by Terry Brooks
She snorted. “You couldn’t? You didn’t even try!”
“I started to say something, but you just turned away.” He was suddenly feeling threatened. “I didn’t think you wanted me to—”
“If you wanted to talk to me, you should have done so!” she snapped, interrupting him. “The problem with you is you’ve lost all your confidence. You don’t know who you are anymore. You think too much. You talk everything to death. What’s happened to you?”
She put enough emphasis on this last part to let him know that she was fed up with him.
“You were always the confident one, the reckless one. So much more so than Redden. He might think things over, but not you. You simply charged ahead. You dared anything. It defined who you were, but that’s all been lost. I don’t know who you are, but it certainly isn’t anyone I know!”
“I’m still who I was,” he insisted.
“Then show it!” She dropped to her knees beside him, her face right up against his. “Stop being so pathetic. Go back to acting like you have a spine.”
He glared at her. “Oh, I see. You want me to be more like Austrum, is that it? I saw how he was holding you.”
She shook her head and rocked back on her heels. “Austrum again. You just can’t let that go, can you?” Her brow furrowed. “If you’re so worried about Austrum, why don’t you do something about it?”
He stared. “What do you mean?”
“You’re jealous of him. You can’t stand it when I pay attention to him. You hated it when he kissed me, and you suffer every time he comes near me. You think all sorts of things are happening between us. If you care about this so much, do something to change it.”
“You want me to fight him?”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Try to think about this in other terms. This isn’t about you and Austrum, it’s about you and me. Understand, Railing? You and me! Tell me—do you love me or not? Which is it?”
“You know I love you.” He brushed strands of red hair from his eyes. “I told you I did.”
“Well, then, it’s pretty simple, isn’t it? If you love me, why don’t you show it? Stop telling me you love me and do something to show it. You look capable enough.”
“Do something? Do what?”
She glared. “Do I have to tell you everything?” She punched him hard on the shoulder, and then exhaled sharply. “When you want something badly enough, sometimes you just have to take it. So why don’t you do that, Railing?”
The emphasis again, this time on his name. Bitter and demanding and something else he couldn’t quite define. Urgent, perhaps?
“I don’t …”
“Are you listening to me? Why don’t you just take me?”
“What?”
She leaned close enough that he could see the wildness of the emotions roiling in her green eyes. She seized the front of his tunic and yanked hard. “You heard what I said. If you love me, take me!”
“But …”
“Take me, Railing. Your brother did!”
Had he heard her right? A wash of bright anger and shock flooded through him. He skidded from one emotion to another, all in a matter of seconds. He felt all the air go out of him, the weight of her words huge and crushing. He felt everything inside turn suddenly tense and dangerous.
She was right in front of him, waiting for him. He reached for her, pulled her into him, and kissed her hard—none of it gentle or sweet, just demanding. He kissed her repeatedly and found suddenly that she was kissing him back.
He forced her down then, onto the ground amid the tall grasses. Except for the sky overhead—now almost completely dark, with the first stars beginning to reveal themselves—the world had disappeared.
She pulled him over her. “Don’t stop,” she said.
And he didn’t.
Afterward, they lay together in the shelter of the meadow grasses, night fully descended, the world silent in the aftermath of what had just happened. They weren’t speaking yet. Railing was still too caught up in his feelings, still lost in a lingering sense of wonder and contentment. He dozed for a time. When he woke, Mirai was pressed back up against him, and he found himself wanting her forever, determined that he would never let her go again, not for a single moment—but wondering at the same time if such a thing were possible.
Then he remembered what she had said about Redden, and some of the joy left him. He knew he should leave the matter alone, but he couldn’t make himself do that.
His hand covered hers. “I always wondered about you and Redden.”
He felt her shrug. “Maybe you should have asked him about it.”
“We never talk about you. Not in that way.”
“You sound like you think I might be shattered if you did. I wouldn’t, you know. I’m pretty strong.”
“I know.” He was silent a moment. “What you said about Redden and you …”
“It never happened.”
He was caught off guard. “But you said …”
“Forget what I said. You needed a little nudge, so I provided it.” She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Sometimes, you just have to know. You have to find out.”
“So you made it up?”
“Have you ever wondered how I can tell the two of you apart so easily?” she asked. “It’s because of the way you act around me. It’s not the same. You probably don’t realize it, but you’re always eager and he’s always restrained. One or two sentences, a few words even, and I know which is which. Sometimes a look is enough. Or the way you move.”
She turned over to face him. Her hand reached up to stroke his face. “You haven’t been right since Redden went into the Forbidding. You lost yourself for a while, lost everything that makes you who you are. The way you fussed about Austrum? We talked; that was all. He’s interesting because he isn’t afraid of me. He lets me know right away what he’s thinking. Kissing me was bold. I liked that. But he’s not for me.”
Railing couldn’t help himself. “And I am?”
