The Lightning Wastes (The Traveler's Gate Chronicles: Collection #3) (8 page)

The Old Man stepped out, using his staff for balance.

The Tree itself, little more than a sapling, hissed as he approached. It wanted even him, hungered for even his blood, but it didn’t attack.

Even the murderous plant knew better than that.

Leaning on his wooden staff, the Old Man knelt, tolerating the creaking pain in his knees. Queen Cynara’s eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky. Her eyes were beautiful, he supposed, if you appreciated that sort of thing. Personally, he thought they would look much better in red.

“You have given everything you have to Ragnarus,” he murmured. “Let me help you take the last step.”

The Old Man extended one gnarled finger and pressed it to her forehead. Before her soul departed completely, he willed some of his power into her, flooding her body, repairing its damage.

She gasped and jerked awake.

Her eyes were already gone, replaced by solid orbs of red flame. Her new skin crept over her, like ice over a freezing lake, turning her to a fluid statue of blood-colored steel. Her clothes flared and blazed away, replaced by a long dress of scarlet light.

The Old Man stepped back to admire his handiwork as the first Incarnation of Ragnarus rose to her feet.

“What have you done?” Cynara whispered, through metallic red lips.

He prided himself on his tolerance and even disposition, but he was just a tad offended. “I have saved you from the brink of death, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve made a masterpiece from that which you would have wasted. You can fill the gap your sister left. You will be my hand in this world.”

Cynara met his gaze. He had been right: her new eyes were much more beautiful.

“You told me this would only cost me my life!”

The Old Man smiled fondly, as he would at a naïve granddaughter. “You will find that’s not the only time I have lied to you. Now, Ragnarus, go forth and take your throne!”

She looked at him, and down at the bloody branches twisting around her feet. “I do not answer to you.”

Then she walked into the Hanging Tree, her arms spread wide. The branches picked her up, lifting her into the sky, and then pulled her down under the ground. She didn’t say a word.

Once, in a place far away, the Old Man had been renowned for his foresight.

But he hadn’t seen this coming.

He knew she would be able to hear him, still. The Hanging Tree was of Ragnarus, and now she
was
Ragnarus. Unlike the other Incarnations, she would likely never lose consciousness. It would be a fate worse than death; she should have listened to him.

“Well. Your line will continue, Queen Cynara. Our pact remains unbroken. I will deal with the others, your sons and daughters, since you would not let me deal with you. And who knows? Maybe someday, when you are free, you will come to see things my way.”

With one last backward glance to see the Tree waving in the air, the Old Man stepped into his Vault and closed the door.

If you still put your own needs before the needs of others, every other virtue is without meaning. This is the key to all that I have taught you.

There is no love greater than sacrifice.

-Elysian Book of Virtues, Chapter 9: White

The Story Concludes In…

CITY OF LIGHT

(The Traveler’s Gate Trilogy, Book 3)

Coming When the Moons of Lirial Have Aligned!

(Early 2014)

Also, check out Will’s website for book updates, news, original fiction, and his long-forgotten True Name!

www.WillWight.com