7 

Straightening herself wearily on Pet’s back, Ela looked ahead at the narrow, wild river valley. Tall, lush evergreens crowned gray rocky cliffs, which descended sharply to the rushing river below. And the hard-packed cliff road was widening—an indication that they were nearing the next overnight stop on their journey. The Tracelands’ border city of Ytar.

Seeming to echo Ela’s thoughts, Jon Thel looked over his black-cloaked shoulder to grin at Beka and Ela. “We’ll be in Ytar before sunset!”

“Finally!” Beka exulted, patting her lovely destroyer’s dark neck. “A bath and real food!”

“And sleep,” Ela agreed. They’d need to rest before heading into the southern borderlands that separated the Tracelands from Istgard and Parne. Ela winced. She mustn’t think about Parne. Tzana’s head lolled against Ela, her small body limp as she dozed astride Pet. Ela snuggled her little sister closer. Pet’s big ears perked, listening. He rumbled an alarm.

Infinite? Ela tugged the vinewood branch from its place on Pet’s war collar and raised it to halt Jon’s staff and servants, who trailed them on the road. Behind her, Jon’s subordinate-commander, Selwin, had to rein in his destroyer. Beka’s elegant destroyer squealed, and Jon’s destroyer turned about and huffed, alert. Jon drew his Azurnite sword, holding it high, readied. They all looked up at the low tree-fringed rock formations to their left.

A ragged figure hurtled from a shaded ledge onto Jon, knocking him off his destroyer, sending Jon’s blue weapon over the cliff into the river below. Beka screamed. “Jon!”

Jon yelled and grappled with his assailant. Jon’s destroyer, Savage, bit into the man’s tattered garments, lifted him off Jon, and flung the howling offender over the cliff, into the river after Jon’s sword. Jon scrambled to his feet. “Beka, wait here!” Yanking a short-sword from his destroyer’s war collar, Jon turned and ran along the cliff road, evidently scanning the rocks below for his enemy.

Tzana awoke and squirmed. “What’s happening?”

Pet stomped, gouging potholes into the road. He started to turn, but Ela restrained him, fearing he would plow into Beka’s destroyer. “Halt!”

The destroyer groaned.

Behind them, Jon’s servants bellowed as a motley throng leaped from the foliage above, wielding clubs and knives. Ela cried, “Infinite, stop them! Blind them!”

At once, the attackers fumbled, dropped their weapons, and yelled in sightless panic.

“Oh . . . !” The robbers were blinded! Could she truly call on the Infinite to create such calamity? Frightful power! She must be more careful. And yet . . . Infinite, it would have been helpful to know of this prophet-trait months ago!

By now Jon was running toward them again, but his attendants didn’t need his assistance. Led by Selwin, they were beating the helpless men. Ela hesitated. Disgusting as these failed robbers were, she felt responsible for their safety. She’d prayed for them to be blinded, and now they were defenseless. If one of them died while debilitated, she’d be eaten with guilt. Reluctantly, Ela called out, “Stop beating them—they’re blind! Find cords and tie them.”

Pet’s noises of ferocious complaint shifted to grumbling.

His expression cold with suppressed fury, Jon hurried to Beka. “Everyone seems safe for now, except the reprobate Savage threw over the edge—that cursed man made me lose my sword!” Jon swung at the air with a fist. Composing himself somewhat, he said, “I’ll send others back to retrieve his body after we’ve dealt with these thugs. Beka, are you well?”

Beka faltered, “Um . . . yes . . . but what should we do now?”

Jon scowled at their prisoners. “We lead these criminals into Ytar, though I’m half ready to thrash them all. My sword—the military’s Azurnite sword—is lost in the river! General Rol will lock me up for the remainder of my life.”

Infinite? Ela appealed to their Creator. Could she retrieve Jon’s sword? Images slid through her thoughts, stole her breath, and left her disgusted. This was more information than she’d cared to know. “Is this another test?” she demanded. If the Infinite was testing her self-control, she was on the verge of failing. “Ugh!”

“Ela?” Beka leaned toward Ela, alarmed. “You’re not suffering another vision, are you?”

“Not a big one,” Ela sniffed. “Just two small ones—the second very irritating.” If only Kien were here. Praying, she descended from Pet, who gave her a dire glare, as if warning her not to leave him.