She looked away. “I don’t know. I’m not sure about you. You’re still out there somewhere, hiding out, keeping apart. You haven’t come all the way back, even now.”
“But this … what we just …”
“That isn’t enough. Don’t you see? It’s just something that happened. Yes, I wanted it to happen. I did. But it was just what I said before—a finding out.”
He locked down everything he was tempted to say and put it all in a safe place. He breathed in the scent of the grasses and the night air and looked up at the stars.
“I want more of you than you’ve given me,” he said. “I want a lot more. Maybe I want everything. I’m saying this to you straight out because I don’t want you to think I would ever take what just happened lightly. I understand what you’re telling me about myself. I know you’re right. I’ve gone way off into the woods, and I can’t seem to find my way back. But I will.”
She was silent a minute, then she got to her feet. “We shouldn’t be out here like this. We might not be safe. Besides, I’m getting cold.”
He rose with her. He tried not to look at her, but failed miserably and was filled with an aching that worked its way from his exposed skin right down to the deepest part of his heart. He desperately wanted to hold on to her, but he didn’t know if he could.
When they were ready to set out for the airship, Mirai suddenly turned back and faced the grave. “Just a minute.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Good-bye, Farshaun. Thanks for teaching us so much. Thanks for believing in us and always being there. You had a good heart. Railing and Redden and I will miss you every day.”
She paused. “And don’t be offended by what happened between Railing and me. I think it helped us both to cope with your loss. I think if you could tell us, you would say that you approve.”
She turned away again, not bothering to look at Railing. “Come on, let’s go.”
As they walked back toward the Quickening, Railing decided to do what he sho
uld have done days earlier—what he knew instinctively she expected him to do if he loved her as much as he claimed. He told her about his meetings with the King of the Silver River and the Grimpond. He told her everything he had been keeping secret from her and held nothing back. He opened himself up and let it all come out. He did it in a clean, straightforward way, being as honest as he could about what he thought it all meant and how it made him feel.
“I knew what I was doing by hiding all this,” he said when he had finished. “I knew it was wrong, that I was being selfish and arrogant. I just couldn’t accept having to turn back because no one else felt as strongly about finding Redden as I did. But I couldn’t face the prospect of going into the Forbidding after him, either. I can admit that now. The idea terrified me. Finding Grianne Ohmsford seemed the better choice. I convinced myself of it. If I had it to do over, I might make the same choice again. I can’t say I wouldn’t. Redden means everything to me.”
“And you thought I didn’t feel as strongly about him as you do?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know. Well, I guess I did. I didn’t think you would turn back. Not really. But if it was just you and me, how could we manage? We need the airship to carry us and the others to help sail it. I was afraid that, if you knew, you might think you had to tell them. I just couldn’t risk it.”
“But now you’ve changed your mind? Why?”
“You know,” he said.
They reached the ship and climbed the rope ladder, which apparently had been left down for them. One of the Rovers on watch grunted an acknowledgment and pulled the ladder up after they were aboard. They said good night to him, and together they walked to the empty pilot box and sat down in front of it, shoulder-to-shoulder, staring out at the night.
“I don’t much like you for being so self-centered,” she said after a few minutes, “but I understand why you did it. And at least you’re telling me now. I appreciate that.”
He looked into her eyes, forcing himself to meet her steady gaze. “In the morning, I’ll tell the others.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that you should. It doesn’t matter now. We’ve come too far. No one’s turning back at this point.”
“But they should know. I have to tell them. It’s bad enough I didn’t do so before.”
“It’s bad you didn’t. No argument there. But you won’t accomplish anything by telling them now. Farshaun gave his life for this quest. Everyone believes in it, and it would be wrong to take that away from them. Besides, you don’t know for sure what the warnings mean. Or even if they’re real. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”
She reached across and gripped his arm hard. “You’ve committed us to this thing, and you can’t back out of it now. We have to keep going.”
They stared out at the stars for a few moments. Railing tried to think what he should say, but it was Mirai who spoke first.
“You’re looking at our task in the wrong way. You’re thinking only of Redden. Find Grianne, bring her back from wherever she is, and maybe she can save him from the Forbidding—that’s your plan. But there’s more at stake now than there was in the beginning. The Ellcrys is failing; the demons are breaking out of the Forbidding. Everyone in the Four Lands is at risk. Bringing Grianne back to face the Straken Lord is about more than helping Redden. It’s about helping everyone. Maybe Grianne can do something to stop the Straken Lord; maybe she can prevent him from invading the Four Lands.”
“If she even exists,” he said.
“Don’t talk like that. You’re the one who thinks she does. That’s why we all came with you. You better not stop believing now.”
He drew back defensively. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
She shook her head, as if uncertain of his answer. “She was a powerful witch before she left Paranor and disappeared. Everyone knows the stories about her. But that was a long time ago. We just have to find out if she still is. We have to hope she can help.”
