Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [97]
"Revenge is not why I go."
When Gylther'yel did not reply, Walker turned to look at her. In her shadowy gown, untouched by the rain that drenched Walker, the sun elf looked radiant in the half light-a creature of beauty that did not belong in a scene of such misery and destruction.
He noticed that, surprisingly, the spirit of Tarm Thardeyn had not fled at her approach. Instead, his father stood calmly next to his grave, saying nothing. Walker took strength from his courage.
"You would not understand," said Walker. "I will go." He started toward Red-Hair.
With a growl, Gylther'yel caught Walker's arm and held it with the strength of an enraged grizzly bear.
"You will not," she said, her face drawn in rage and her eyes glowing crimson in the storm's light.
The ghostwalker looked back at her, his eyes wide with surprise. Since when had she touched him? To his knowledge, she never had.
He felt visions coming to him, flowing from her touch. Her psychic resonance, showing him her memories…
A dark night, laughter-the night of his death. Words… "Whether you will or no."
As though remembering herself, she released Walker's arm and backed away. Her face was calm, but her eyes remained furious.
"I forbid you to go."
What vision had he seen?
"You have no control over me any more," said Walker without emotion.
"I am your master and you are my champion," argued Gylther'yel with steel in her voice.
"You sent killers after me, and you yet believe that?" Walker's voice seemed to cut Gylther'yel like a knife, but the ghost druid regained control in an instant.
"I sent them to kill that little harlot of a knight, not you, of course," said Gylther'yel with a dismissive wave. "It was for your own good-she was leading you astray, diverting you from your path. I am not about to throw away the fifteen years of work I spent on you, training and arming you, teaching you the powers you and I alone share-"
"But do you love me, Gylther'yel?"
The question set her back on her heels. For the first time Walker could remember, the ghost druid was speechless. Gylther'yel mouthed words, but no sound came out. She looked at Walker as though at a maddened animal.
Walker nodded sadly. "As I thought." He walked toward Red-Hair's corpse.
"You turn your back on me, on everything I have taught you, on the years we have spent together, running the forest as mother and son, all because you feel neglected? Oh I'm sorry, you spoiled child!" Gylther'yel spat. "Love is not of nature, but is human artifice! You are better without it! The way I made you!"
Walker did not look at her. "Farewell, Gylther'yel," he said. Walker arrived at Red-Hair's corpse, sent the man's spirit away, and nodded, finding this one to his liking. He crouched down and began pulling off the man's clothes.
The ghost druid stared at him in shock.
"After all I have done for you. Even after I forgave you the female…"
With a grimace, Walker tore away the tattered remains of his tunic and slipped the Quaervarr watch uniform over his head. Then he strapped the sword belt around his waist.
Understanding seemed to dawn on Gylther'yel, and she stepped in Walker's way as he turned.
"Then she is what this is all about!" she said. "Do not bother. Meris and his men probably dispatched her quickly, as soon as they had enjoyed her to the fullest. Your heroism is amusing, but there is no one left to save."
"She lives." It was a statement of fact.
"How can you know that?"
"Her spirit is not here with me," said Walker with a shrug. "So she has not died."
Gylther'yel looked around then eyed him curiously.
"Why do you expect her spirit to be with you?" the ghost druid asked.
Walker looked at her. "She loves me," he stated. "And I love her."
Gylther'yel had no reply except to stare at him in shock.
Gliding around her, Walker crossed to the patch of grass where he and Arya had lain together and pulled something from a low fir branch. With a flourish, he threw his black cloak over his shoulder