Page 16 of HeartTorn

I cannot shake the heaviness that clings to me following both the onset of that darkness and Taar’s tale. My eyes dart this way and that, searching for signs of hellish residue in the world around me. The river water feels thick as it dampens my skirts and splashes against my thighs. And when we reach the far shore, I can’t shake the feeling that each strand of grass is covered in some viscous substance which my eyes cannot discern.

It's the un-song. I realize the truth even as Elydark breaks into a gallop, speeding across the open valley, his nose turned toward that distant standing stone. The un-songof the darkness still reverberates across my gods-gifted senses, more real than the reality surrounding me. It clings to this world, and though I cannot see any overt effect upon the land itself, something tells me that Cruor has been irreparably changed by its proximity to hell. For one thing, there are no birds, no flowers, no insects, no signs of life anywhere around us. Nothing but endless waves of grass, bowing under Elydark’s hooves only to spring back up again, unbroken in our wake.

Should I believe Taar’s story? The question churns in my brain, annoying and insistent. I’ve known him only a handful of days, whereas I’ve spent my entire life in dread of the fae. Prince Ruvaen’s invading force has spread devastation across Gavaria for years now. Sheltered in Beldroth Castle, I’ve been spared any direct suffering until recent history. But during my Maiden’s Journey I glimpsed evidence of the fae and their savagery: burnt-out villages, refugees on foot in the middle of winter. Cold,starving faces turning to watch my carriage and entourage pass. One could not doubt all the rumors of fae wickedness in light of such suffering.

And what about my older sister? Faraine described the terrible unicorn riders who set upon her carriage during her journey home from her remote convent. She told me how they’d slaughtered her guards, how they would have slain her as well were it not for the timely arrival of the Shadow King. He alone could vanquish such a deadly foe, he and his monstrous warriors.

But what if there was another side to this story? What if those vicious Licornyn, desperate to preserve their own people, their way of life, believed their only hope was to prevent King Larongar from allying himself with the troldefolk? What if those Licornyn warriors lost their lives fighting to save a world my people have all but destroyed?

I set my jaw hard. No one really knows what goes on inside Evisar Citadel. It would be foolish indeed to switch allegiances based on the testimony of one biased source. Even if that biased source is Taar—the man who has thrice saved my life at great risk to his own. The man who has shown me nothing but courtesy and kindness, even when I sought to stab him in the eye. The man who inspires in my blood such a heat as to be almost irresistible.

I wrap cold fingers around my forearm, squeezing hard over that place where the invisiblevelracord lies. I dare not forget the truth: I am a captive, bound to this man by powerful magic which clouds my senses. If I’m to survive, I must keep a level head.

Hours slip by. I watch the sky nervously as we progress across the valley, but there’s no return of the branching fingers of black lightning. If the Miphates are truly pulling magic from Ashtari, they seem to have fetched enough for the time being. The sunmoves in its lonely arc toward the horizon, tossing Elydark’s shadow longer and longer on our right. He seems to be in a race against it, trying to outstrip his own long-legged counterpart.

My eyes grow heavy—the steady rhythm of Elydark’s gait is so soothing, and the warm strength of Taar behind me strangely comforting. And I’m so gods-damned tired! My chin dips. I jerk my head back upright, only for it to dip again . . .

When I wake, Elydark is still in motion, but the valley is now behind us. The unicorn climbs the steep hill on which the Luin Stone stands. It looms above us, no natural formation as I first assumed. Bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, it shines like pure gold. In fact itispure gold, shaped by craftsman in careful lines and smooth curves. From this angle it’s difficult to say what it’s meant to be. It looks almost like . . . a leg?

“The Luin Stone once marked the southernmost edge of Licorna,” Taar says suddenly, as though overhearing my unspoken questions. “In the days before the Rift, it was a statue erected in honor of the first Licornyn king, Luinthalor. It stood so tall, legend has it that the king’s crown could be seen from the top of the Citadel of the Stars in Evisar, though I never had the chance to verify the truth of that claim.”

I squint to study the great edifice as we draw nearer. The craftsmanship is undeniable now—that muscular calf, the bones of the ankle, the massive foot fitted into an ornate sandal. Whatever happened to the rest of the statue, all that remains is testimony to the glory of ancient days.

