The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [268]
“Will you stay?” Grace said to the woman with many faces, though she wasn't certain if she meant here, at Gravenfist, or if she meant in the world.
The woman's face blurred, and she was Grisla again. She grinned, baring her one tooth, but there was sorrow in her eye. “Perhaps I'll stay for a time, Your High-And-Mightiness. But my children have already gone on before me, back into the Twilight Realm. This time, when we go, we shall never return, and I think the Maugrim shall come with us. No one will remain who knows the way through the mists. Our world, our time, will be removed from yours forever.”
Grace wept. “Why? Why are you leaving us?”
“There, there, daughter.” She brushed the dampness from Grace's cheeks. “I am old. We are old. And the world has newer gods. Look—here comes the newest of them all even now.”
They turned as ruby-colored light pushed back the gloom. Three figures walked toward them from the direction of the keep, hand in hand. One was a man with coppery eyes, a grin on his handsome, familiar face, though he walked on two feet, not one. The other was a beautiful woman with black hair and eyes and skin like polished ebony. Between them was a child clad only in a gray shift, her hair wild and fiery. It was from the girl that the light emanated.
“Lirith!” Aryn called out. “Sareth!”
But Grace called out another name. “Tira!”
The little girl slipped her hands free and dashed forward on bare feet. Grace knelt and caught Tira in her arms.
“You came back,” she said, even though she knew she hadn't. All the same, it felt good to say it. She stroked the girl's wild hair.
“I love you,” Tira said in a solemn voice.
The crimson light grew stronger, encapsulating Grace in warmth. Then it dimmed and Grace held, not her warm little body, but shadows. She stood and looked up. A star shone in the southern sky, bright as a ruby. A fierce ache throbbed in Grace's chest, but it was a good pain. It meant that somehow, after all that had happened, her heart was still there.
It meant she was alive.
“Come on, Grace.” It was Travis. He touched her arm. “It's getting cold. We should go inside.”
They started back toward the keep, and as they went Grace noticed how Travis and Beltan stayed close to Vani's side. Though they had not spoken of it, it was clear both men knew the T'gol was with child. Grace wondered what would happen to them, but for now the three seemed content to walk close together. As for what the future held—if Fate would allow them to stay together—that could wait for tomorrow.
Other things could not wait, and as they walked Grace finally told them about Durge, though Aryn had to help her, and when one was too overwhelmed by grief the other would speak for a time. However, neither Grace nor Aryn mentioned what Durge had revealed to them: how he had loved Aryn. It was a private thing. The young baroness had married Teravian out of duty, and she had not resisted. However, the knowledge that Durge had wanted her not for her position, but simply for herself, was like a secret jewel she could treasure in lonely times to come.
Then Grace saw the way Teravian's hand brushed against Aryn's, and despite her sorrow she smiled. Perhaps there would not be so many lonely times in Aryn's future after all.
“There's one thing I don't understand,” Beltan said as they drew near the secret passage. It was lit with torches against the night, and guards stood at the entrance.
“What is it?” Grace asked him.
The blond man scratched his chin. “Well, Travis broke the First Rune, just as prophecy said he would. But prophecy also said the Warriors of Vathris were destined to lose the Final Battle.”
“We did,” Sir Tarus said. “The army of the Pale King had us trapped in front of the keep's wall. They were about to crush us. Victory was theirs.”
“We could not have defeated them,” Teravian agreed.
Aryn glanced at Travis. “Only then the Pale King died, and without Mohg to help them, so did his slaves.”
Grace thought about this. “That doesn't change the fact that we lost.