AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He still wore his great bow over one shoulder, the curved black yew like a horn growing out of his back. Beneath his finery, Charlie saw his many thousands of years alive, and countless battles won.
But Corayne looked to Charlon Armont, a wayward priest and fugitive. A coward in most things.
“What should we do, Charlie?” she asked in a small, broken voice.
Charlie opened his mouth. He knew what he wanted. Go back into the forest, avoid the dragons, and gallop all the way across the mountains.We must run and keep running, he thought, willing his mouth to say the words.Every second we waste is another second closer to Taristan’s victory.
Even Charlie could admit it was not logic speaking. But his own wretched fear.
“I’ve seen enough Spindles to last a lifetime,” he said thickly, every word heavy on his tongue. He regretted each letter. “But we can’t—we can’t leave this one. Not if there’s a chance we can close it.”
Garion made a strangled, frustrated noise low in his throat, but little else, to Charlie’s relief.
Corayne only loosed a long, slow breath, then nodded once. Her eyes went to the Spindleblade, finding the red and purple jewels. They were dull in the dim light, unassuming. As if the blade was not the key to saving or ending the realm.
“You’re right,” she finally murmured. “I’m sorry you’re right.”
Charlie tried to smile for Corayne, to lift some of the great burden she carried. The best he could do was a twitching grimace.
“So am I,” he answered.
It was a little more than a day’s ride to the ruins of Vergon, and Valnir took no chances with his kin. They camped for the night several miles from Vergon, the Elders circling to take council together. Valnir sent his scouts out again, ranging to form a safe perimeter around the dragon’s roost. If anything went awry, they could ride back to Sirandel for aid.
Not that help would reach us in time, Elder or not, Charlie knew. Even the swiftest horse and finest rider would arrive to find them all burned or eaten.
From his vantage point above the valley, Charlie watched the changing miles. Some clouds lifted by sunset, the last rays of light chasing away the lingering fog in the river valley.
Vergon stood on a hill on the riverbank, half a mile off the old Cor road. The ruins seemed small from such a distance, barely a smudge. Just another pile of tumbled stone and memory. The sunlight could not penetrate the broken towers and collapsed walls. Shadows pooled in the rubble.
Charlie squinted at it, morbid. He looked for the edge of a jeweled wing or a curl of smoke, but the dragon hid well.
“At least the last sunset we ever see is a good one,” Garion sighed, perched on a mossy stone beside him. A sword lay across his knees and he cleaned it diligently, working the edge with an oilcloth.
“Where’s your rapier?” Charlie said, noting the unfamiliar blade in Garion’s lap.
The assassin raised the Elder-made sword, inspecting its slightly curved edge.
“I thought this better for slaying monsters.”
The corner of Charlie’s mouth twitched, torn between smirk and frown. “I should trade myself out for someone of more use.”
He forced a laugh when Garion would not, the Amhara’s lovely face going tight.
Sighing, Charlie eased himself down to sit at Garion’s side.
“Am I supposed to clean mine too?” he muttered, indicating the blade, a gift from the Elders, now hanging at his waist.
“Don’t bother, this is more for me than the blade,” Garion said. His hands moved steadily, his focus on the steel.
Their shoulders touched.
“We don’t need to be here, Charlie.” The wind almost swallowed Garion’s low words. “Two hundred Elders and a Cor princess? They don’t need us.”
He didn’t need to say it out loud for Charlie to understand.We don’t need to die.
Under his cloak, beneath a leather jerkin and quilted tunic, Charlie’s heart quickened. Every second on the hill felt against his own nature. He need only turn away, take a horse, and be gone, returning to the fugitive road. He still had his bags of ink and parchment, his beautiful seals. He could make a life for himself in any forgotten corner he chose. With Garion too. But Charlie remained, the stone cold beneath him.
“‘I will try.’ That’s what you said in the forest,” Charlie muttered. “That you would try to believe.”
