The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [266]
There was one more figure they hadn't seen; his black robe blended with the twilight. He approached Grace—slowly, hand pressed to his side—and the webwork of scars on his face glowed in the half-light.
“Master Larad?” Grace stuttered, completely confused. “How are you here?”
He said nothing, but only gestured to his black robe.
Confusion gave way to cold understanding. “You,” Grace said softly. “You're the other Runebreaker. You broke the rune of sky and let him back into the world. That was the shadow that fell over us, right before the end. It was Mohg.”
“Yes,” Larad said, pain twisting his face. “It was.”
“But you stopped him, Travis.” She clutched his arm. “You must have, or none of us would be here. You stopped Mohg from breaking the First Rune. Only how?”
A queer light shone in Travis's gray eyes.
“I'll tell you how he did it,” Grisla said with another cackle. “He broke the First Rune himself, that's how.” She jabbed a bony finger at his chest. “Bones and stone, that showed him, lad! Mohg wasn't ready for that.”
Grace stared at Travis, trying to understand. Only maybe she didn't need to. Travis was here, and so were the rest of them. So was the world. That was all that mattered.
“The witches were right,” Aryn said to Travis, her blue eyes wide. “You really were the Runebreaker. Yet if that's so, how are we still here?”
“He chose the world that was!” Grisla said gleefully. She capered about in a circle and chortled as if this all were a grand joke. “For the world to be, he chose the world that was! He's the Worldsmith now!”
Grace reached up and touched his face. His beard was coming in, copper and gold flecked with gray. “Is it true, Travis? Did you really choose this world?”
He gripped the bone talisman that hung against his neck. “Hope. I chose hope, Grace.”
It was growing colder and darker; all the same none of them could move from that place. More questions were asked. In quick words Melia, Falken, Vani, and Beltan explained what had happened to them, and Aryn, Teravian, and Tarus did the same. On Eldh, Shemal and Kelephon were dead, along with their master the Pale King. On Earth, Duratek was doomed. However, there was one thing Grace didn't have the heart to speak of yet; she didn't tell them about Durge.
“What about Mohg?” Vani said, gazing up at the deepening sky. “Is he dead as well?”
Grisla gave Travis a piercing look. “Well, lad. Is he?”
Travis seemed to think for a long moment, then he sighed. “No, he's not dead. But he's . . . dispersed. He was right there when it happened, when the—” He swallowed. “—when I used the Great Stones to break the First Rune. I think he was torn apart by the force of it.”
“That he was, my lad,” Grisla said. “Mohg remains in the world, but only his spirit, not his hatred, not his will. Never will he gather himself again.” She looked up at the darkening sky. “Night still comes. There will always be darkness in the world, there will always be evil. But dawn will come again, at least tomorrow.”
Grace smiled at Travis. “Hope,” she said.
Though the expression was tentative and fragile, he returned her smile.
Falken moved to Grisla, giving the old woman a sharp look. “If you don't mind my saying, you seem to know an awful lot for a simple hag. How did you know Travis broke the First Rune?”
She shrugged knobby shoulders. “It was a lucky guess, Your Nosiness.”
“I think not,” Melia said, gliding forward, her catlike eyes gleaming. “You were not there in Imbrifale with us. So how could you know?”
Kel roared with laughter, slapping his thigh, the sound of his mirth ringing out over the vale. “Well, it looks as if the bard and the moon lady have finally got you, hag. Don't you think it's time you finally told them who you really are?”
She scowled at the petty king. “What are you talking about, Your Deludedness? I'm Grisla, your witch.”
Kel's laughter subsided, and his face grew unusually thoughtful. “In one of your guises, yes. But you are other things to other people, are you not? Don't look at me that way. I am not quite the simpleton