Part 63 (2/2)
”More than that,” Master Larad said, limping closer. ”You're the one who made this world. You're the Worldsmith.”
”I was was the Worldsmith,” the one-handed man said. He turned his ancient gaze on Travis. ”You are the Worldsmith now, Runebreaker.” the Worldsmith,” the one-handed man said. He turned his ancient gaze on Travis. ”You are the Worldsmith now, Runebreaker.”
Travis shook his head. ”I chose the world that was. This is still the world as you made it.”
The man's eyes were thoughtful. ”So it is,” he said. ”So it is.”
Master Larad held out his right hand. The rune of runes shone faintly on his palm. ”The rune of sky has been broken. I don't need this anymore, and somehow it seems I'm not going to die after all. You must take it back.”
The bearded man shook his head. ”I cannot. Once a thing is made, it cannot be unmade without breaking it.”
Larad lowered his hand. ”Like Sky, you mean. You made him, didn't you? He was your servant.”
”I gave him the form you knew, that he might do my work upon the world, yet I did not make him or any of the other runes. I spoke them at the beginning of the world-this world-and I bound them so they would not fade. But the runes were first wrought by an even older Worldsmith than I.”
Larad closed his right hand into a fist and lowered it by his side.
Aryn hesitated, then stepped forward. ”You're not just the Worldsmith, are you? You're Sia as well.”
The man smiled, and in his place stood a woman, though what she was-maiden, mother, or withered crone-it was impossible to say. The features of a thousand different women flickered across her face. ”Sia and the Worldsmith are just two names for the same thing, daughter. Why people insist on believing otherwise, I cannot say.”
Aryn smiled, and Grace did as well. She wished Master Graedin was present. What would he think to learn that his mad idea, that the runespeakers and the witches were not so very different, was in fact the truth? Olrig. Sia. They were one. Magic was magic-it all sprang from the same source.
It was almost full dark now. Grace couldn't stop s.h.i.+vering. They could talk more tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the sun rose again. Until then, they should return to the keep.
”Will you stay?” Grace said to the woman with many faces, though she wasn't certain if she meant here, at Gravenfist, or if she meant in the world in the world.
The woman's face blurred, and she was Grisla again. She grinned, baring her one tooth, but there was sorrow in her eye. ”Perhaps I'll stay for a time, Your High-And-Mightiness. But my children have already gone on before me, back into the Twilight Realm. This time, when we go, we shall never return, and I think the Maugrim shall come with us. No one will remain who knows the way through the mists. Our world, our time, will be removed from yours forever.”
Grace wept. ”Why? Why are you leaving us?”
”There, there, daughter.” She brushed the dampness from Grace's cheeks. ”I am old. We are old. And the world has newer G.o.ds. Look-here comes the newest of them all even now.”
They turned as ruby-colored light pushed back the gloom. Three figures walked toward them from the direction of the keep, hand in hand. One was a man with coppery eyes, a grin on his handsome, familiar face, though he walked on two feet, not one. The other was a beautiful woman with black hair and eyes and skin like polished ebony. Between them was a child clad only in a gray s.h.i.+ft, her hair wild and fiery. It was from the girl that the light emanated.
”Lirith!” Aryn called out. ”Sareth!”
But Grace called out another name. ”Tira!”
The little girl slipped her hands free and dashed forward on bare feet. Grace knelt and caught Tira in her arms.
”You came back,” she said, even though she knew she hadn't. All the same, it felt good to say it. She stroked the girl's wild hair.
”I love you,” Tira said in a solemn voice.
The crimson light grew stronger, encapsulating Grace in warmth. Then it dimmed and Grace held, not her warm little body, but shadows. She stood and looked up. A star shone in the southern sky, bright as a ruby. A fierce ache throbbed in Grace's chest, but it was a good pain. It meant that somehow, after all that had happened, her heart was still there.
It meant she was alive.
”Come on, Grace.” It was Travis. He touched her arm. ”It's getting cold. We should go inside.”
They started back toward the keep, and as they went Grace noticed how Travis and Beltan stayed close to Vani's side. Though they had not spoken of it, it was clear both men knew the T'gol T'gol was with child. Grace wondered what would happen to them, but for now the three seemed content to walk close together. As for what the future held-if Fate would allow them to stay together-that could wait for tomorrow. was with child. Grace wondered what would happen to them, but for now the three seemed content to walk close together. As for what the future held-if Fate would allow them to stay together-that could wait for tomorrow.
