First Rider's Call
Page 85

“Me? But how can—”
Lil cut her off with some ancient and exasperated invocation to the gods requesting patience. To begin with, talk to them.
“What am I supposed to tell them? I don’t know any more than they do.”
You do know more. If a submerged apparition in the bottom of a bucket could look annoyed and impatient, Lil had certainly achieved the effect.
You spoke with an Eletian, and you reported his words to your king. He spoke to you of the breach stirring powers on both sides of the wall, and that the warning was before you.
Karigan recalled a stone funerary slab in a flooded tomb. Only it wasn’t a tomb, but a prison. A wraith had broken its chains and arisen to walk the world again. Powers were stirring . . . Powers, magic. And finally she made the connection.
“You’re telling me that the breach is causing . . .” She dropped her voice into a whisper. “. . . my ability to fail?”
Yes, among other things that have gone awry. Magic is out of kilter.
“But how?” “But how?”
My time is too brief to explain it all. The door will close at any moment. For now you must hold the Riders together.
“You put this on me, but you won’t explain it to me?” Karigan licked her lips. “Why do you keep coming to me? Why do you think I can do as you ask?”
A bit of hay drifted over Lil’s face. You are a Rider, and that should be enough, but I see it is not. You are a Rider because you have intense loyalty to your country and your king, and an innate gift of magic. This is true of all Riders, but you’ve also the ability to bring them together, if only you would accept the responsibility.
“I never even wanted to be a Rider.”
Ta! Such a stubborn girl. You would not have answered the call if it wasn’t in your spirit.
“That doesn’t explain why you keep haunting me. Mara could do as you ask.”
Lil’s head turned, as though she were checking over her shoulder. The door begins to close.
“Explain it to me now!”
The First Rider sighed. We share the brooch.
Karigan blinked, startled. “You mean—?”
Lil nodded. Made for me, it was.
It was too incredible to believe, thought Karigan, that she should wear the same brooch the First Rider had once worn. The weight of history, the very idea of it, sent shivers down her spine.
This is why I come to you, hey? We are linked, you and I. And there is much struggle ahead. The Riders must be ready. There is something else important . . .
Karigan found herself lowering her face deeper into the bucket as if to ensure she didn’t miss a word.
You are of interest to the darkness in Blackveil. Shield yourself well, keep your wits about you. Lil’s voice and face began to fade. The darkness seeks you . . .
And she was gone.
Released by the power that had held her, Karigan grabbed the bucket and shook it vigorously. “What do you mean it seeks me?” she shouted. “Why is the darkness interested in me?”
But the green glow was gone, and there was no reply. She had only managed to churn up the water and cause the dead flies to whirl in circles.
Condor nosed her aside so he could get a drink, and a dazed Karigan looked up only to find Hep and Mara staring at her in astonishment from across the stall door.
“Are ya well?” Hep asked, his eyes wide.
“Um . . .”
Mara raised an eyebrow.
“Mara, we need to talk.”
“I was going to suggest the very same thing.”
The two Riders stepped outside and leaned against the paddock rails. The late afternoon sunshine felt good to Karigan—it seemed to chase away the shadows of apparitions and madness. All was tranquil, the late afternoon light glowing a bright yellow-green on the tips of grasses. There was a soft drone of bees visiting clover and lighting on the yellow and white asters that grew so prolifically in these waning days of summer.
Karigan told Mara everything, about how her ability had failed during the groundmite attack on Lady Penburn’s delegation, the details of her “traveling” through the abandoned corridors, and even spoke of Lil Ambrioth’s visitations.
She did not hold back as she had with Captain Mapstone. She now knew there was something much bigger going on than simply her own problems. She would not make the same mistake with Mara as she had with the captain: she would not hide the truth.
Mara took it all in calmly, interrupting only to ask for occasional clarification.
By the time Karigan finished, her throat was dry and the sun much lower, but she was glad to have it out. She no longer had to hide her madness; it was no longer her burden to bear alone.
Mara squinted as she gazed across the paddock. She twisted a curl of hair around her forefinger, and it was a while before she spoke.
“It’s going to take time for me to absorb all this,” she said. “I’ve heard bits and pieces from both you and the captain, but I had no idea of the extent of the situation. Some of our Riders haven’t been themselves lately, and I guess I now know why.”
She then glanced at Karigan and smiled. “The First Rider, eh? I guess there could be worse ghosts to meet.”
“I wear her brooch.” The smooth gold was cool beneath her fingers. “The very same one she once wore.”
Mara nodded, seeming to be in less disbelief than Karigan. “All our brooches once belonged to a member of the original Green Riders. It only makes sense that the First Rider’s would be one of them.” Mara plucked a tall daisy and twirled it between her fingers. “I think your idea of a meeting is a good one. Maybe by sharing any problems we’ve experienced, instead of hiding them as personal failures, we might have a better chance of figuring out what to do.”