A Grant of Arms. Morgan RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
a man who exhibited chivalry, honor. Reece was the one for her.
“I just don’t know how he could have survived all this,” Illepra said sadly.
“You love him, don’t you?” Selese asked.
Illepra reddened and turned away.
“I never said anything about love,” she said defensively. “I’m just concerned for him. He’s just a friend.”
Selese smiled.
“Is he? Then why do you not stop speaking of him?”
“Do I?” Illepra asked, surprised. “I hadn’t realized it.”
“Yes, constantly.”
Illepra shrugged and grew silent.
“I guess he got under my skin somehow. He makes me so mad sometimes. I’m constantly dragging him from the taverns. He promises me, every time, that he will never return. But he always does. It’s maddening, really. I’d thrash him if I could.”
“Is that why you’re so anxious to find him?” Selese asked. “To thrash him?”
Now it was Illepra’s turn to smile.
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Perhaps I want to give him a hug, too.”
They rounded a hill and came upon a soldier, a Silesian. He lay beneath a tree, moaning, his leg clearly broken. Selese could see it from here, with her expert eye. Nearby, tied to the tree, were two horses.
They rushed to his side.
As Selese set to tending his wounds, a deep gash in his thigh, she could not help but ask what she had asked every soldier she had encountered:
“Have you seen any of the royal family?” she asked. “Have you seen Reece?”
All the other soldiers had turned and shaken their heads and looked away, and Selese was so used to disappointment that she by now expected a negative answer.
But, to her surprise, this soldier nodded in the affirmative.
“I have not ridden with him, but I have seen him, yes, my lady.”
Selese’s eyes widened with excitement and hope.
“Is he alive? Is he hurt? Do you know where he is?” she asked, her heart quickening, clutching the man’s wrist.
He nodded.
“I do. He is on a special mission. To retrieve the Sword.”
“What sword?”
“Why, the Destiny Sword.”
She stared in awe. The Destiny Sword. The sword of legend.
“Where?” she asked, desperate. “Where is he?”
“He is gone to the Eastern Crossing.”
The Eastern Crossing, Selese thought. That was far, so far. There was no way they could make it on foot. Not at this pace. And if Reece was there, surely he was in danger. Surely, he needed her.
As she finished caring for the soldier, she looked over and noticed the two horses tied to the tree. Given this man’s broken leg, there was no way he could ride them. The two horses here would be useless to him. And soon enough, they would die if they were not taken care of.
The soldier saw her eyeing them.
“Take them, lady,” he offered. “I won’t be needing them.”
“But they are yours,” she said.
“I can’t ride them. Not like this. You’ll put them to use. Take them, and find Reece. It’s a long journey from here and you won’t make it on foot. You’ve helped me greatly. I won’t die here. I have food and water for three days. Men will come for me. Patrols come by here all the time. Take them and go.”
Selese clasped his wrist, overflowing with gratitude. She turned to Illepra, determined.
“I must go and find Reece. I’m sorry. There are two horses here. You can take the other anywhere you need to go. I need to cross the Ring, to go to the Eastern crossing. I’m sorry. But I must leave you.”
Selese mounted her horse, and was surprised as Illepra rushed forward and mounted the one beside her. Illepra reached out with her short sword and chopped the rope binding the horses to the tree.
She turned to Selese and smiled.
“Did you really think, after all we’ve been through, I would let you go alone?” she asked.
Selese smiled. “I guess not,” she answered.
The two of them kicked their horses, and they took off, racing down the road, heading ever further east, somewhere, Selese prayed, towards Reece.
Chapter Nine
Gwendolyn huddled low, lowering her chin against the wind and snow as she marched through an endless field of white, Alistair, Steffen and Aberthol beside her, Krohn at her feet. The five of them had been marching for hours, ever since they had crossed the Canyon and entered the Netherworld, and Gwen was exhausted. Her muscles ached and her stomach hurt, sharp pains shooting through her every now and again as the baby moved. It was a world of white, snow falling relentlessly, whipping into her eyes, the horizon offering no reprieve. There was nothing to break up the monotony of the landscape; Gwen felt as if she were walking to the very ends of the earth.
It had become even colder, too, and despite her furs, Gwendolyn felt the cold seeping into her bones. Her hands were already numb.
She looked over and saw the others shivering, too, all fighting against the cold, and she began to wonder if she had made a grave mistake coming here. Even if Argon were here, with no markers of any sort on the horizon, how could they ever find him? There was no trail, no path, and Gwen felt a sinking sense of desperation as she had no idea where they were all heading. All she knew was that they were heading away from the Canyon, ever farther north. Even if they found Argon, how could they ever free him? Could he even be freed?
Gwen felt as if she had journeyed to a place not meant for humans, a supernatural place meant for sorcerers and druids and mysterious forces of magic she did not understand. She felt as if she were trespassing.
Gwen felt another sharp pain in her stomach, and felt the baby turn within her again and again. This one was so intense she nearly lost her breath, and she stumbled for a moment.
She felt a reassuring hand grab her wrist and steady her.
“My lady, are you all right?” Steffen asked, quickly coming to her side.
Gwen closed her eyes, breathed deep, her eyes watery from the pain, and nodded back. She stopped a moment and placed a hand on her stomach and waited. Her baby clearly was not happy to be here. Neither was she.
Gwen stood there for a few moments, breathing deeply, until the pain finally passed. She wondered again if she had been wrong to venture here; but she thought of Thor, and her desire to save him trumped all else.
They began walking again, and as the pain subsided, Gwendolyn feared not only for her baby, but for the others, too. In these conditions, she did not know how long they could all last; she did not even know if they could turn back at this point. They were stuck. This was all uncharted territory, with no map, and no end in sight.
The sky was tinged with a purple light, everything tainted in amber and violet, making her feel even more disoriented. There was no sense of day or night here. Just an endless march into nothingness.
Aberthol had been right: this was truly another world, an abyss of snow and emptiness, the most desolate place she’d ever seen.
Gwendolyn paused for a moment to catch her breath and as she did, she felt a warm, reassuring hand on her stomach, and was surprised by the heat.
She turned to see Alistair standing beside her, laying a hand on her stomach, looking over at her with concern.
“You are with child,” she said. It was more a statement than a question.
Gwendolyn stared back at her, shocked