
“Sit and eat,” his uncle ordered. “I won’t have you collapsing from overwork.”
Alton obeyed, noting with some amusement from the corner of his eye, how Sergeant Uxton licked his lips when the servant withdrew a slab of blueberry pie. Alton smiled—he did not intend to share.
His uncle sat on the blanket joining him for a cup of wine.
“No luck today, eh?”
Alton shook his head, not missing his uncle’s flicker of disappointment. They remained silent as Alton polished off two plate-loads of chicken and biscuits, then dug into the pie. He almost laughed when Sergeant Uxton’s hopeful expression wilted.
Landrew swallowed the last of his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I suppose there is always tomorrow.”
“I plan to work more this evening. I am close to a breakthrough, I know I am.” Alton had said it with confidence he did not feel.
“You just take care of yourself,” Landrew said. “I’ve got one boy who won’t come near the wall, and one who won’t leave it.” He rolled his eyes.
The one blessing for Alton was that he’d hardly seen his cousin Pendric since their fight. Word was he went riding every morning to keep his distance from the encampment until sunset. From Alton’s glimpses of him, Pendric was unkempt, his hair a mess, his face unshaven, and his clothes unclean.
Sort of like me. Alton scraped at the bristles on his chin.
Landrew stood up and patted Alton on his shoulder. “We may not have answers yet, but we will soon. Your diligence is making me proud.”