Other things could not wait, and as they walked Grace finally told them about Durge, though Aryn had to help her, and when one was too overwhelmed by grief the other would speak for a time. However, neither Grace nor Aryn mentioned what Durge had revealed to them: how he had loved Aryn. It was a private thing. The young baroness had married Teravian out of duty, and she had not resisted. However, the knowledge that Durge had wanted her not for her position, but simply for herself, was like a secret jewel she could treasure in lonely times to come.
Then Grace saw the way Teravian's hand brushed against Aryn's, and despite her sorrow she smiled. Perhaps there would not be so many lonely times in Aryn's future after all.
”There's one thing I don't understand,” Beltan said as they drew near the secret pa.s.sage. It was lit with torches against the night, and guards stood at the entrance.
”What is it?” Grace asked him.
The blond man scratched his chin. ”Well, Travis broke the First Rune, just as prophecy said he would. But prophecy also said the Warriors of Vathris were destined to lose the Final Battle.”
”We did,” Sir Tarus said. ”The army of the Pale King had us trapped in front of the keep's wall. They were about to crush us. Victory was theirs.”
”We could not have defeated them,” Teravian agreed.
Aryn glanced at Travis. ”Only then the Pale King died, and without Mohg to help them, so did his slaves.”
Grace thought about this. ”That doesn't change the fact that we lost.” She sighed, gazing at Aryn, Teravian, and Tarus. ”It was Travis who saved the world. I suppose, in the end, we didn't really matter.”
”That's not true,” Travis said, his gray eyes intent upon her. ”You did matter. You all did. If you hadn't held Gravenfist Keep, the forces of the Pale King would have had time to overrun Eldh. They would have killed thousands upon thousands of people. The Dominions would have been laid waste.” He gripped her hand. ”Without you, Grace, there wouldn't have been a world for me to save, a world for me to choose.”
Tarus grinned at her. ”It looks like we did good after all, Your Majesty.”
Grace lifted a hand, touching the bandage on her right shoulder. ”Durge did good,” she said firmly.
Together they stepped into the pa.s.sage, leaving night to rule over the world. For a time.
It was after midnight.
Deirdre Falling Hawk sat at the dinette table in her South Kensington flat, gazing at the screen of her computer. She had spent the last three hours performing search after search in the Seekers' databases using her Echelon 7 clearance, but she had turned up nothing more relating to the Thomas At.w.a.ter case. She lifted a gla.s.s to her lips, but it was empty, and so was the nearby bottle of scotch.
Deirdre set down the gla.s.s, then leaned back from the table and rubbed her aching neck. An image shone in the center of the screen: the keystone taken from the location that had housed the tavern Thomas At.w.a.ter had been forbidden by the Seekers to return to. The same location that centuries later would house Surrender Dorothy, along with Glinda and its other half-fairy patrons. But what did it mean? Who was At.w.a.ter really? And what was the true purpose of the keystone?
Maybe it didn't matter now. She pushed aside the computer and picked up the copy of today's London Time Times, which lay on the table. Anders had brought it to the office that day, and she had stolen it before heading home. DURATEK INVESTIGATION CONTINUES DURATEK INVESTIGATION CONTINUES, the headline read, NEW ATROCITIES UNCOVERED NEW ATROCITIES UNCOVERED. Another headline caught Deirdre's eye, in smaller type near the bottom of the page: MORE DURATEK EXECUTIVES FOUND DEAD MORE DURATEK EXECUTIVES FOUND DEAD. The first sentences of the article described the mystery around the deaths. It seemed, when they were found, all of the executives had been missing their hearts.
A sharp smile cut across Deirdre's lips. ”I hope you're seeing this Hadrian, wherever you are.”
She wondered where in the world he was just then. If he was even still in this world. Would she ever see him again? She didn't know, but she hoped so. Just as she hoped one day she would see Travis Wilder and Grace Beckett again. She gripped the yellowed bear claw that hung around her neck. That was the funny thing about hope. It kept you going, even when the odds seemed impossible.
Her computer let out a chime, and her gaze snapped back to the screen. The picture of the keystone was gone, and crimson words pulsed in its place.
> Open your door.
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