Page 37 of HeartTorn

No. I shake my head and force my mind back down into that galloping rhythm once more. No thought, no memory. Just this present, endless now.

Somewhere out in the wild, a unicorn sings.

I don’t know when I become aware of the song through the rhythm of Elydark’s hooves. Perhaps it’s been with me for hours, just on the edge of perception. But suddenly I find I cannot ignore it, even if I wished to. It pulls at my heart, a sad, broken disharmony that feels all too familiar.

I turn my head slightly, hating even that small movement which brings me consciously back to my own body. Taar’s arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me in the saddle before him. There’s something hard in his grasp, as though he fears I will make a sudden burst for freedom. A laughable thought. What freedom is there for me in this or any world?

The unicorn song tugs at my ears again. Or rather, not my ears; this song is not heard but felt, singing straight to the heart. I gaze over Taar’s arm out into the lonely landscape. It’s all so hazy beneath the midday sun, which glares relentlessly down at us. But somewhere out there is another broken soul. A soul whose song is not what it’s supposed to be.

It’s her. I’m sure of it. The hearttorn unicorn who stood over the body of her dead Licornyn rider. “Nyathri,” I whisper. The name Taar spoke feels strange on my lips. Is she following us? Is there some small part of her that still hopes for redemption and reclamation?

I narrow my eyes, searching the stretch of grassy plain for some sign of a burning, skeletal being. But though her song sighs on the lonely wind, I see no sign of her. Perhaps I’m imagining that song. Wouldn’t Elydark hear it if it were real? Yet his stridenever falters, his focus never wavers. He gallops on in unbroken rhythm, eating up the miles.

One last trill of dissonant song ripples along the edge of my mind. To my surprise, a stray tear trails down my cheek, brushed away almost at once by the wind. I frown and face forward once more, staring at the world between Elydark’s ears. I’m not going to cry. Not for her, not for me. Not for the hope which flamed so hot last night, only to be doused in a blast of cold rejection come the dawn.

I was an idiot to think I mattered more to Taar than the bothersome inconvenience I am. He’s been perfectly clear about his intentions, has he not? Why should one night make any difference? I should have known better—I did know better! I simply pretended otherwise for a little while. Out of fear and foolishness and an agonizing wish not to face the reality of the choices I’ve made.

But that reality remains, waiting just on the other side of delusion. I won’t be stupid enough to try to escape it again.

So I shut my ears to the unicorn’s song, and we ride on. Hour upon hour, mile upon mile, while the world passes by. The wild, lonely landscape begins to take on an indistinct feeling, like the edge of a painting with all the details left off and nothing but ragged brushstrokes left. These must be the hinterlands Taar spoke of—the edge of his world.

Exhaustion shudders through my limbs. Part of me wonders if I should beg Taar to stop, to let me catch my breath and maybe eat and drink a little. I’ve never had to remind him before; he’s always been so conscious of my needs. Today, however, he seems scarcely aware of my existence, intent as he is upon his goal. And little wonder. After last night he’s more determined than ever to be rid of me.

The sun begins to set, golden rays catching on a glimmer of water lying ahead. My vision is dull and dark on the edges,and it takes me some moments to recognize that it’s a river. Didn’t Taar say something last night about crossing a river by sundown? We must be making good time.

Suddenly the sky overhead rips. Black fingers stretch every direction, jagged as thorns. My heart, which had sunk to the pit of my chest, leaps with a terror of recognition.

“Shakh,” Taar curses. It’s the first I’ve heard him speak in hours. The soul-tether between him and his unicorn vibrates with tension as the two communicate in their silent language. “Hold on,” Taar growls, crouching in the saddle, his heavy torso forcing me to lean over Elydark’s outstretched neck. “We can still outrun this.Vulmon, Elydark!”

With a surge of muscle, the unicorn lengthens his already tremendous stride. Now his hooves scarcely seem to touch the ground, and we fly across the landscape, swift as a speeding arrow. Overhead the black lightning branches again, and on either side, I see darkness closing in as thevardimnarovertakes the land. Strange—every other time it has struck, it’s been sudden, instantaneous. There is the warning crack across the sky and, moments later, shadow absolute.

