RIDING TO THE WALL
Laren quickly understood what had so disturbed
Zachary. People along the Winding Way had been caught,
unsuspecting, turned to stone as they went about simple, everyday
activities, activities that would never be completed. A man gazed
perpetually into a fishmonger’s window, his fingers cupped around
his chin as if he still deliberated the choice of fish displayed on
hooks and the prices posted for them. Two women leaned toward one
another as if sharing a secret, the laugh of one frozen in time.
Their lines and details were as true to life as Laren’s butterfly
had been, but their edges were hard and sharp, their visages cold
and gray.
A carter bore a sack over his shoulder, his stride
seemingly purposeful, but going nowhere. A boy gazed into the
street holding a ball over his head that would never be thrown . .
.
The Riders left the city in relief, but in the
countryside they found other disturbing evidence of magic gone
awry. Once-healthy crops lay blackened and withered in the fields,
and there were empty places where houses had once stood.
Laren rode at the head of a dozen Riders, her sword
slapping at her side. Through every village they rode, terrified
folk came up to her asking what the king was going to do to make
things right.
Laren had no answers, but reassured them as she
could.
The farther they traveled from Sacor City, the
quieter Karigan grew. She participated very little in campfire
banter, as though preoccupied, and during the night she babbled
nonsense in her sleep, or perhaps spoke in a tongue Laren did not
understand. Although her behavior wasn’t outlandish, it was
different enough for Laren to take note of and watch her
carefully.
More of an immediate concern was the discovery that
they were being followed. Laren glimpsed a mounted figure on the
edge of her vision, like a brief flash of white, but when she
turned in her saddle to look full on, he was gone, vanished into
the woods. Since the horseman did nothing to threaten them
directly, she did not bring up his presence to her Riders, not
wishing to alarm them unnecessarily. He seemed content to follow
and watch them. For now.
Their fourth day out, they came to some ancient
ruins, crumbling stone walls overgrown with vegetation. They
decided to take a midday break there. Most of the Riders fanned out
to sit in the shade and have a bite to eat.
Karigan, however, stood and gazed at the ruins.
Laren took a swig from her waterskin and watched her, noting the
glassy look in her eyes as if her mind traveled someplace very far
away. Her expression was difficult to interpret, as though a
thousand emotions moved within her.
Presently Laren joined her. “What do you see?” she
asked.
“Battle. Here the forces of Alessandros del
Mornhavon triumphed over insurrectionists who would not bend their
knees to the empire. Burning, children screaming, arrows, magical
fire . . .”
Laren drew her eyebrows together in concern.
“Karigan?”
Karigan shook herself, blinked, and turned to Laren
with a small smile on her face. “Yes, Captain?”
The transformation was startling. “Are you all
right? If you are feeling poorly, I could send you back—”
Karigan registered surprise. “I’m fine, Captain,
really. I don’t need to go back. Is that all?”
Laren nodded, and Karigan strolled over to a shade
tree and dropped down next to Dale, the two starting up an animated
conversation. It was as if nothing unusual had happened.
She returned to Bluebird where he grazed nearby,
and ran her hand along his neck.
“I hope you knew what you were doing when you
convinced us to go to the wall.”
Bluebird paused his grazing and raised his head to
gaze at her. Was it her imagination, or was his expression
sheepish? It certainly wasn’t reassuring.
That evening, Laren sat off by herself next to a
lantern, poring over maps of D’Yer Province and the wall. It had
been some time since she last traveled the region, and she wanted
to refamiliarize herself with it, especially the area near the
breach.
Tomorrow morning she was sending Tegan off to
Woodhaven, the seat of Lord-Governor D’Yer, to let him know what
the Riders were up to, and the state of affairs elsewhere.
Depending on how Tegan’s meeting with him went, she would either
return to Sacor City to report to the king, or catch up with the
Riders at the wall.
Laren looked up at the sound of approaching
footsteps, to find Ty heading over with a steaming mug in each
hand. “Tea,” he said.
Laren carefully took a mug. “Thank you.”
“Checking our route?” he asked, gazing down at the
map.
“It’s fairly straightforward, and I understand a
horse track has been cut all the way to the wall.”
“I’ve never been to the wall,” Ty said. “Seems
we’re usually bound for Woodhaven when there’s a message to deliver
in D’Yer Province.” He then hesitated. “Captain, would you mind if
I sit?”
“Not at all.” Laren gestured at the ground beside
her. In the yellow lantern light, she discerned an apprehensive
expression on the Rider’s face. “Something wrong?”
Ty set his mug aside as he made himself comfortable
on the ground. He glanced over his shoulder at the other Riders,
then said in a quiet voice, “It’s Karigan. She’s been acting a
little strange ever since we left the city, and I’m not the only
one to have noticed.”
“Oh?” Laren did not want to pass on her own
thoughts about Karigan, lest she add fuel to the flames of any
speculation on behalf of her Riders. She needed them to trust one
another. Somehow she was not surprised it was Ty who came forward.
He had been Karigan’s mentor, and likely still felt responsible for
her. His personality was also such that anything out of place
required being defined, and if possible, put back into place. It
made him a trifle unbending and strict, and for that reason alone,
she had never promoted him to Chief Rider or lieutenant, positions
that required flexibility.
“Just now,” Ty continued, “she was murmuring about
being abandoned. I could swear I saw a tear in her eye, and when I
asked her who abandoned us, she acted confused and didn’t seem to
understand what I was talking about.”
“I shouldn’t worry about it,” Laren said, despite
the fact that was precisely what she was doing.
“But—”
“We’ve all been under enormous strain of late.
We’ve lost Ephram and Alton, and barracks has burned. My mind
wanders, too.” Laren tried to sound reassuring, even as her own
concern escalated. “If you notice anything else that warrants my
attention, do bring it to me.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Now, let’s take a look at tomorrow’s route.”
The sky clouded over and it showered the following
morning. They rode off, spirits dampened as much as bedrolls, and
the usual conversation was stilled to silence. When Laren tired of
listening to the pitter-patter on her hood, she drew it back and
let the rain fall on her head. Doing so returned her side vision,
and she glimpsed the horseman.
A gray cloak had been thrown over white armor, and
he blended in well with the gloom and forest backdrop. When he
perceived her gaze, he vanished again into the woods.
Laren veered Bluebird around, and much to the
astonishment of her Riders, kicked him after the horseman. She
looked for any sign of him, and when she found nothing, she began
to wonder if he were an illusion. Then she saw the slight
depression of a hoofprint.
She sat there in the rain, staring into the woods.
He must be an Eletian. From what she knew, or thought she knew,
only Eletians could move so swiftly, and with so little
trace.
If so, why would an Eletian be tailing them?
Karigan rode through the mist and rain, fogged by
shadow like a dark hand in her mind—someone peering in, violating
all that should remain private. It was like living in a dream, her
attention drawn inward, reliving memories that were hers . . . and
were not. Terrible battles raged through her sleeping dreams, and
sometimes she awakened with such feelings of power, she thought she
could dash away the world with the sweep of her arm—all living
creatures, any structure created by the hands of humanity, all
traces of civilization.
And always, he was there in the falling
snow, goading her to come.
Yes, I am coming. Her reply,
involuntary.
As she rode, she thought she heard the muffled
sound of a horn trying to break through the clouds and murk, but it
was never enough.
Please help! she cried out, but all she
heard in return was, You will come.