Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [76]
“Go where?”
“To rest and peace.”
For a moment the spirit danced back and forth in the mists. When she steadied herself, the form took on more detail. Bellyra's eyes seemed to look out of the pale blue face.
“Very well,” she said. “Of course. Show me.”
“Follow me. Don't try to touch me. Just follow me.”
“I will.”
With one hand he sketched a sigil into the air. Before them a pale lavender slit opened in the dark and swirling mists, like a cut through the rind of a fruit that reveals a different-colored flesh beneath. When Nevyn waved his hand, the slit peeled back and revealed itself as a gate.
“Come with me,” he repeated, then flung himself through.
In a tunnel of midnight indigo a purple wind swirled around him. He glanced back and saw Bellyra's shade close behind him.
“Courage!” he called out.
Behind them the gate twisted and sealed itself shut. Her shade spun into the air, caught suddenly by the wind. Although she screamed and flailed, the wind bellied her form out like a sail and drove her onward, whipping her past Nevyn. He called out a reassurance and gave himself over to the wind. They fell, flew, climbed, sailed—all these at once on the violet wind—past images, faces, stars, words, animals, sigils—while the wind howled with a thousand voices, all incomprehensible. Fast, faster—until suddenly they burst out into yet another world, this one quiet and pale, where death-white flowers nodded in a lavender light.
Bellyra's soul had changed its form. As a naked child she waited for him on the banks of a white river, where something much like water yet more like mist purled and slid past in silence. The child was looking around her in gape-mouthed surprise.
“Here you'll have to go on alone,” Nevyn said. “You must cross that river.”
“I understand.” The child turned her face up and studied him for a moment. “Farewell, Nevyn. Will we meet again?”
“We will.”
“Will I meet Maryn again?”
“Perhaps. That's not for me to say. I rather hope you don't.”
With a sad nod of her head she stepped into the white water. Nevyn saw the white mists rise to cover her—then felt a wave of pain, breaking over him like fire. The scene swirled around his head like a shape painted on clouds, then disappeared. He felt himself falling, too fast, too hard, into the darkness of his body. He felt someone's hands on his face.
“It's Lord Nevyn!” a voice was saying. “The old man's fainted or suchlike.”
Every muscle of his body ached. His heart was pounding hard. Nevyn opened his eyes to the blinding light of a double lantern, held up in a manservant's hand. Other voices called out, footsteps came running.
“I'm all right,” Nevyn said. His voice rasped in a sore throat. “I'm all right. Help me up!”
The servant handed the lantern to someone in the shadows behind him, then held out both hands. Nevyn grabbed them and let the boy haul him up, then leaned against the wall to catch his breath.
“It's a terrible sad thing,” the servant said. “Losing our lady.” He burst into sobs and stood helplessly, letting the tears run.
“So it is,” Nevyn said. “I was quite overcome.”
Nevyn glanced around and saw Maryn still kneeling by Bellyra's body. Someone had brought a wide plank, and it looked as if two men were about to lift Bellyra onto it. Nevyn's entire experience in the Otherlands had taken but a few brief moments, as time runs in the world of men.
“Do you need help, my lord?” the servant said.
“I don't, but my thanks. I see my apprentice there, anyway.”
In the doorway to a great hall turned bright with torchlight Lilli stood clutching the doorjamb as if she were afraid of fainting herself. Nevyn hurried over to her, as fast as he could, at any rate, with his bruised body. Lilli looked up at him, tried to speak, and failed.
“It's not your fault in the least,” Nevyn snapped. “I know what you're thinking.”
She shook her head in a mute no, then turned and ran across the great hall. Nevyn stepped inside and watched her climbing the staircase round the far side. No doubt she was going to throw herself on her bed