She paused. “We need you to return to the way you once were. We need you to be strong for the rest of us. We’ve lost all but two of the Druids, and neither one of those is here to lead us. We’ve lost Farshaun. There’s no one else. You’re the leader. You’re the one we all look to.”
She went silent again, this time for much longer. The Rovers on watch traded positions fore and aft, walking past like ghosts in the darkness. Railing tried to imagine what would happen if his efforts failed and he had to go into the Forbidding and find Redden by himself. He would do it, of course. He would do anything for his brother.
Except give up the girl sitting beside him, he thought suddenly.
Or would he even do that for Redden?
He glanced over and away again, quickly. “I won’t say anything to the others. We’ll just go on like nothing’s different, like everything will work out.”
She gave him a look. “Nothing is different. Not where this quest is concerned. And everything will work out, one way or the other.”
He felt scolded and turned away. “I guess it will.”
He felt her eyes on him, cool and appraising. “I’ll say it one more time. We all need you to be who you were when you left Bakrabru. The man Farshaun knew. You got back to that a little while ago, in a small way. Don’t forget what it took.”
He almost smiled at the implication, but managed with some effort to remain expressionless.
She stood. “I’m going to bed.”
He scrambled up. “Can I … uh, maybe …?”
She gave him a hard look. “What do you think?”
He twisted his mouth into a grimace. “I just wanted you to know that I still …” He couldn’t finish.
She stepped close and kissed him on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”
He watched her walk over to the hatchway and climb down the ladder. He waited for her to come back out again, even knowing she wouldn’t. He spent a long time in the dark, looking at nothing, thinking about her.
None of his thoughts were particularly constructive, but he enjoyed examining them nevertheless.
6
Aphenglow Elessedil was running hard. She had given up on Cymrian, leaving him to follow as best he could. He was too badly wounded to keep up, but she had thrown caution to the winds.
The Federation had taken Arling!
She couldn’t make the words sound real. That Arling had been given over to their enemies so willingly was inconceivable, however well intentioned Sora and Aquinel’s decision. Why had they been so ready to act without knowing more about who Arling was? They had barely bothered to make an inquiry before handing her over and ridding themselves of the burden of caring for her.
Aphen ran faster, propelled by shock and rage. The sodden earth squished muddily beneath her pounding boots, hindering her efforts. She could see east across the fields ahead to where the forest encroached, forming a dark wall. The Federation airmen were in there somewhere. They would have landed their vessel where it could not be readily discovered. That assassin would have wanted it concealed while he took his creatures and came hunting for her. She saw his face in front of her, twisted with hate as he died. She remembered how hard he had tried to kill Cymrian. Could the people who had come with him—the Federation airmen and their captain, still aboard the ship with Arling as their prisoner—be any better?
She was closing on the forest when she saw the Federation warship rise above the treetops into the rain-clouded skies.
She screamed out Arling’s name, not caring that she might be heard, but knowing it did nothing to help. She summoned the Druid magic at once, bringing it raging and furious to her fingertips, gathering up its threads and weaving them into a cohesive whole. She would burn that airship out of the sky! She would incinerate those who had taken her sister, just turn them all to ash, make them sorry they had ever been born!
Gasping, shaking in fury, she raised her arms and extended them, fingers pointed at the warship. Then slowly she lowered them and began crying sile
ntly. It was no good. Her magic wouldn’t cause enough damage to matter. The vessel was too far away.
And even if it could, would she really destroy it in midair with Arling aboard? Would she risk her sister’s life like that?
She knew she wouldn’t. She stood helplessly, watching the airship disappear into the horizon, headed east across the Tirfing.
Seconds later Cymrian was beside her, his eyes on the ship as it slipped farther away in the grayness. “Did you see any flags or pennants?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was too busy dredging up a magic that wouldn’t serve any purpose to be bothered with something that might.” Her words were edged with bitterness. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know why she was apologizing except that she should have done better when she’d had the chance, and this was just one more example. She wiped at her eyes, feeling empty and lost inside. “We have to go after her, Cymrian,” she said. “We can’t give up.”
He put his arms around her and held her against him. “We are going after her, and we’re not giving up. We’ll get her back.”
She was not sure if she believed there was any real chance. Arling was on her way to an unknown destination. Even if they discovered what it was, they would still have to find her. The Southland cities of the Federation were unfamiliar to them; they wouldn’t know where to begin to look.
No matter the risk of discovery, she knew she would have to use the Elfstones, or Arling would be lost to her.
Cymrian had stepped away and was searching the countryside. “We’ll need a skiff or horses, whichever we can find first. Come on, we’ve got to hurry!”
They set off again, with Cymrian leading the way, heading east in the direction of the Federation vessel, which by now was out of sight. Aphen followed obediently, not knowing what else to do, having no better idea of where to go and hoping that her protector did. They crossed the fields parallel to the woods ahead and soon encountered a river. Cymrian stopped once more, cast about for a moment, then turned upstream. In a short while they came to a narrowing in the river and a wooden footbridge.
