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“Bliss…you understand, help me. Help me do this.”
“No, Lawson.” Her tone was kind, but firm. “You know the rules. You’re a Praetorian. You can’t change the past. You can’t change what’s happened. Time must be allowed to flow, and the course of history must remain unchanged. You told me that.”
“No, not in this instance. No.”
“You’ve got to let her go, Lawson. It’s the only way you’re going to be able to move forward,” Bliss said. She put a hand on his arm. “I know you loved her, but you’ve got to say goodbye.”
Lawson closed his eyes. Bliss was right. Of course she was right. He couldn’t change what had happened, not if he wanted to remain true to what he was, to what Tala had loved about him from the start.
With tears in his eyes, he watched as the door opened and Tala appeared in the doorway. He felt his heart swell with love and sadness.
Tala looked across the way, almost as if she were looking right at him, but he knew she couldn’t see him.
She had a smile on her face. She was happy. They’d been happy for a while in that little brown house. A bright and peaceful happiness after the darkness of their life in the underworld. It hadn’t lasted very long, but Lawson would treasure that love; he wouldn’t let his love destroy him. He would let it make him stronger.
Tala.
She was so beautiful and kind. She loved him so much.
Every moment in time happened all at the same moment. That was the way of it in the Passages of Time. There was no past and no future, only an endless present. And in this moment, Tala was alive, and Tala was happy. He would have this moment forever, he realized. It was not lost; he could return to it, again and again, in his memory. It would sustain him. He thought of Bliss, who had suffered a loss as well. I lost someone too, and he’s gone, she’d said. I have to let go. He would be strong for her
, he thought. He would move on, like she had.
Tala, I love you. Goodbye.
Why, Lawson, where are you going?
He recoiled. She had heard him. She looked out into the darkness with a frown on her face. Then she turned around and there he was. The Lawson from the past was standing behind her. He put his arms around her and they kissed.
Lawson remembered that kiss.
It had been a good one.
“Lawson, we’ve set the coordinates,” Bliss said. “We’re ready to go.”
He turned away from the house and followed his pack down the passage.
This time they landed in the dark, underground, deep within the earth. “We must be under the serpent mound,” Malcolm said.
“Start walking,” Rafe said.
Lawson led the group through the narrow tunnels, limping a little. Finally they reached the end of the tunnel; the sun lit the exit, and they rose out of the ground, one by one, until they were all standing next to the serpent mound. Lawson signaled the team to remain behind him. He looked down at the ground. It was covered in blood, a dark red stain on the dirt and grass.
“Marrok?” he whispered.
What had happened here? He felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, a knot of guilt forming at the thought of what he’d left the wolves behind to do.
“Hounds?” Bliss asked.
Malcolm shook his head. “I think they’re gone,” he said. “I feel fine.”
Rain began to fall, lightly, in cold drops. The sun remained in the sky but its light faded, though not enough to block the sight of a body, just steps past the entrance. It was Ulric, the big wolf. He’d been gutted from belly to throat. It made sense that he would have been the last to fall; Lawson remembered from the pits he’d been a fierce warrior. It appeared the wolves had held off the hounds as long as they could, but ultimately they had lost. The field was strewn with the corpses of dead wolves, some in human form, some in their wolf skin. There were dead hounds too; Lawson noted with satisfaction that the wolves had taken down many of them, more than he’d expected them to.
“Ulf,” a voice called.
Lawson saw Marrok lying motionless in the damp earth. A black sword was wedged in his chest. The rain had begun to wash the wound clear, but Marrok had lacked the strength to remove it. The metal glistened in the faint sunlight.
Lawson removed the blade. Marrok began to heave with pain. The rain grew stronger and poured over his face, welling in his eyes and nostrils. His skin was pale and still, almost lifeless. Lawson pressed a firm hand to the cut and dark blood flowed outward through his fingers. He said the words that Arthur had taught him, and prayed that Marrok would heal.
