The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [15]
They brought their horses to a halt. Grace didn't wait for Durge to help her, but instead slid from the saddle and raced forward.
“Aryn!” She caught the baroness in a tight hug. The young woman returned the embrace with her left arm.
“Grace, you're here—you're really here!”
Talking long distance over the Weirding had been wonderful, but it couldn't compare to this—the real, living touch of someone she loved.
Grace was aware of the others crowding around. Falken was whirling Melia in an embrace, and Melia was actually laughing. She heard Boreas's booming voice, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Sir Tarus hesitate, then grip Beltan's arms, his expression full of warmth.
For so long they had all been apart, lost in different lands and on different worlds. Now, at last, they were all where they belonged—here, together. For that moment, Grace let herself believe they would never be apart again.
At last, reluctantly, she pulled away from Aryn and turned to greet the king.
“It's about time you paid your obeisance, my lady,” Boreas said with a snort, hands on his hips.
“Greetings, Your Majesty.” Grace curtsied, and with only a slight wobble. When she rose, she was surprised to see the king's smile gone and a thoughtful look in his eyes. “What is it, Your Majesty?”
“Nothing,” he said, his voice gruff, “save that I'm not certain it's you who should be paying obeisance. Your Majesty.” He started to move, as if he would kneel before her.
Grace stared, horror flooding her. Boreas was so bold, so proud. He was a king, and she didn't believe there was a stronger man on this or any world. He should never bow before her, no matter what dead kingdom she was supposedly the queen of.
She opened her mouth to stop him, but her words were lost in a peal of thunder.
A shock wave hit her, and a ringing sounded in her ears, shrill as a siren, transporting her for a moment back to the Emergency Department at Denver Memorial Hospital. How many times had she heard that wail approaching as she stood in the ambulance entrance, waiting to put broken people back together? The lightning must have hit close.
Except, last she noticed, the sky had been clear.
Another deafening boom ripped through the air, and it wasn't thunder. She heard cries of dismay, and Beltan swore an oath as he pointed. However, by then Grace already saw it: A white cloud of dust and smoke billowed up from the base of the castle's southeastern tower. It shuddered once, then with beautiful slowness slumped and fell over, sliding down the hill in a heap of rubble.
5.
Travis couldn't hear.
People were shouting all around him, but their mouths moved in silence. A suffocating pall enveloped him, like the time he was bound to the null stone outside the Gray Tower of the Runespeakers, and ancient magic had kept him from speaking the runes that would free him.
Beltan and Durge grabbed for the reins of the horses, which were stamping and bucking. Lirith hurried over, moving among the animals, pressing a hand against their necks. As she touched them, the horses grew calmer, though their eyes were still wild. Boreas seemed to be shouting at the guardsmen. Travis couldn't hear what he was saying, though it seemed the men did, for they turned and dashed back through the castle gate, Sir Tarus with them. The king turned around, and his expression was not one of confusion or shock, but one of fury.
The rest of them watched, motionless, as the remains of the stone tower careened down the slope of the hill on which Calavere was built. Although he appeared as surprised as anyone, there was a look of fascination on Prince Teravian's face. Aryn's eyes were shut, but whether it was because she could not bear to witness this sight, or for some other purpose, Travis didn't know.
Like a rockslide in the Colorado mountains, the wreckage of the tower poured over a stretch of the road that led up to the castle. As far as Travis could tell, no one was caught in its path. A few stray blocks