“Karon!” I screamed over the tumult.
Karon, the wind whipping his bloody tunic about him, turned and saw what was happening. He closed his eyes and swept his arms around and upward, a surge of power holding back the deluge long enough for Gerick to catch up with us. As we moved forward again, Karon kept Gerick at his side, using his own body to shield Gerick from the horrors that escaped his enchantments.
The struggle was more than physical. Hour after hour, I heard Karon talking, encouraging, battling. “Hold, my son. No, this is not your place… I’ll not leave you. Don’t listen. Surely the enchantments of this place fear you because someday you will have power over them. They smell it in you and wish to make you afraid…”
Soon every step required a monstrous effort. We trudged through a hideous stew of stinking mud and pale, solid objects that looked like parts of bodies or beasts. We were shivering and nauseated, battered and bleeding, our cocoon becoming very thin.
“The Lords hound you so sorely because they know they have failed,” Karon gasped, as he helped Gerick across a roaring river of black water. “You held back a part of yourself, and they didn’t think you could. You are stronger- much stronger-than they believed… Take whatever you need of me. They cannot follow us here. They cannot touch you here. Endure and you will be free. I swear it upon my life. You will be free of them…”
As the hours passed, my arms grew too heavy to lift, and so my only defense against a hail of burning rocks was to turn and let them hit my back. Paulo’s grin had long faded, and even Karon’s voice fell silent as bitter rain lashed our raw skin.
Gerick stumbled. Half bent forward, holding his head, he gave an agonized cry and crumpled into the morass.
“Keep moving,” said Karon in a hoarse whisper, as he gathered Gerick into his arms and staggered onward. “She’s out there. But if I stop… can’t find her… can’t hear…”
I didn’t understand him. A shivering Paulo and I clung to each other, supported, dragged, and prodded each other to take each step. We dared not lose sight of Karon through the murk.
My thoughts slipped into villainous dreaming: of the sewing women, of the slave pen, of Ziddari’s blood-red eyes watching my husband burn. The vicious screams of the crowd, the stench as the flames consumed his mutilated body… all seemed as real as the day I lived them. Then Gerick was burning in the marketplace… No, no, I cried, you have been beloved from the day we knew you… And the executioner’s fire became the flames of the Gate-fire where Giano the Zhid had dragged me into madness to force the Prince of Avonar to destroy the Bridge.
On that terrible, glorious day, Karon had called me back to him, over and over again. Seri, love… stay close… come back… On this day, I heard him again, so clearly above the tumult. The voice from the vision of my past. Frayed. Worried. At the limit of his endurance. Almost there… soon, love… hold on…
All of them lost…Tears flowed and merged with the hot rivers of blood and fire, and I was alone again… dead again… empty again…
Another voice. Follow my thread, my lord. Can you feel it? Hold on, I’ll guide you in… “Seri, follow my voice… Is it really you?”
“… Oh, my lord Prince… Ce’na davonet, Giré D’Arnath… and the most excellent boy… and my dear lady… Vasrin Creator be praised for his glories… Vasrin Shaper be thanked for her mercies…”
“Paulo, child, how I’ve missed you… and Seri… oh, goddess mother, Seri, what’s happened to him?”
Kind voices, gentle hands… blankets… cool, sweet water… brandy that scalded my throat and seared my stomach… I could hear and feel them, but I could not see and could not answer for the fire and desolation in my eyes. Then the horrific visions were brushed away, as if with some sweet magic, and I slept without dreams, except for one of strong arms that held me close as if they would never let me go. When I woke on a crisp green morning alone in my blanket, I wept, for I thought those strong arms had been only a dream.
CHAPTER 46
Paulo
I never heard of nobody from Dunfarrie ever having an adventure. Old Jacopo, the Lady Seri’s friend and mine, who was killed by the Zhid-he’d been a sailor, and that was something that was talked about for a long time. But he told me about sailoring, and it didn’t sound no different from working in a stable or on a farm. Work all day and half the night, bad food and never enough, folks yelling at you to do this or do that. But I guess Jacopo loved sailoring the way some folks love farming, or the way I take to horse-keeping, and that made the difference. As for adventure, though, my travels with the Prince and the Lady Seri beat all he could tell, but I’d had just about all a person could take of it.
Thanks to the Prince, we’d come back safe to the green world all together again. I recognized the place where we came out of the doorway in the rock, even though it was daytime and spring instead of night and winter like it was when we’d gone through it before. We weren’t two leagues from Avonar-the dead one-and the cave in the rock was the one where we’d followed the Prince through the Gate-fire into the magic city. Kellea had guided us to the portal with her finding magic, and she and the Dulcé Bareil were waiting for us. I wanted to kiss every blade of grass, wallow in the streams, and eat Bareil’s cooking until my belly popped from it.
Saving the Prince had been a near thing. I just barely heard the Prince’s call in my head when I was combing Firebreather on that night, wondering if the young master was going to come for me or not. The Prince was half asleep-half dead actually-because the Lords had put a spell on everyone in the Gray House, sending them to sleep so they would never wake up. The Prince had figured it out almost too late. He’d managed to get loose of his chains with his new-grown magic, but I’d found him trying to drag himself out of the fencing yard and not making a good job of it at all. I had to get him away from the house and help him stay awake until the spell wore off. That’s why we were late and the young master ended up in such a wicked way. But between us all, we’d gotten loose of the Lords and through the Breach, and I’d never been so thankful for anything in my life.
I think I slept for a whole day straight through after Kellea dragged us through the Gate and the cave. I might have done longer-I’m good at sleeping-but the Prince woke me up. “Paulo, how are you this morning?” He was crouched down by me, whispering. He looked wicked tired. The Lady Serf was rolled in a blanket, sleeping close by the fire.
“I got no complaints. Except-”
“You’re hungry, right?”
I never knew somebody could smile with his whole self like the Prince, even when he was worn flat and worried.
“Are you looking in my head?”
“No need. Friends know these things about each other. Bareil has hot porridge over there, but once you’ve eaten, I need your help.” Never thought I’d hear a prince say that to me. Made me being hungry not near so important. “I need you to stay with Gerick a while.”
“How is he? Have you…?”
He shook his head. “I’ve not been able to help him yet. I’ve looked at him a bit and tried a few things, but I’ll need everything I can muster to attempt it. So, I’ve got to sleep for a while. But I don’t want him left alone. Seri isn’t going to wake for hours yet, and he doesn’t know Kellea or Bareil.”
“Sure, I’ll come. Is he awake then?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure he can sleep any more. He’s not eaten or drunk or anything since we’ve come here. And he’s spoken not a word. Hardly moved.” The Prince rubbed his head. “Get yourself something to eat, then come to us.”
They had pitched a tent under the trees to shelter the young master. Bareil said they were keeping it dark inside as he seemed a little easier in the dark. All I could see at first were two white lights. Then, as I got used to the dark, I saw him sitting up in the corner, huddled up to his knees, his hands clenched into tight fists. The white lights were the jewels they had given him for eyes.