The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [190]
She had thought it would be dark inside. It was not. A soft, metallic radiance hung on the air, although where it came from she could not say. The trailer was a jumble of large steel crates. Many of them had shifted and tumbled over in the truck’s rapid stop.
A low moan rose on the air. Grace turned, then she saw it. Something stretched forth from a hole in one of the crates. It was a hand.
The word erupted from Travis in a roar. “Beltan!”
He and Grace reached the box at the same time.
Grace gripped the knight’s big, bony hand. “Beltan, we’re here. We’ll find a way—”
—to open the crate, she was going to say, but there was no need. This time Travis shouted the rune.
“Urath!”
The door of the crate flew open. Whatever was affecting his rune magic, it was even stronger now.
Grace let go of the hand. It disappeared back through the hole. Then, slowly, shakily, something unfolded itself from the crate and stretched upward: a tall, pale, gaunt but blessedly familiar figure.
He grinned in the dim light, and despite the sunkeness of cheeks, despite his scraggly beard and the bruises beneath his eyes, in that moment his homely visage became so brilliant and beautiful it took Grace’s breath away.
“Beltan,” Travis said, his voice a whisper now.
The knight’s grin shifted into a faint frown. “By Vathris, what’s happened to you, Travis Wilder?”
And tears streamed down Grace’s cheeks as Travis caught the big man in a fierce embrace.
63.
Travis tightened his arms around Beltan. Always before, the blond knight had seemed so strong, so invincible. Now, beneath the white lab coat, Beltan felt thin and terribly brittle. Travis knew he could easily pick the knight up in his arms and carry him if need be. But maybe that was all right. Maybe he was the protector now.
“Travis,” Beltan said, his voice hoarse. “Travis, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Grace cast them a nervous look from her position by the open door of the trailer. “We should get going.”
“She’s right,” Travis said, starting to pull away. “It isn’t safe here. We can talk later.”
Somewhere outside gunfire sounded.
“No, it can’t wait.”
Beltan gripped his shoulders. Despite their thinness, there was a hot strength in the knight’s hands, holding Travis in place. Beltan struggled for words, his green eyes bright.
“In the baths, at Spardis, I … I told you I wasn’t sorry. But I only did that because I thought I was going to … I know you haven’t heard the call and … and I’m sorry, Travis. I’m sorry that I—”
“No.” Travis spoke the word firmly, a command. “No, don’t you dare be sorry, Beltan. No one should ever be sorry for loving someone.”
Beltan stared, his gaunt visage stricken.
“Yes, you surprised me a little.” A small laugh escaped Travis. “Okay, truth be told, more than a little. But it’s all right. I’ve had time to think about it. And while I’m still not sure I understand how I managed to deserve it, it doesn’t matter. I know that now.” The words burned in Travis’s mind, as clear as runes. Yes, this was how it was meant to be. “You see, Beltan, I—”
The light streaming from the rear of the truck dimmed, and a lithe silhouette appeared against the gray opening. Travis turned. Gold eyes locked on his. Startled, he stepped away from Beltan.
“The guards are pressing toward us,” Vani said, moving into the trailer. “There are not many—I do not believe they expected pursuit. I imagine they thought the gorleths at their fortress would destroy us. All the same, the weapons of Davis and Mitchell cannot hold them off for long. We must hurry.”
The knight’s green eyes narrowed as he gazed at Vani. “Who is she?”
“She’s …” Travis licked his lips.
Vani rested her hands on her half-cocked hips, her gaze a mystery.
“This is Vani,” Grace said. “She’s a … a warrior from Eldh, and we owe our lives to her.”
Beltan seemed to study her, then he nodded. “Then I owe my life to you as well. Vani.”
Her gaze moved to Travis, then back to Beltan. “Your thanks may be premature, knight of Calavan. Come, we must go.”
“Wait,” Beltan said. “We can’t leave yet. There’s someone