First Rider's Call

With the warmth, the deathly pallor of Karigan’s cheeks gave way to a faint pink blush. She watched the flames on Mara’s hand in wonder, this uncommon display not lost on her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Mara had never demonstrated her ability to the others. They knew about it, but there had never been a legitimate reason to simply call on the flames. It was too powerful a thing to use lightly. It was powerful, but even she could not imagine its depth. Sometimes she felt like some great well from which power could flow unquenchable.

“Fastion,” Mara said, “we should get Karigan someplace warm.”

“Of course.”

Mara had to admire his discipline. It was not often one witnessed raw magic. She guessed it would take a visit by the gods to shake him from his rock-solid foundation, and even then she had her doubts.

“Does it hurt?” he asked her.

Mara chuckled that his curiosity overrode that discipline. “No, but if I started off a campfire, then reached into the flames of it, it would burn me as any fire would you.”

“I see.”

They assisted Karigan to her feet. She seemed all right, if a little unsteady, and her features were drawn with the pain of her headache. Mara felt fortunate that the worst aftereffect of using her own ability was a mild fever. She extinguished the flames with a thought, and they left the chamber at a slow walk.

CASTLE TOP

Karigan awoke in a strange bed. She was buried beneath a pile of blankets, with a bunch of hard, warm lumps settled against her side. Rocks? She felt around herself. Yes, rocks. Stove-warmed rocks to stave off a winter’s chill. Winter? Had she somehow slept through the last of summer and autumn?

Impossible.

With a pang of fear, she realized it might not be, the memory of her journey to the past—and future—just returning. Maybe she’d been drawn too far into the future and had lost months of her life to the traveling. What if it really was winter?

And those thoughts brought a flurry of memories of the traveling, and of Fastion and Mara flaring like beings of light, drawing her out of the dark. She had been so very cold. She remembered Fastion leading the way through dark passages, or did this belong to some older memory? In any case, she recalled little else after they had found her.

Now here she was, in a strange bed. Drapes were drawn across a small window, leaving the chamber in a gray light that dimpled across the grainy texture of stone walls.

Stone walls—maybe she’d been trapped in time after all. What was this place?

She fought the layers of blankets, which shifted the rocks, making them clink together.

Her right arm stabbed with pain at her fussing. The left was oddly stiff and cold. She laid back, breathing hard.

Think.

If she had been in as bad shape as she felt when Mara and Fastion found her, it wasn’t likely they’d have dragged her all the way back to Rider barracks. It would have been easier to leave her at the castle. She sniffed the air, and caught a whiff of the herby scent that usually pervaded the mending wing. It made sense.

She nestled down into the blankets, calmer now, grimacing at a rock that had wedged itself uncomfortably into the small of her back. She didn’t feel too bad, though there was the lingering residue of a monster headache, and her gnawing stomach, not to mention a growing desire to use the chamber pot. The pull of sleep, however, proved stronger. She was so tired, drained to the core.

She began to drift off, her eyes drooping, when she saw a tiny flutter of light at the foot of her bed. She blinked, but saw nothing, and so began to sink into sleep again.

—hold them together.

“Hunh?” Karigan dreamed she opened her eyes and saw the ghostly figure of Lil Ambrioth standing at the foot of her bed. An otherworldly phosphorescence defined small details of her features—the curve of her lips, a tendril of tawny hair, the glow of a golden brooch, but the gray light of the chamber absorbed far more of her than was revealed.

Lil was speaking to her, but few of the words were able to pass whatever barrier existed between the living and the dead.

—always in bed, Lil said, with what sounded like a note of exasperation. Dreams were funny that way, causing the characters within the dream to do and say things that made little sense.

The door will close shortly, Lil continued. —must be quick. The Riders are—You must hold them together.

When Karigan did not respond, Lil began sweeping back and forth across the room in agitation, a luminous blur. She spoke rapidly, and Karigan could not understand any of it. Moments later, like a candleflame blown out, Lil faded away.

Some final words emerged from nothingness: Hold them together, hey?

The dream ended, and Karigan closed her eyes, falling asleep for real this time.

Sometime later, Karigan awoke again, overheated and sweating from all the blankets piled on her. Her need to use the chamber pot was overwhelming her. She kicked off the blankets and attended to her needs.

Afterward, she padded about the room checking out her surroundings. A more golden light suffused the drapes now. She threw them open, squinting her eyes at the day, wondering exactly what day it was. At least it wasn’t winter! Whatever the answer, the rainstorm was long gone, and had left behind a brilliant blue sky.

The window looked out upon the north castle grounds. Down below were the kennels, more stables, and out-buildings. Guards moved upon the wall that surrounded the castle grounds, and beyond on the horizon, the Green Cloak Forest rose up on rounded hills and tucked into deep green folds of valleys.