Page 66 of HeartTorn

For hours we ride out from the mountains, retracing the journey we’d made only yesterday on our way to the temple. Taar doesn’t speak, and I haven’t the courage to interrupt his silence, not even to ask the most pressing question burning on my lips. But when at last I see the Morrona River shining under moonlight before us, I can’t help shouting over my shoulder, “Where are we going?”

“The Tarh Plains,” he answers, his mouth near my ear. “The Tarhyn Tribe lives there, and Chief Lathaira owes me for saving her life at the battle of Agandaur.Word will not yet have reached them of what’s happened here. We may find temporary succor.” He’s silent again for some while before adding, “I intend to keep you alive untilsilmaelthen deliver you safely home as I vowed.”

This is madness. I know it; he knows it. By saving me, he’s risking his own life. The elders will not forgive him for this offense. And they are the representations of the eight tribes. How much power do the tribes and their chieftains wield over their king? Perhaps in the time of his father, things were different, but Taar holds onto his authority by a mere thread. If they turn on him, how much longer before they turn on each other? Will the Licornyn people and way of life survive the aftermath of the choices we’ve both made these last twenty-four hours?

My heart feels like a stone, sinking to my stomach. I can’t bear to carry more guilt. “Taar,” I begin, “put me down here. I’ll go on my own. You’ve given me a chance, and no one could ask for more. I’ll manage somehow, and you can—”

“Hush.”

“No, you must listen—”

“Hush,zylnala!I heard something.”

A ripple of song goes out from Elydark. I feel his unease like a prickling of gooseflesh. I hold my breath and strain my ears for some hint of whatever it was Taar and his licorneir have discerned, but I hear nothing over the rhythmic beat of Elydark’s hooves.

Then Taar growls, “They’re after us.Vulmon,Elydark! Go!”

I look back over Taar’s big shoulder, peering into the darkness through which we’ve fled. In the distance, like dancing sparks, three flaming points of light illuminate the night. My breath stops. I know that light: it’s soulfire, the flame of licorneir made visible to mortal eyes.

“Forward, Ilsevel,” Taar barks in my ear. “Keep your eyes forward.”

I obey at once, gripping the pommel of the saddle as Taar leans over me, forcing me to bow over Elydark’s neck. Elydark cannot burst into flame like the others, for his fire would consume me in an instant. Will that make him slower than our pursuers? His gaze is fixed on the river, his head outstretched as though to pierce the distance with his horn. But I can feel the others getting closer. Their songs, first too faint for me to hear, grow louder and louder by the moment.

We shouldn’t do this. Taar shouldn’t be forced to flee his own people. I should make him stop. Maybe I could slip from the saddle. If I don’t break my neck when I hit the ground, I could simply surrender myself to those riders. Something tells me itwouldn’t be hard to convince them that I’d used human magic to ensorcel their king, and maybe then Taar would be—

Black lightning rips the sky on the far side of the river.

My heart stops. Though I know it cannot cross the Morrona, the sight of that rent in the sky fills me with dread. I’d rather return to my damp little cell then face the un-song darkness that must follow.

“Shakh,”Taar growls and sings something into Elydark’s head. The unicorn hesitates, his footsteps faltering for the first time this night. A ripple of song rolls back from him to Taar.“Vulmon!”Taar roars out loud.

Elydark tosses his head then redoubles his pace, speeding for the river. I scarcely have time to open my mouth, to begin to utter the protest bursting from the very depths of my gut. Then we splash down the river bank, and Elydark surges out into the water, up to his chest and deeper. Cold waves wash over me, dragging my body from the saddle. Only Taar’s iron grip keeps me from being swept away. Elydark swims steadily forward, and for just a moment, I can see the moonlit landscape on the far side of the river, the broad plains and distant forests.

Then darkness falls.

“Go back!” I scream. The force of that un-song sweeps down on me like a crushing blow. Fighting, clawing, kicking, I try to throw myself from the saddle into the river. I’d rather drown than be carried into that pulsing hell.

But Taar’s grip on me is relentless. “It’s the only way,” he shouts above the roar of the river and my own panicked voice. “Brace yourself.”

I look back. Back at the far shore, where no hell has ever touched. Back to where three Licornyn riders on beasts of blazing fire pace back and forth, unwilling to pursue, unwilling to ford the river and enter hell, even if it means losing their prey.

Elydark’s hooves touch the far embankment. The darkness ripples, bulges, that sense of straining membrane overwhelming as something reaches, trying to break through and grab us. I feel it thinning, stretching, reality ready to shred.

At the last possible moment Elydark begins to sing. The song-light aura pours from his soul, streams out through the coils of his horn in a shocking blast. The darkness recoils, shrieking its un-song in hideous, multitudinous chorus.

I turn my face into Taar’s neck and shoulder, shuddering. But as Elydark climbs from the river and enters the horror of Cruor, I listen to the sound of the unicorn’s song underscored by Taar’s deep voice: “It will be over soon. I’m here. I’m here, Ilsevel.”

Then, in a whisper I almost miss:“I’ll always be here for you.”

I shouldn’t feel this way. I mustn’t. And yet I do. Even in this world, surrounded by evil, with enemies on every side and nowhere safe to flee, something in me knows I am safe with this man. It feels so wrong, so unnatural. I’ve never felt safe before, not with anyone. Even Faraine, whom I’ve always loved wholeheartedly, used her powerful gods-gift to manipulate me into accepting marriage to the Shadow King. And Aurae, sweet and dear, tried to convince me to submit and accept my fate. No one ever stood with me; I’ve always been alone.

But now—Taar.

He didn’t give up on me. He didn’t throw up his hands and declare me too much, too little, too troublesome, too painful. He came for me. At the risk of everything: his life, his honor, his people. He’s done nothing from the moment I met him but risk his life for me over and over again. Even when I least deserved it, when I disobeyed and betrayed him.

He shouldn’t have done it. Gods-damn us both, he should have left me in that pit! What will become of him now? What willbecome of his people if they forsake the king who forsook them first? It all seems so great and huge and terrible.

Yet here in the dark, with hell closing in on all sides, and only a song to protect us . . . with Taar’s arms wrapped around me and his voice crooning in my ear . . . I am safe.

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