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many trials in his life, but he had never felt more condemned than at this
moment. The grim legacy that his race had inflicted on Nufal tainted the land
beneath his feet. Generations of old growth held down the dust of a ruined
civilization with their roots, and Shan sensed the living forest judging him
harshly.
 It was so long ago. I did not do it, he whispered and slid to the ground.
The rain had ceased but a gentle drip from the leaves persisted. Wet with
water and his blood, Shan shivered, which frightened him because rys were
resistant to cold.
His mind veered from the extraordinary conflict that had dragged him into the
inner sanctum of the
Wilderness. He pictured the Jingten Valley and imagined the sweet scent of his
native forest. If he were there, the burning agony in his torso would not be
happening. Instinct compelled his mind to journey to his home mountains, and
his vision of the Rysamand beckoned him. Then his mind was traveling the skies
and the pain faded. Lifting above Nufal, Shan headed west eager to leave the
land that permanently resented him.
As the plains between the mountain ranges opened beneath him, Shan gradually
noticed that his mental journey was slightly different from usual. His soul
had completely detached from his body and followed his mind over the land.
Shan had encountered the souls of the dead enough times for him to recognize
when he was one.
In the west, the shimmering Rysamand blurred and Shan saw the portal to the
next world. The pull was strong warm and pleasant, like the bliss that animals
know in the womb but are condemned to forget. Leaving the violent, scheming,
greedy world would be easy, especially when the Nufalese soil was soaking up
his purple blood.
But Shan s powerful mind had journeyed this close to the next world before,
and he resisted the welcoming whirlpool of death. Shan was the King of
Jingten, the most powerful rys, and some unknown savage in a loincloth would
not strike him down.
Shan s soul plummeted back to Nufal. Like falling into a bin of cockroaches,
the ancient land that his kind had destroyed swallowed him. The dark canopy of
the forest blotted the stars from his vision.
The pain returned and it was an even greater torment after his visit to the
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threshold of the next world. He took a slow rasping breath, expanding his
dormant lungs that had been filling with fluid.
Shan moved his arms and flexed his hands that were stiff from the low amount
of blood in the veins.
With a mastered discipline, he found a path through the pain and began to
apply healing magic to his wound. His feeble attempt to fix his flesh achieved
about as much as a lifeboat of people stranded on the open sea sharing
insufficient water rations. Shan could patch the hole in his side, but the
damage within was not mended.
With the agony under control, he struggled to function. Tempet had to be
incapacitated as well, and Shan knew he might never get a better chance to
defeat him. Rolling over, he willed his torn body to his feet.
The path taken by the crawling Tempet was easy to see and Shan limped down it.
He wondered how long he had been in his death-like state. In reply to his
question, the long night relented and the trees filtered the first gray hint
of dawn.
Shan probed the forest with his advanced senses. After his ordeal, it was
difficult to focus, but he managed to locate his enemy. The female had joined
her partner, which caused Shan to pause. In his condition, he doubted if he
could confront them both, but he did not want to lose the opportunity that
Tempet s injuries provided.
I must finish him now, Shan thought feverishly and pushed on.
Aware of his intent to kill Tempet, Shan recalled the guilt that Dacian had
expressed about his role in the destruction of Nufal. Killing Tempet would be
like finishing the crimes that Dacian had begun, but Shan saw no way to avoid
the deed. Tempet was a fearsome beast uninterested in peace and
Shan felt the yoke of his duty settle on his shoulders. As King, he had to
protect his people, both rys and humans. For their sake, he had to accept the
burden of guilt.
Shan had shed his commitment to non-violence in order to become King. At the
time, he had hoped that using his power to kill was only a temporary
necessity, but now he could not cling to that fantasy. Sternly, he hauled his
compassion to its holding cell and plodded toward his enemy with greater
haste.
Fixing his mind on the brutal task ahead, Shan held up his shield and sword
and closed the final distance. The songbirds inspired by the dawn silenced
themselves when Shan went by.
When Shan reached his enemy, he saw him laid by a spring with the female
tending his wounds.
The water gurgled up pleasantly into a forest pool dotted with lily pads. With
violence boiling in his heart, Shan was immune to the tranquil beauty of the
spot, but he had no resistance to the sight of the female. She rose from the
side of her partner and faced Shan. Lightly, she gasped at his appearance, and
the wondrous note created by the air passing through her lips halted Shan.
Her loveliness transfixed Shan and the brilliance of her being diminished his
cruel resolve. A golden streamer of sunlight slanted through the tree branches
and glowed on her perfect face and the soft edges of her full lips. He stared
at her fine face that was crowned with a glaze of short white locks.
Shan did not consider the sheepskin shift covering her body to be primitive,
but rather, it was privileged to touch her ideal curves.
A spear of emotion struck his chest with a force similar to the bitaran that
had nearly killed him. His sword drooped and he did not advance. The fire to
slay his enemy was smothered by the female, who confronted Shan like a dream
that he had never had, but now that she occupied his mind, he never wanted to
wake up.
A different sort of shock had frozen Alloi. She had passed Shan in the forest
on her way to help her brother and she had thought that the rys was dead. Fear
made her quiver with vulnerability as she realized the extent of his power. He
appeared able to ward off death.
With her brother depending on her, Alloi braced herself to face the challenge.
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She abandoned her tradition and scooped up the bitaran with the speed of a
striking snake, but Shan did not react.
Assuming that the King of Jingten intended to toy with her, Alloi stoked her
powers. White light filled her eyes as she attempted to be intimidating.
Seemingly impervious to her threatening posture, Shan whispered,  Who are
you?
His calm respectful voice could have lulled Alloi if she were not looking upon
a rys. Her enemy was before her and she ignored the confusion that the sight
of the strange male aroused. If before waking in this time, she had not seen
her whole world overrun by holocaust, she might have been inclined to
appreciate this powerful male. A tiny rebellious portion of her soul even
pitied the rys s terrible wound.
But Tempet moaned and reminded Alloi of her loyalties. The wonderment she felt
was probably caused by a rys trick. Perhaps this rys had insinuated himself
into her mind and sought to make her weak by exposing her kindness.
Shielding magic glowed around Alloi s body, but Shan did not attack. He could
not attack. Now that he physically saw the female, he intensely regretted the
spell that he had stunned her with earlier.
Shan could reason that the murderous Tempet deserved his lethal judgement, but
the mysterious female sapped him of his will to do harm. Despite her hostile
stance, Shan sensed an endearing gentleness at the core of her powerful soul. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]