Hold them together, Lil Ambrioth had told Karigan. The First Rider said she had the ability to bring the Riders together if only she would accept the responsibility. Karigan recognized that something more needed to be said, to give the Riders something to latch onto, to give them hope. She wasn’t sure if she had the words, but she knew it was time to accept the responsibility and try to say what was needed.
“Um . . .” It wasn’t an auspicious start, but it got their attention. She tried again. “Our job is filled with uncertainty every day. This is one more challenge, and who better to face it? We’ve got the use of magic, or at least had it, which means we’re the best ones to figure out how to overcome the problem. That’s our legacy. The Green Riders have preserved the use of magic since their creation, while it died out and disappeared among others.
“It may seem impossible, but we will figure this out. We have one another to rely on. We may not see each other often, but we are one in spirit. We will overcome this.”
She finished, slightly breathless, and in wonderment she had gotten the words out. The mood in the common room was palpably lighter, and the Riders chatted together in encouraging tones. She watched Tegan and Garth hug.
Mara leaned toward Karigan. “Thank you!”
Karigan was much relieved herself, and grinned when Tegan announced that with so many Riders assembled at once, it was only proper that they have a party. Her pronouncement was met with cheers of approval—if anything would relieve their tension over the dire situation placed on their shoulders, this was it.
Lynx angled his way through the other Riders to reach Karigan and Mara, the bowl of his pipe cupped in his hand.
“Well done,” he told them, and without waiting for a response, he turned about and wended his way out of the common room, the aromatic scent of tobacco trailing behind him.
“Well!” Mara said. “I get the feeling that’s about as huge a compliment we could ever expect from him.”
Karigan shrugged. The important thing was that the Riders had come together.
CROSSROADS
In the center of the crossroads stood a signpost of silvery weathered cedar. It gleamed against the backdrop of the night-dark forest. Hanging from each of its four arms, oriented north, south, east, and west, were shingles carved with the names of towns that would be found in the direction indicated.
The forest suffused the crossroads with its usual night clamor—a barred owl hooting, the grunts and clicks of frogs, the chirruping of crickets, but a wave of silence crept toward the crossroads and swept over it. One by one the forest voices faded and died until all that remained was the sound of the signpost’s shingles creaking in the wind.
A horseman emerged from the shadows of the forest and reined a pale horse to a halt beside the signpost. A second horse was led on a tether. The two horses did not show signs of panic or attempt to flee. Their small minds had been mastered to bear who they were commanded.
An unmounted figure emerged from the forest to the west, an ancient sword girded at its side and the chain of a manacle dangling from its wrist. In the silence, the two did not speak. They did not gesture to one another or communicate. The unmounted figure simply took the second horse and climbed spiderlike into the saddle.
The two reined their horses onto the road that headed east, where the creaking shingle on the signpost indicated Sacor City lay.
Journal of Hadriax el Fex
Alessandros’ grief and rage over the Empire’s abandonment of us has caused him to declare the New Lands his Empire. The Empire of Morhavonia. Though we who are loyal to Arcosia find this blasphemous and even interpretable as treason, we have no option but to accept it. We are trapped here, and Alessandros leads us. Besides, he was to succeed Arcos V. Who better to be our new Emperor?
Slaves from Kmaern and Deyer Clan have nearly completed his new palace in the old Elt stronghold. Always fed by his grief and anger at Arcos’ abandonment, he works on his experiments. I have recently witnessed the fruits of his labor. He used his transformative powers to change the laws of nature. He has transformed ordinary creatures into abominations. To a rat he gave snake skin, and he changed a gentle deer into a snarling, aggressive beast with fangs.
I told Alessandros that I feared this went against God, but he only chuckled and reassured me that, as Emperor, he was the earthly son of God, and therefore it was perfectly acceptable for him to use his God-given abilities thus. The priests who have spoken in outrage against these acts have been made examples of.
I try to spend time away from Alessandros and this madness when I can, but it is too treacherous to ride into the countryside, and he always wants me by his side. He tells me I am his only true friend. He fears others conspire against him, and regularly these “traitors” are rounded up by his personal guards and put to the stake.
I must be careful.
BLACKVEIL
Alton rolled the rotting log over, exposing all manner of beetles, worms, and grubs writhing in the moist soil. At the same time his stomach gurgled with hunger and heaved over in revulsion.
He had supped on these lowly creatures already, only to retch them up. He normally wouldn’t even consider it, but his weakening condition, coupled with his desire to find his way out of the forest, drove him to do what he detested. He needed his strength to win his way out.
He grabbed the end of a worm before it had a chance to dart all the way into the earth. It wriggled in his palm, and he swallowed back bile.
Don’t think about it. Just do it.
He dangled the worm above his mouth, closed his eyes, and dropped it in, swallowing before it could linger on his tongue, and fighting the impulse to hack it back up. He spat out the residue of dirt. On his very first try, he had learned to swallow whole after chewing left him with a mouthful of grit.