Page 3 of HeartTorn

We sip our drinks in silence, while my mind whirls with this wealth of new information. I had always known the worlds were larger, more varied, more fascinating than the narrow existence I lived in Beldroth Castle. I’d simply never realized hownearall those worlds were. Or how terrifying.

Taar drains his cup then stands and begins to kick dirt over the remnants of the fire. “Come,zylnala,” he says, and something warms in my chest at the sound of the pet name lilting from his tongue. “I bade my people wait for me one night only. This extra night has set me back, and if I’m to meet them at the Luin Stone, we must set off at once.”

I shudder, remembering the furious faces of the other unicorn riders, who stood by as witnesses to my strange wedding ceremony. One face in particular had looked as though he would disembowel me the minute Taar’s back was turned.

Rising, I help Taar kick out the fire and begin packing up the saddlebags. “How will your people react to your bringing me with you?” I ask somewhat tentatively.

Taar’s brow darkens. “Don’t expect a warm welcome.”

2

TAAR

The gate is still open, Vellar. But it is unstable.

Elydark’s voice sings in my head, wordless and full of meaning. I shade my eyes and look beyond his upraised head to the stretch of baren landscape lying before us. From here, on the edge of the forest, I can just discern the fracturing sliver of unreality that marks the gate from this world back to the Wood Between. It is the same gate Lurodos and I opened when we brought our invasion force through to attack the Temple of Lamruil. It was not built to last; many days old by now, it is on the brink of collapse.

Can we pass through?I sing back to my licorneir, my voice inaudible to all but his spirit.Is it safe enough?

Elydark’s skin ripples like a shudder. He doesn’t fare well in a world like this one, nearly devoid of natural magic. If we do not cross this gate back into a realm more to his liking, he will suffer. Even so only a fool would attempt to cross an unstable portal.

I will know better when we are nearer,he says at last.

With that he sets off at an easy lope across the winter-bare fields, moving with such liquid grace one scarcely feels the beat of his hooves. He is all but invisible beneath the cold light of this sun, but the radiating power of his being generates an impression that tricks the eye into believing it sees more than it does. Used to it as I am, I scarcely notice. But my companion is a little less easy.

“Oh, gods!” Ilsevel gasps, as Elydark breaks into a gallop. She grips the pommel of the saddle with both hands, her body wrungtight with tension. I slip an arm around her waist, pulling her against me. It’s not a conscious thought, merely an impulse to make her feel more secure. I regret it immediately, for the feel of her lithe body between my legs is already a distraction for which I am unprepared. Holding her close like this? It’s almost more than I can bear. I focus on the landscape once more, determined to find something, anything to distract my attention from this new little wife of mine.

Wife. . . The word seems to echo in my chest, warm and strange, almost frightening. If anyone had told me I would return from this campaign with a human bride in tow, I would have laughed in his face and called him a fool! I’m not laughing now. This situation is far from humorous. Thevelracord of our marriage ceremony binds us tight. Any degree of separation leaves me exposed to dark magic, as I discovered to my cost.

Elydark covers the ground swiftly, leaving the field behind for a narrow, rutted road. The same road on which I collapsed only yesterday after leaving my new bride behind at a nearby town. Not realizing the danger such separation would pose, I’d ridden off, intending to cross the gate, return to my world, and spend the rest of my life trying not to think of her again.

Instead unchecked virulium poison coursed through my body, overcoming all resistance. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but the violence lingers in the depths of my mind, along with the faint whisper of a voice:

“Give me to drink, Taarthalor. Pour out blood unto me.”

I yank my thoughts roughly back to the present. I am not that man anymore, not prey to the seductive ravages of virulium. But I should never have put myself in that position, never allowed myself to be made vulnerable. Had I known the consequences of the marriage vows I spoke to this woman—had I guessed the symbolic bond of thevelrawould in fact manifest in such a real,inescapable way—I never would have done it. This woman has not only put my life at risk, but the future of my people as well.

Then again it was she who saved me.

I look down at the dark head before me. She sits astride the broad Licornyn saddle, cradled in my arms. I owe her my life. Were it not for the strange power she bears—the gods-gift, as she named it—I would have succumbed to the virulium in my veins, dying in a last shock of violence and gore. But somehow, impossibly, she mingled her voice with Elydark’s and called me back from the darkness. A feat which even the bravest Licornyn warrior would have struggled to accomplish.

Ilsevel.This fiery, gods-gifted creature, who bears a Licornyn name. And not just any name, but the name of our most sacred flower, the centerpiece of our very culture and way of life. It cannot be coincidence. Surely the gods themselves must have brought us together, intending to join her destiny with the Licornyn people. If that is true, does it explain this inexplicable desire I feel for her? Is it more than just the primal lust of a man for womanly flesh and instead something far more profound?

I grit my teeth into the cold wind blowing in my face. What good is this thinking? Better to face the truth: she bears the nameIlsevelbecause she is the daughter of my enemy. Some Miphato, perhaps, who traveled to and from Cruor using the mage-paths, liked the sound of the name and carried it back to his homeland to bestow on his offspring. Her name is no coincidence. Neither is it some holy sign. It is the inevitable result of conquest.

I must take care not to forget myself. The next month will be difficult, with thevelratrying to make me believe I feel things I could never justly feel for a woman who is all wrong for me. I must not do anything to strengthen whatever bond already exists . . . no matter how great the temptation.

Elydark pulls up short twenty paces from the gate and tosses his head uneasily. I cannot blame him. The air ripples with the dissonance of reality breaking down, falling in on itself. Only the barest trace of structure remains, but through it, I can discern the green shade of the wood on the far side.

Well, Elydark?I ask as my licorneir tears at the earth with a sharp hoof.Do we dare?

He utters a tigerish growl and shakes his horn. Before I can question him further, he springs forward, aiming straight for the middle of that gate. I just have time to pull Ilsevel close against me and shout, “Hold on!”

Then Elydark carries us through that thin veil into the space beyond, and all sense of reality fractures. A weight like the tonnage of eons flattens my soul, dragging it out until it is stretched taut from one world to the next. This is far worse than when we passed through yesterday, and if I had enough assembled being to feel anything, I would think myself a fool for having dared this crossing. As it is I am aware of nothing but flattening and stretching, more and more, until what’s left ofmeis practically gone.

Abruptly as it began, everything snaps back together in a burst of needle-sharp sensation. I gasp at the pain of newly returned senses, overwhelmed by the greens and grays and golds of the forest around us, by the whisper of wind, the thud of hooves, the smell of pine and oak and birch filling my nostrils. So much experience all packed into a few seconds, I cannot for a moment fathom where or who I am.

Violent retching brings me back to myself. I look down to find Ilsevel, bent in half, vomiting up everything she’s eaten or drunk in the last twenty-four hours. My heart twists with compassion. World-traveling is hard enough on those used to it. Humans haven’t the constitutions for shifting between realities.

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