Shadows Return

“I could say the same.”
    “Say what you like. You’ll be dog’s meat soon.” Turning his attention to Alec, he said, “You have stolen from me, too, Alec, and run away, but I am prepared to be somewhat merciful. Drop your sword and bring the rhekaro to me.”
    “Kiss my ass,
Ilban
!”
    Yhakobin smiled. “I believe those were the first words you spoke to me. I promise you, you’ll regret them.” He raised his hand. The two archers beside him raised their bows and took aim.
    At Seregil.
    Things went very clear and shining, the way they often did in a crisis. Seregil could see the sharp edges of the steel broadheads, and count the vanes on the shafts. He could hear the creak of the bowstrings and there was no time to run…
    Something struck him from the side, hard, and he fell. He’d been hit by an arrow before; it didn’t feel like this. Before he could figure it out, however, Alec came down on top of him, knocking the wind out of him.
    Seregil pushed at him, trying to get up, but he didn’t move. “Alec?”
    He was far too limp, and too silent. Seregil pushed himself up on his elbows. Alec lay faceup, arms still thrown wide to protect Seregil, with two arrows protruding from his chest—one near his heart, the other just below his throat.
    Mortal wounds.
    A faint gurgling sound came from his lips as blood welled there and ran down his chin. His eyes were open and already fixed, reflecting the lowering grey sky.
    He was dying.
    Alec was dying, and not even Sebrahn could help him now.
    With a ragged scream of pure rage, Seregil scrambled to his feet, gripped his sword in both bloody hands, and ran to meet his own death.
             
    Kari was lifting the lid from a kettle when a terrible chill rolled over her. She dropped the lid with a clatter and sank down on the settle.
    “What’s wrong?” Illia cried, kneeling beside her and wrapping her arms around her mother to keep her from falling. “Are you sick?”
    “No,” Kari said faintly, pressing a hand to her brow. It was wet with cold sweat that hadn’t been there a moment before. “I don’t know. A goose must have stepped on my grave—” She’d meant it lightly, but suddenly she was clutching her daughter to her breast and sobbing. “Oh my heart! Something…Where are the children? Are they safe?”
    “They’re in the yard, Mama. Please, don’t cry! They’re safe, I promise. There, you can see them through the doorway.”
    Gherin and Luthas heard the commotion and ran to her, terrified.
    “Mama, what is it?” Gherin wailed, burying his face in her skirts.
    Kari gathered both little boys into her arms with Illia, but the grief was just as strong.
Oh blessed Dalna, please! Not when he’s so far from home!
             
    In the deepest recesses of the caverns beneath the Temple at Sarikali, the Dragon Oracle laughed.
             
    Beyond the peaks called Ravensfell by the Tír, a dark-eyed half-breed woke in her hut with tears on her cheeks.
             
    The Plenimaran coastline was a dark line on the horizon sight. Micum was too restless to sit still now, and divided his time between pacing the deck and standing watch at the forward rail. It seemed that no matter how the hours passed, the land remained as far away as ever. Their captain promised that he’d have them ashore somewhere near Riga by midnight, but the winds were changing and Micum could tell that he and the mate were worried.
    And once we get there, where to start?
Micum wondered, admitting to himself at last what he could never say to Thero.
    Just then the wind went colder and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Turning slowly, he gripped the rail in one hand to keep from staggering. “Oh Illior, no!”
             
    Chilled and discouraged, Thero had retired to their cabin to rest. Despite all his assurances to Micum, he knew it might be impossible to find them, even if they were able to get ashore. Every sighting had failed. It was as if Alec was veiled from sight. And Illior only knew what their reception at Riga would be, even with the Gedre traders to vouch for them.
    Lying on the narrow bunk, he threw an arm across his eyes, hating this feeling of helplessness. He could only imagine Micum’s agony; the look of disappointment in his eyes, every time Thero failed with his magic, haunted him. To lose Seregil and Alec like this, never knowing what had become of them…
    To fail them like this!
    He sat up, blinking away