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board a cramped ship tossing its way across the world, I intend to have you here, in the wind, on solid
ground. I'll be denied no longer. I want to make some boulders fall into the sea." He patted one of a pair
of large rocks that formed a V near the promontory's edge.
Rhapsody wrapped her arms around her waist, her eyes darting all around her.
One should beware the Past, lady. It seeks to have you; it seeks to aid you.
It seeks to destroy you.
The seneschal saw her, and his face hardened into an angular, malevolent mask.
'There is no escape, Rhapsody. You have run out of excuses and diversions. This is going to happen
now. Resign yourself to it; you know the way this works." He pulled off his cloak and tossed it on the
rocky ground.
'Spread out and block the wide edge of the precipice," he said to the five remaining men. They moved
into position in a straight line, blocking the area where the promontory connected to the land.
'Light, m'lord," called one of the bowmen. He was staring down the path where the reeve had
descended.
The seneschal tossed Rhapsody to the ground, her back to the promontory's edge, her face to the line
of soldiers, then crossed to the south end of the promontory and looked over the edge to where a tiny
flicker of lanternlight waved back in forth in the oncoming dark.
'Fergus has found the switchback," he said to the men. "Good. All right then." He turned to take a
step back onto the promontory.
Just in time to see Rhapsody lunge for the cliffs edge.
 For a split second he and the others stood in shock as she bolted for the end of the promontory. Then
a harsh sound of fury tore forth from his throat.
'Stop! Stop her!"
Caius fired; Rhapsody lurched forward, a few paces from the edge, the bolt lodged in her sword belt.
Bent over at the waist, wincing in pain, she saw the guards running toward her. She met Michael's eye
for the last time.
Then threw herself over the edge of the cliff and into the sea.
Q)or a long moment, the only sound that was heard on the promontory was the howl of the gusting
wind.
Then, a moment later, a scream of rage, dual in its origin, rocked the cliff, the harsh tones of the
thwarted demon blending discordantly with the rage of a psychotically cruel, unstable man who had been
denied the prize he had crossed the ocean to reclaim. It was a sound horrifying enough to make more
than one of the hired mercenaries lose control of their water.
The wind rose in response to the scream of anger, blasting the promontory, shaking loose a hail of
rock and causing it to rain in great dusty sheets down into the roiling sea.
The seneschal ran to the cliff edge, his muscles thick and corded as he moved, and peered down into
the crashing waves that were battering the base of the volcanic rockwalls a hundred feet below. There
was no sign of her; he had hoped against hope to see her clinging to the rocks, or washing out to sea on
the violent tide, but there was nothing but the endless ebb and flow of blue-gray water, foaming with
turgid froth, swirling in the dark light of dusk.
He threw back his head and screamed at the sky.
Noooooooooooooooooo!
The malodor of the demon, the reek of burning flesh, rose into the wind, making the soldiers gag and
tremble as sparks of black fire erupted into the air.
They peered over the edge of the precipice themselves, searching in the fading light for a sign of the
woman below, but all they could see and hear was the relentless pounding of the angry surf against the
rockwalls, the black tide swelling away from the volcanic cliffs, churning back to the sea in a wicked
undertow.
The seneschal was clutching his head, writhing, as though locked in battle with an unseen spirit that
was gouging at him. The soldiers, frightened now, hedged together, looking to each other for direction; in
the absence of the reeve, there was no subleader to turn to.
Finally the seneschal jerked upright and glared at them.
'What are you waiting for?" he demanded, his voice crackling with rage. "Get down there, you fools!
Comb the beach, search the rocks find her!"
'M'lord " one of the bowman began.
 The wind shrieked in fury as die seneschal snapped his arm in the man's direction and made an angry,
sweeping gesture toward the edge of the precipice; a gale-force gust swept the man up from behind and
heaved him over the promontory's edge. His scream was lost in the cry of the wind as he fell. The others
could not help but notice his body bounce off the jagged black rocks that lay about the bottom of die cliff
below, die waves seething over them, to be sucked a moment later into the depths by the undertow.
The seneschal watched as well, studying the course the body took. Then he turned and eyed the men
again.
"Find her."
The men scattered, hurrying down the path to the switchback that die reeve had lighted a few
moments before.
Michael stood in the screaming wind, staring down into the roiling water. The waves undulated like
the grass in the Wide Meadows had, the grass diat for more than a millennium reminded him naggingly of
her hair, prodding him with memories made all die more aggravating by futility.
For this we traveled across the world. What a colossal waste.
'Silence!" die seneschal screamed, clawing at his own face. "Do not torture me with your smug
insights. You knownothing.'"
I see nothing as well, nothing but surf and rocks.
The veins in Michael's neck corded thickly, his face hot with fury.
'Would you care to see them close up?" he snarled, stepping closer to the cliffs edge. "For I have lost
the only thing I wanted. Life unending has suddenly become a burden. Perhaps we should follow her into
the sea. Would that please you, you self-satisfied parasite?"
The demon went suddenly silent.
The seneschal's eyes opened wider, and he stared down into the watery frenzy below, contemplating
it. He could feel a sudden sweet madness take hold, a desire to throw himself onto the arms of the wind,
to drift down, then plummet, ending the torment from the demon and the loss of Rhapsody in one swift,
tumultuous leap.
No. Step back.
He shook his head violently, spattering the sweat from his brow into the cleansing wind.
She was not worthy of us. She despised you. Could you not tell that?
'I don't believe you," the seneschal said lighdy, but his undertone was menacing. "Did you see her face
when she told me she thought I was dead?"
,'saw it. I saw disdain .
'Nonesuch," the seneschal snapped. "You saw remorse, and longing."
 You are not only blind, you are pathetic.
From below voices could be heard in snippets on the rising gusts of wind; the seneschal looked to the
south, where lanterns were being lighted on the now-dark sand beach, their tiny flames spreading out
wide, circling the edges of the sea, approaching the rocks but driven back by the force of the tide,
sending ripples of light out over the black water.
The demon's voice in his mind changed; it took on a warm, sweet tone.
Go down, then, if you must. Search the shoreline. Tou will not find anything no one could
have survived those rocks. But search, for you will not be able to rest until you do. Then, once you
have made your peace with her being gone for certain this time, let us return to the ship, and back
to Argaut. Much is waiting for us to revel in back home. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]