The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [26]
She had only given him a shy smile, then had run off and buried her half-scarred face in Grace's skirts.
Some things ought to be broken, a raspy voice echoed in his mind.
Brother Cy. That was what the strange preacher had said in Castle City. Travis knew now that Cy and Samanda and Mirrim were all Old Gods. They had helped lure Mohg beyond the circle of Eldh a thousand years ago, and they were trapped there with him when the way was shut. Only then Travis had traveled back to Castle City, to the year 1883, and his Sinfathisar came in contact with the version carried by Jack Graystone. Two copies of the Stone couldn't be in the same place at the same time, and a rift was opened, allowing Mohg and Cy to slip into Earth. And, decades later, the Pale King's forces as well, along with the infant who would grow to be Grace Beckett.
Travis rubbed his aching neck. What had Brother Cy meant? He found himself thinking of Beltan's words from a few days earlier. Sometimes, when something's ruined, the only way to repair it is to destroy it first.
But a world wasn't the same thing as a building, and Travis was not going to destroy Eldh, no matter what the prophecies of witches and dragons said.
He watched the men work for a while more. One thing was certain: The attack on Calavere meant that war was no longer coming; it had already begun. King Boreas had sent messengers all over his Dominion, calling for a muster. Even now, his barons, dukes, earls, and knights would be readying for battle and preparing to march to Calavere. Boreas had sent messengers to the rulers of the other Dominions as well, reminding them of the pact they had made over a year ago at the Council of Kings. He had even sent word to Tarras.
Travis shivered. The sun had edged close to the top of the castle wall. He slipped down from his perch and started back toward the keep. Near the archway that led to the upper bailey, he ran into Aryn.
“Hello,” he said, startling her. She had been absorbed, watching the men work as he had. She blinked and turned toward him.
“Travis, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.”
Her gaze moved again to the broken wall and the workers, and a frown shadowed her face.
“What is it?” he said.
“Have you ever had the feeling you've seen something before, even when you know you haven't?”
“We call it déjà vu where I come from. What is it you feel like you've seen before?”
“This.” She gestured to the ruined towers. “It all seems so familiar to me. I'm sure I've seen it before, or something like it. Only that's impossible, isn't it?”
Travis ran a hand through his short red-brown hair. “Since I came to Eldh, I've learned that impossible only means just hasn't happened yet.”
That won a soft laugh. “I imagine you're right. We've seen so many things I would have thought impossible a year ago.” She smiled at him, only then the expression fled, and her eyes turned a deeper shade of blue, like the darkening sky. “Sometimes it's so hard to believe that you would . . .”
Travis swallowed the lump in his throat. “That I would what?”
“We should be going inside.”
He moved closer to her. “You have to tell them I'm here, don't you? Ivalaine and the Witches. They think I'm going to destroy Eldh, that I'm Runebreaker—the one they've been looking for—and now you have to tell them you've found me.”
Her face was an ivory mask of determination, but she was trembling, and something told him it was not only because of the cold.
“So you aren't going to tell them about me.” His words fogged on the air. “The dragon was right. He said you would betray your sisters.”
“Maybe I already have.” She crossed her arms, hunching her shoulders. “Did not Falken say dragons always speak truth?”
Yes, and the dragon had also said Travis was doomed to destroy the world.
“I heard Grace and Lirith talking yesterday,” he said after a moment. “I heard them say you're powerful. Maybe more powerful than any other witch alive.”
“What does that mean?” she murmured, and he had the feeling the question was