Not this time. When I crane my neck to look back over Taar’s broad shoulder, the blackness of the Rift seems to roll after us, like a wave swallowing up the world. I wish Elydark would stop and brace himself, would sing the protective songlight as he’s done before. But he is focused only on the river ahead, and Taar’s soul shouts across their soul-tether, urging him faster and faster.

The river looms before us, a wide and rushing torrent. Elydark never slows his pace. Thevardimnarnipping at his flanks, he leaps from the shore and, for a perilous moment, I believe he will simply glide across the water, his hooves scarcely leaving a splash in our wake.

This idea is rudely shattered as we plunge into the rushing flow. Brown waves wash over my head, and the tug of the current is so ferocious, I fear it will pull me free of Taar’s grasp. He strengthens his hold on me, however, his arms a crushing cage. We break the surface of the water, and I choke and sputter and gasp for air, even as foam slaps my cheeks. Elydark’s powerful body moves underneath us, swimming hard against the river’s pull. I shake water from my eyes and cast a desperate look back.

Behind us, on the shore of the river, lies thevardimnar.A black wall, impenetrable, stretching from the water’s edge all the way to the heavens above. It’s like the world beyond has simply fallen away. But even as I look, blinking against river spray, I see the darkness shiver, see that membrane-like ripple and the sense ofpressurefrom the other side.

“Don’t look,” Taar barks, his voice loud in my ear. I snap my eyes forward again, just in time to be hit in the face by another wave. Water tries to fill my lungs, and I heave and choke. But thevardimnardoes not follow us. We have finally traveled beyond its reach. I don’t know if I feel relieved or not. I doubt I’ll ever feel truly safe in this world.

Elydark finds firm footing on the far side of the river and emerges in a surge of droplets and foam. He staggers a few paces, winded from exertion. Taar pats his shoulder, and I feel the encouragement sung from his soul into the beast’s. Only then does he turn his attention to me. “Are you all right, Ilsevel?”

I cough and sputter, nodding my head ferociously. The last thing in all the worlds I need is for him to start showing me any gods-damned care or concern. “I’m fine.” I push damp locks of hair out of my eyes and try not to shiver. “Ride on, if you’re ready. No need to stop on my account.”

Taar is silent. I feel his eyes on the back of my head, like he’s staring through my skull to read my mind. Much to my dismay, he dismounts and, without looking at me, removes thesaddlebag containing our supply of food and the last skin of water. “You need rest,” he says, holding up a hand to me. “It’s been a long day.”

I scowl fiercely down at my hands, which grip the pommel of the saddle in front of me.

“Come,” he urges, his voice gentle but firm. “I can’t have you fainting on the way to Elanlein. Sit a moment. Eat, drink.”

A foul word springs to my lips. It’s all I can do not to hurl it in his face. But I’m not supposed to be angry at him; I’m not supposed to feel anything. If I start to feel, I’ll start to hate him, and if I start to hate him, it’s only a step closer to loving him. Damn me if I’ll ever let myself get that close again!

With a last sniff and a swipe of water from my face, I swing my leg over Elydark’s back, ignore Taar’s hand, and dismount on my own. I land hard; the long hours of riding have numbed my muscles, making my whole body feel unfamiliar and unwieldy. Taking care not to glance Taar’s way, I hobble to a nearby clump of soft grass. My legs simply fold up under me, and I sink to the ground in a tumble of limbs and skirts.

Taar, silent and solemn, hands me the water skin first. “Drink,” he urges.

I pop the stopper and pour purified water down my parched throat. Immediately the effects of the dried ilsevel petals work wonders on my aching limbs. Warmth spreads from my gut out to every extremity. Knotted muscles begin to relax, and my breathing comes a little easier. It doesn’t make theumecake Taar offers to me next any more palatable, but I accept it and gnaw the edges.

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