The stars were out, gleaming down bright against the snow-covered landscape as Thordin sat quietly on one of the old concrete benches at the end of the bridge. He stared out over the plaza, breath steaming in the darkness. The stitches in his cheek tugged, his ribs ached with each breath.
But I’ll live to see another day, just like the rest of them.
It had been a near thing with Phelan, he knew that for certain. Jacqueline had made them all swear they wouldn’t talk about what she’d done. The secret, he knew, would eat at the heart of him.
She was so touched by Jehovah’s power, by the power of the followers of the Christos, that it was almost painful to witness when she reached out her hand to it.
His eyes stung, and not from the cold. She could do so much with the gift she’s been given.
He had seen that power before, long ago in another life, before mortality became the order of his day, before the tree and that terrible day in the woods when hunters and their dogs had ripped him apart. That was when he’d known why the gods of the world’s heart had begun their inexorable retreat, why some of the Southron clans had been so desperate.
His own people had been far more blasé about the whole affair and their enemies had taken terrible advantage.
“All will be well, now,” he whispered to himself. “The Dragon is here, Neve is here and safe, the Taliesin is whole and has an angel to love him. All will be well.”
Then why does dread gnaw at my belly like a dog worrying a bone?
He suppressed the urge to shudder, staring at the snow that glittered under sunlight. Had it only been a few months since the world had been shattered, since he’d abandoned his hermitage in the Poconos to wander once more? That had been the right decision, as he’d come across Neve and Cameron just in time to help them. Still, something gnawed at him, clawed at his very soul.
There is something else out there we need to be doing. But what is it?
He’d have to talk to Phelan. Phelan would know, he’d understand.
He was the bloody Taliesin. If anyone knew—if it was possible to know—the puckish bastard did and would be able to tell him what it was.
“And once we know,” Thordin murmured to himself, “we can set ourselves on the path to do it.”
Whatever the cost may be.
Sounds rather eerie. But then, lots of their lives have been eerie or worse.
Thanks for the update.