A ripple of song issues from Elydark to Taar. I don’t understand it but detect a certain note of anxiety. “What’s wrong?” I ask, turning a little to look up at Taar.

He glances down at me, his expression curious. “Did you hear that?”

I grit my teeth. Something tells me I shouldn’t let him know just how much I overhear of his connection with his unicorn.“Hear what?” I ask innocently. “I didn’t hear anything. Your body tensed up. That’s all.”

He looks unconvinced, but he lets the matter drop. “There’s nothing wrong,” he answers. “Elydark ought to be able to sense the presence of other licorneir waiting for us above. There aren’t any. Which means we’ve missed the rendezvous with my people.”

Well, that’s a relief! A sigh slides between my lips. The longer I can put off any interaction with those stern-faced Licornyn warriors the better. Still, that tension between Elydark and Taar continues in several more exchanges of song. Despite Taar’s words to the contrary, he’s not as easy as he pretends. What will we find at the top of this rise?

Elydark never slackens his pace, no matter how steep the path grows. He continues at the same breakneck gallop until we reach the summit, close to the towering Luin Stone. Though I saw it looming from across the valley, I am nonetheless struck by the sheer size of that gold block. The original statue of the first Licornyn king must have been massive indeed! What became of the rest of it? Did the surviving Licornyn haul away the gold following the collapse of their kingdom? Or did the Miphates find it and claim it for some purpose of their own?

We come to a stop. Elydark paws the ground and snorts as he shakes his horn. Taar, sitting very straight in the saddle, looks around the landscape. There’s no sign of life to be seen close at hand, though I spot what looks like the remains of campfires clustered around the Luin Stone. His people were here not long ago. “They must have gone on without us,” Taar says, speaking to himself rather than to me. “It was always an outside chance that they would be here, but I’d hoped the time-slip might work in our favor.”

“A time-slip?”

He looks down, half-catching my eye before looking away again. “Your world and mine, though similar, do not follow the same flow of time. I did not intend to stay a full night in your world, merely a few hours. That extra night may have added several days to our overall journey or no time at all. It is difficult to predict such things.”

He sounds as though he’s trying to comfort himself with this explanation. Elydark throws back his head, shaking his mane, obviously unconvinced. But whatever exchange passes between them, Taar does not share with me.

I turn to look at the landscape beyond the stone, which had been hidden from my sight while down in the valley. To my surprise, there is a town not many miles from our current position. No, not a town—a city. Great, towering structures, bridges, a mighty wall. Shocking in its size, its grandeur, it dominates a valley equally lush and wild as the one we just left behind. Even the backdrop of distant mountains cannot diminish its splendor.

But it’s empty. Like a gutted carcass, its spirit long since fled.

I blink, momentarily convinced my eyes deceive me. Maybe it’s just a trick of the fading light. Surely those great towers cannot be half-choked in vines, those roads broken and overgrown in foliage and weeds. My ears strain for sounds of life, for the ever-changing song of a living city, the great harmony of a hundred thousand souls living, trading, struggling, triumphing, breeding, feeding, dying—all sheltered within those tall, forbidding walls.

There is nothing. Only ghastly echoes of wind blowing through empty windows.

“Is that Evisar?” I ask quietly, unable to tear my gaze from that sight.

Taar turns his head, regarding the city. “No,” he says. “Evisar is a full day’s ride from here and is hidden behind apowerfulobscurisspell. This was once the City of Uvareth, my grandfather’s holding, my mother’s childhood home.”

He speaks the words carefully, as though afraid to let any emotion tinge his voice. What must it be like for him? To travel across this familiar landscape only to be confronted with once-thriving cities now utterly decimated? Not even the ruinous towns I’d glimpsed on my Maiden’s Journey can compare. They were bad, yes—they had been attacked, burnt, the denizens slain or driven out. But by the time I passed by, there were already signs of return. People are resilient, and where there is life, there is stubborn determination to survive and rebuild.

There was no attack here, however. No sign of burning or destruction, no pillaging invaders. It is simply empty. Hollowed out from the inside. Echoing un-song rings in the back of my head. The people of this city, of this world, were unprepared. They had no chance to defend themselves from that consuming emptiness, that hunger-made-sentient. One moment alive, going about their day-to-day existence, the next . . . devoured.

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