A long, rough-hewn table mounded with scrolls and parchments dominated the center of the chamber. Karigan wondered what treasures of information these might hold, but a single glance assured her she would never know, for they were written in the old tongue.
Lil Ambrioth was pacing, and the king watched her with his arms folded across his chest. They were in a heated discussion, but about what, Karigan had a difficult time deciphering, for their dialect was archaic. Gradually, she began to pick up on words, and finally whole sentences.
“The intelligence is reliable,” Lil insisted. “He’s breaking with Mornhavon.”
“Rumors,” the king said. “You cannot believe rumors.”
Lil made a frustrated sound in her throat. She was a powerful presence as she swept back and forth across the room. Suddenly she halted and gazed out the window. “More than rumors. He wants to meet with me.”
“No!” The king’s response was ferocious, and Karigan saw fear in his eyes. “I won’t have it.”
Lil turned to him, and when she spoke, her voice was lower, more intense. “Eight Riders died to bring me this information. How many more lives will it take before we have another chance like this—a chance we may never get again? How many more children born in war will grow up never to know peace? How many children will never know their parents because they’ve been slain on the field of battle? The orphan camps are overwhelmed, but I suppose when the children grow, they’ll be arrow fodder, able to carry a sword against Mornhavon. Like me.”
“I want to see this war ended just as much as you,” the king said gruffly.
“You want to see this war ended, hey? Well this may be how we do it. Hadriax el Fex has broken with Mornhavon, wants to see the atrocities ended. Think of the intelligence he’d give us that we could turn against Mornhavon. It will turn the tide of war. El Fex has been Mornhavon’s most trusted confidant, his closest companion.”
“Exactly my point,” the king said. “I do not trust him. It’s a trap—I know it is. Mornhavon hates you.”
Lil bared her teeth into a feral smile. “With good reason. I hope bringing his friend to our side will only make him hate me more.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.”
Lil threw her arms into the air. “You stubborn fool. We could end this war.”
“Or lose one of its greatest heroes for nothing.” The king’s expression was fierce, but softened. “I don’t want to lose you, Liliedhe Ambriodhe.”
“You will sooner or later, if this war goes on.”
“Hush.” The king drew her into his arms, pressing her cheek against his. “We will prevail.”
Lil leaned into him, wrapping her arms about him. “You are still a stubborn fool.”
“Am I now? Perhaps to love you.”
Karigan’s cheeks heated as the embrace grew steadily more intimate, and she bumped into the table, knocking over a pile of scrolls. Before she realized what she was doing, she caught one before it rolled off the table. The king and Lil broke their embrace and looked her way, though they could not see her.
“Who is there?” Lil demanded.
King Jonaeus’ sword rang out of its sheath. “Reveal yourself, mage! Only a coward stays cloaked in invisibility.”
The First Rider touched her brooch. Karigan’s own brooch seemingly stabbed her and she cried out in pain. She fell back as though jerked from behind, and the traveling began all over again.
Lil Ambrioth and King Jonaeus bled into an oblivion of streaming lights. Voices screamed by at an incomprehensible velocity, only to fade into some void of distance. Through light and dark she traveled, yet she never moved.
The traveling lasted longer this time, and she began to wonder, with rising panic, if it would ever stop, and if it did, where—or when—she’d end up.
She closed her eyes as air currents blew across her face, fresh then musty, cold then warm, damp then dry and smoky.
When the sense of motion ceased, she opened her eyes to black. To emptiness. To silence. Silence except for the throbbing of her own heart.
Had she returned to where and when she had begun? How could she know? As she sat there wondering what to do, a heavy cold settled over her, like the mantle of winter. It seeped into her flesh and she shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering.
A dim light began to define the doorway of the chamber she was in, first softly, faintly, then growing steadily stronger. She forced her chattering to stop, and she heard light footfalls.
“Hello?” she called, but there was no reply.
The light grew bright enough that it leaked into the chamber itself. At its source was a lamp, and a face that peered in. Karigan gazed at herself. Startled, she could say nothing.
Her other self raised the lamp and squinted as if to see something.
A figure paused in the doorway just behind her. Dressed in black, he faded mostly into the corridor beyond, even though he carried a lamp of his own. Fastion!
“Reliving memories?” he asked.
Her other self did not answer. She seemed too far away in her thoughts, perhaps indeed, reliving memories.
Fastion left the doorway. “This way, Rider.”
Her other self did not follow immediately, but licked her lips and glanced back into the room. “Hang on,” she said into the darkness, a quaver in her voice.
Whom was she addressing? Herself? Was her other self aware of her presence?
“You’ve come too far forward—you must go back,” she said, then turned from the doorway.