Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (43 page)

"Yes,"
the
Scholar
replied
instantly.

"Then
you've
all
seen,
now,"
Breaker
sa
id.
"He
killed
an innocent
woman.
We
can
no
longer
doubt
the
need
to
remove
him."

"I
think
we've
all
seen
enough,"
the
Leader
said,
getting to
his
feet.
"Come
on—we
still
need
to
reach
shelter
before nightfall."

"Are
we
going
to
just
leave
her
here?"
the
Archer
asked, shocked.

"We
can't
spare
the
time
to
do
anything
else,
not
in
this storm,"
the
Leader
said.
"We'll
tell
the
townspeople
in
Riversedge."

Lightning
flashed
anew,
and
the
crack
of
thunder
blended with
the
crack
of
breaking
wood.

"Stay
away
from
any
trees,"
the
Leader
said.
"Lore
says lightning
can
knock
them
down—that
means
it
can
knock them
down
on
us.
We
need
to
stay
in
the
open."

"Where
the
storm
is
worst,"
the
Archer
said.

"Of
course."

"You
know,
I
wanted
to
kill
him
anyway,
but
now
I
am
rea
lly
beginning
to
hate
the
Wizard
Lord."

"I
don't
blame
you,"
Breaker
said.

"Come
on,"
the
Beauty
said.
"All
of
you.
We
can
talk
in Riversedge."
She
matched
her
actions
to
her
words,
rising and
trudging
onward.

One
by
one,
the
others
followed.

They
reached
Riversedge
around
sunset—they
had
not seen
the
sun
in
hours,
of
course,
but
the
skies
were
growing even
darker,
and
there
could
be
little
doubt
that
the
faint
daylight
was
dying.

The
boundary
shrine
had
tilted
slightly
in
the
mud,
but
was still
easily
see
n;
Breaker
stopped
to
say,
"We
come
in
peace, O
ler,
and
beg
you
receive
us
kindly."
The
Speaker
paused
as well
and
said
something
that
sounded
like
no
imaginable
human
language;
the
others
marched
past
without
stopping.

They
passed
the
farmers'
fields,
n
ow
flooded
and
lost
beneath
black
water;
before
them
the
village
was
a
darker
gray outline
in
the
deepening
gray
gloom.
Breaker
saw
no
lights, and
for
a
moment
felt
an
uncontrollable
surge
of
terror—had the
Wizard
Lord
destroyed
the
town,
as
he
had
Stones
lope, so
that
its
residents
could
not
aid
the
Chosen?
Would
they find
roofless
ruins
and
staring
corpses,
rather
than
welcoming
fires
and
cheerful
hosts?

But
then
he
glimpsed
a
yellow
flicker,
and
another—the lights
were
there,
but
doors
and
shutters
were
tightly
closed, shutting
out
the
storm
and
the
encroaching
night.

"Hey!"
the
Archer
shouted,
as
they
entered
the
main street.
"Hello
in
there!"

"Shut
up,"
Breaker
told
him.
"We'll
knock
at
the
inn— there's
no
need
to
wake
the
whole
town."

"And
where
is
th
is
inn?"
the
Leader
asked.
"I
was
the
high priest's
guest
when
I
came
through
before,
and
needed
no
inn."

"There,"
the
Seer
replied,
pointing.

A
moment
later
the
Seer
and
the
Archer
were
pounding
on the
door
of
the
inn,
calling
for
succor,
while
the
other
five stood
back.

And
a
moment
after
that—a
long
and
frightening
moment,
in
which
Breaker
feared
that
his
fantasy
was
true
after all,
despite
the
lights—the
door
swung
open,
and
the
seven tumbled
in,
one
after
another,
spilling
rain
from
cloaks
and hats
an
d
packs.

The
landlord
stared
at
them.

"What's
happening?"
he
demanded.
"Who
are
you
people?
What
were
you
doing
out
in
this
storm?"

The
Leader
spoke,
of
course,
as
the
others
shook
off
the worst
of
the
rain.

"We
are
traveling
from
Winterhome,
on
our
way
t
o
the Galbek
Hills,"
he
said. "In
this
storm?"

The
Leader
grimaced.
"We
didn't
have
much
choice."
"And
where
is
your
guide?"

At
that,
the
seven
Chosen
fell
silent.
They
stopped
wringing
out
sleeves
to
stare
at
one
another.

"Dead,"
the
Leader
said
at
last.
"She's
dead.
On
the
road, a
mile
or
two
east."

"Dead?
The
ler?
"

"The
lightning."

The
innkeeper
flinched.
"The
flashes—that
was
lightning?
And
it
really
can
kill?" "Yes."

"What's
happened?
Why
is
this
happening?
Are
the
ler
angry?
Is
a
rogue
wizard
responsible?
Why
doesn't
the
Wizard
Lord
do
something?"