Tzana frowned at her, still sleep-grumpy. “Where’re you going?”

“Down to the river—we won’t be long. Stay with Pet.” To emphasize her order, Ela gave her destroyer a low growl. “Wait.”

Pet stomped. But he waited.

Beka also commanded her destroyer to wait, then dismounted to join Ela and Jon. Still disgusted, Ela shook her head. “You won’t believe my vision!”

Jon looked sickened. “You’ve seen that I won’t find my sword?”

His sword? “Yes. I mean—let’s hurry.” She’d cool off beside the river, then deal with her anger and its cause.

While they walked toward a lower portion of the riverbank, Beka cajoled her husband. “Jon, dear, with everything we’ve been through, I ought to have a sword.”

“You don’t know how to use one. You’d need lessons. Besides,” he warned, “if we don’t find mine, we’ll be unable to buy you a needle, much less a sword.”

They picked their way down the rock ledges and stepped onto the narrow riverbank. Ela stared out at the rapids, then at the cliffs above, gauging the proper location. “Where, exactly, did it fall? Here?”

Bleak, Jon eyed their destroyers above, aligned his steps near Ela’s and nodded toward the river’s center. “You’re right. I’m sure it was there, more or less.”

Ela threw her prophet’s branch into the river.

Beka gasped. “Why did you do that? The branch was your insignia!”

“It’s still my insignia. Look.” She nodded at the water. Jon’s sword popped up in the current, suddenly buoyant as a leaf. “Grab it!”

Jon whooped and bounded into the water, reaching for the sword, which glided into his hand, contrary to the river’s flow. He clutched the silvery hilt and kissed its dazzling blue blade, then danced out of the river, making Beka laugh. “Infinite, bless You!”

Ela bowed her head, also thanking the Infinite. When she opened her eyes, the branch was floating directly in front of her at the river’s edge. She lifted the precious vinewood from the current and stared. Not a drop of water on it. Useless to show Jon and Beka this marvel; they were kissing. Well, at least two members of their group were happy.

Now to deal with the second portion of her vision. Ela tucked up her tunic and used the branch for support as she hiked up the small rock incline, leaving Jon and Beka behind. On the hard-packed cliff road, Ela smoothed her garments and lifted her chin. “Behave,” she ordered herself. She marched toward their small entourage.

“Are we leaving now?” Tzana demanded, looking down from the disgruntled Pet’s back.

“We’ll leave as soon as the Thels return,” Ela promised. “Be patient, both of you.”

She must take her own advice. Be patient. Self-controlled. As must Pet. Poor dear monster. Ela couldn’t blame him for being upset. Obviously he feared she was in danger.

The eleven prisoners were sitting in a tattered, woebegone line at the edge of the road. Ela stopped directly in front of their renegade leader—a thin man, not quite as ragged as his followers, but definitely not as elegant as Ela remembered. Lord Ruestock. Siphra’s former ambassador to the Tracelands, a spy, and her own pitiless abductor. Not to mention a lecher who made her feel unclean with his every glance. Shuddering, she snapped, “Ruestock!”

His blinded brown eyes widened. A sneering smile lifted his narrow face. Oily and fawning as Ela remembered, Ruestock crooned, “Ah, Ela. Parne’s loveliest prophet! Really, your apparel was so dowdy I didn’t recognize you in the least—when I could see you. It is you, my dear, am I right? I never forget a beautiful woman’s voice.”

Ela clenched her teeth and reminded herself not to kick a man she’d disabled. “I am not your ‘dear’!” She half knelt to ensure he would hear her clearly. “Why did you imagine you’d be safe attacking us, particularly when we were riding destroyers?”

Ruestock sneered as if considering her question silly. “My orders were to attack the servants only, to snatch a few valuables and flee. Wylie, the fool who attacked your leader, disobeyed.”

“Still, your action was inexcusable.” Ela hardened her tone. “Our leader is Commander Thel, whose home you raided last year while abducting me.”

Ruestock’s scorn thinned. “I raided the Thels’ home while abducting you?”

“Your hired thugs, then—don’t mince matters!” Ela snapped. “The Infinite has given me authority to repay you for everything you’ve done. Tell me, sir, why should I allow you to live?”