The Wayfarer King (39 page)

“No, we don’t, Emtor,” someone said. “I’m sorry.”

Gavin searched his ancient memory for a time he might have known Arek to travel great distances by magic. Nothing came to mind, but something else occurred to him. He was only limited by time, not by realm, not by location.

After dropping the rune into his coin pouch and making sure it was securely tied to his belt, Gavin waded into the icy lake and began to swim to the opposite shore. His muscles threatened to stiffen with the cold, but his will was stronger. He climbed out, dripping wet and shivering, and looked around at the landscape to estimate where Regal Street should be.

He focused his hidden eye on the gem in his ring and followed its thread to the south, through time, to Daia. He connected with her power, opened the vortex and stepped through.

The streets of Tern were still and quiet. Residents heeded the king’s warning to stay inside their homes. Behind him, the palace loomed darkly with Ritol trapped inside. In the distance, Ronor rode hard through the city, his horse’s hoofbeats pounding the pavement as he sped toward Saliria and on to the cave where he would find Queen Calewen already slain. If only Gavin could return to an earlier time to save her, but he pushed the impossible from his mind. It was time to save his kingdom.

Cold and wet, he shivered violently from head to toe. He spotted a public stable and ran toward it. The nearest horse in the stable was a white mare, who lifted its head and snorted when Gavin ran into the stable. It didn’t mind the bridle, but it did whinny in surprise when he hopped onto its bare back, threw a leg over and guided it from the stable.

“Hey!” a woman shouted, running out of a neighboring house. “What do you think you’re doing? Come back here!”

“Sorry,” Gavin muttered as he heeled the horse to a gallop. The empty streets were a blessing. He ran the horse all the way across town to the Garnet district, or at least what would one day become the Garnet district. Now it was a field of tall grass where several horses, cows, goats and sheep grazed. The animals looked up at Gavin’s approach and indifferently watched him ride to the far southeast. This would be about the right place. He dismounted and let the horse join the other lifestock while he scanned the field as it sloped more steeply upward.

As quickly as he could, he followed his ring’s thread to Daia, opened a vortex and returned to the midrealm. Here, the rune would be safe from Ravenkind until Gavin could return for it two hundred years in the future. Rocks and boulders littered the ground. In particular, a boulder that must have been twice his height caught his eye. It wouldn’t easily move.

He jogged to it, crunching the rocks and gravel beneath his feet. First, he pushed on the boulder from the slope above to judge whether it was truly stationary. It didn’t budge. Next, he examined it, committing its shape to memory. With his knife, he scratched a cross into the uphill side. Immediately below his mark, he dug a hole the depth of his forearm. Finally, he placed his coin pouch with the summoning rune inside into the hole. He hoped this would work and that someone wouldn’t find it between now and when he retrieved it. Although he would be digging it out in a few minutes, more than two hundred years would have passed by then. The notion was enough to twist a man’s mind into madness.

He supposed to return to his own time, he’d use the same technique of intent. He hoped so, anyway.

Back to the present time.

He connected with Daia, opened a vortex and stepped in.

Before Red could take a step to retrieve the next victim, Ritol snatched him by the neck.

“No! Not that one,” Brodas shouted.

“I hunger,” Ritol said as it squeezed its fist around Red’s throat. Blood gushed from the holes made by its two-inch claws. His arms went limp, and the sword fell from his grasp to land on the floor with a thud. Ritol sucked in air, then tossed the lifeless body aside. Red struck the wall and crashed to the floor, leaving a large, crumbling dent.

“No, you fool!” Brodas yelled, furious. “You’ll feed when I say. You’ll kill whom I say.”

Ritol turned its head toward him and advanced. “I
hunger.
”

For the first time, Brodas felt a glimmer of apprehension. He took a few steps backward. “No. Stop.” Ritol continued toward him. “I’ve plenty for you to feed upon in the cellar. Be patient.” He circled the room, heading back toward Cirang.

She tried to flee. Ritol was faster. It seized her with both hands, digging its claws into her shoulder and hip. She let out a piercing scream. The porcelain cat figurine fell to the floor and shattered. Ritol twisted her body with a wet crunch and drew a sharp breath.

Ritol faced Brodas again, seeming even larger now, and shinier, as it dropped Cirang like a piece of trash. For one brief and awful moment, Brodas thought he saw her eyelids flutter and her chest rise as if she’d taken a breath.

“Come no closer.” Using the three gems in his palm, he thrust a wave of power across the room to repel the monster. The gems crumbled to pieces.

Ritol flew backward and slammed into the wall with Cirang’s body and bits of porcelain. It disentangled itself, climbed to its feet and came toward him again. “A useful spell, and I shall have it.”

“Stop,” he cried. “I’m your summoner. I called you forth as my champion. You’re bound to me.”

“You are mistaken,” Ritol boomed. Its voice felt like three claws shredding his eardrums. “I am bound to Crigoth Sevae. You do not command me.”

Brodas felt his bladder empty, and warmth flowed down his thigh. “But Sevae’s been dead two centuries. I’m your summoner now.”

