The Blood Knight - J. Gregory Keyes [16]
She had journeyed beyond the world before, or at least beyond her part of it. Most often she had been to the place of the Faiths, which was sometimes a forest, sometimes a glen, sometimes a highland meadow. Once she had taken Austra there with her to escape some murderous knights.
The place she had gone with the dying man was different. Had it been the land of the dead or only the borderlands? She remembered that the land of the dead was supposed to have two rivers—though she couldn’t remember why—but here there had been more than two; there had been thousands.
And the Briar King. He had been shackled by those waters, or at least they were trying to bind him. What did that mean? And who was he?
He had communicated something to her, not with words, but his desire had been clear nonetheless. How did he even know who she was?
The face of the demon-woman flashed through her memory, and terror tremored freshly through her. Was that who followed her? She remembered the Faiths telling her that the law of death had been broken, whatever that meant. Had she committed some crime against the saints and brought death after her?
Red-gold sun suddenly spilled like a waterfall through the upper branches, and with terrible relief she suddenly realized that the briars had ended. Not much farther ahead the trees thinned to nothing as well, giving way to a sweeping, endless field of yellowed grass. With a mixed shout of fear and triumph, she spurred Prespine out into the open and felt the creeping presence behind her diminish, slinking back into the thorn shadows where it was comfortable.
Tears sprang in Anne’s eyes as her hood fell away and the wind raked through her breviated hair. The sun was just above the horizon, an orange eye half-lidded by clouds bruised upon a golden west. The glorious color faded into a vesperine heaven so dark blue, she almost imagined that it was water, that she could swim up into and hide in its depths with its odd bright fish and be safe far above the world.
The clouds were mostly gone, the snow had stopped, and everything seemed better. But until the forest was a thinning line behind her, Anne kept Prespine at a run. Then she brought her to a walk and patted the mare’s neck, feeling the great pulse beating there, nearly in time with her own.
It was still cold; indeed, it felt colder than when the snow had been falling.
Where was she? Anne swept her gaze about the unfamiliar landscape, trying to conjure up some sort of bearings. She never had paid much attention to the maps her tutors had shown her when she was younger. She’d been regretting that for several months now.
The sunset marked the west, of course. The plain sloped gradually down from the forest, so she could see for some distance. In the east, the dusk glimmered on a broad river across which, far away, she could see the black line of more trees. The river curved north and vanished into the horizon.
Nearer, she happily made out the spire of what must be a bell tower. The landscape in that direction seemed pimpled with tiny hills, which after a moment she realized must be haystacks.
She paused for a long moment, watching the distant signs of civilization, her feelings clouding a bit. A town meant people, and people meant food, shelter, warmth, companionship. It could also mean danger; the man who had attacked her—he must have attacked her—had come from somewhere. This was the first place she had seen that might explain him.
And where were Austra and the rest? Behind her, in front of her—or dead?
She took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in her shoulders.
She had been talking to Cazio, and everything had been fine. Then she had been alone with a dying man. The most logical assumption was that somehow he had abducted her, but why couldn’t she remember how it had happened?
Even trying to think about it brought a sudden panic that threatened to cloud all other thoughts from her mind.
She pushed that away and concentrated on the present. If her friends were alive,