“Crigoth Sevae never released me. I was trapped for endless days without sustenance. Now I am free, AND I HUNGER!”

A clawed hand shot toward Brodas’s throat. He felt an excruciating burning. The air was wet and heavy. He couldn’t breathe. The last thing he saw were those terrible eyes shining in anticipation of the creature’s next breath.

Gavin stood on the mountain slope, but there was no boulder here. Around him were the burnt shells of what used to be people’s homes. The warm spring air calmed his shivers. At least his armor was back on. Thank Arek for that.

Aldras Gar!

From his right came a piercing scream. His blood went icy. Someone was dying. He peered around a corner in time to see Adro break away from the group and gallop down the street toward the source of the scream.
Damn it, Adro!
He was going to get himself killed.

Edan shouted, “Adro, wait!” A couple of the Sisters’ horses took reactive steps in pursuit.

Gavin hoped to hell this would work. He connected with Daia and returned to the midrealm.

To his relief the boulder was in the same place. The cross he’d scratched into it had greatly faded but was still visible. Excited, he began to dig, trying not to speculate about which of the innocent people in that house, people he cared about, had screamed. They could be dying right now. Hurry. He dug as fast as he could to the depth of his elbow, but there was no sign of the pouch. The mark on the boulder was directly above his hole. Maybe the new hole was slightly farther away from the rock than his first. He grabbed handfuls of dirt deep in the hole along the side and pulled them out. His fingertip brushed something soft. The pouch. Digging his fingers into the moist dirt around it, he was able to get a firmer grip on it and pull it free. He withdrew his arm and opened it, now dark with the stain of earth. He muttered a curse in relief when his fingers brushed the cool stone. The summoning rune was right where he’d left it.

He had no time to spare. After opening another vortex, Gavin stepped in when it was a deep, angry red.

They’d all heard Ravenkind choking, heard the monster take his soul with its breath, heard the lifeless body thud to the floor. Feanna didn’t need to touch anyone or shift to sense the terror that gripped Liera, the children, and even Daia, the swordswoman used to staring down her own death. It was the same fear that shook her own body. That thing in the cottage would soon kill them all. If only she’d had the chance for one last good-bye to her parents, one last apology for not giving them the grandchildren they’d wanted. She hoped the monster would take her first so she wouldn’t live her final moments listening to these poor children scream before their lives ended with the same stomach-turning crunch that had surely ended Cirang’s. She bowed her head.
Asti-nayas, I humbly submit my life to you. Please take these innocent children into your loving embrace before this demon slays them.

It approached the edge of the cellar and looked down at them. Everyone froze, staring back at it. Tansa and Jilly stopped crying. Feanna held her breath, knowing what would happen next and wishing with all her heart that by not breathing, she could pause time itself.

One of Ritol’s clawed hands stretched out toward them. A powerful gust pushed them into the back wall, away from the monster. Then the wind reversed, pulling at them. They held each other, trying to keep from being sucked toward the demon. Jilly began to slide across the floor toward it. She screamed. Feanna held one arm, and Daia grabbed the other and braced her foot against the cellar wall. Jilly’s legs lifted off the ground as the monster tugged harder, stretching the girl’s body between them. Feanna remembered the Rune of Protection Gavin had given her. “Hold on, Daia.” She let go of Jilly long enough to withdraw it from her pocket, then took hold again and prayed it would work. “Kiloenth.”

The wind stopped.

Together, Jilly and Daia collapsed back onto the dirt floor. Jilly scrambled into the comfort of Feanna’s waiting arms.

“If you will not come to me, then I shall come to you,” the demon said in that horrible voice. The ladder slid to the edge of the floor and tipped down into the cellar. It lowered until it hit the ground with a thunk. Everyone huddled into the corner farthest from the ladder. A loathsome sense of anticipation emanated from the monster, like malicious glee.

It felt emotion.

The realization startled her. If it felt glee, it could feel fear.

The ladder slid to the edge of the floor and tipped down into the cellar. It lowered until it hit the ground with a thunk. Everyone huddled into the corner farthest from the ladder.

“Daia,” Feanna whispered, holding out her hand. “Take my hand. I’ve an idea.”

Confusion flashed across the swordswoman’s face, but she didn’t hesitate. When they touched, Feanna felt everyone’s fear acutely. Sweat broke out all over her body. She began to tremble from the fright, swallowing hard to rein it in. Her impending death loomed even larger in her mind with ghastly images of the children’s bodies covered in blood, their faces twisted in horror. She
shifted
, which increased the feelings tenfold. Her heart pounded. Her stomach roiled. The pressure in her throat tightened so much that the scream bubbling up from deep within her lungs couldn’t escape. They would all die. Their screams would be cut short one by one as the monster snapped their bodies and drew its dreadful breath, devouring their lives. The terror of the moment consumed her thoughts. Her mind painted images of lifeless bodies thrown about, of blood spraying the rest of them as they screamed, huddled together during their final moments.