Chapter 14.1.2

Peter responded to his offer by shoving me forward; Charles caught me before I sprawled in the snow. They worked together to put me in the stiff saddle of the warhorse. Peter tied me in with roped while Charles shorted the stirrups to feet my feet. When my sleeves fell back to reveal the raw flesh on my wrists, I heard the knight suck in his breath.

He had yet to see my face or ribs.

"Which way do you travel?" Charles asked.

Peter pointed toward Krast.

"The town is filled with soldiers." His tone was light, disinterested, as if gossiping. "They’re searching every house and building, and stopping every one, looking for people who left Rockridge last night. It might be easier for us if we went a different way."

We could go over the pass and into the Badlands, passing Rockridge on the way, or into the Eastern Green Forest. Perhaps, while the sun shone, the powers of the forest would be weak. If we could pass before sunset, we might be safe. There was a better chance among the enchanted boughs than with the soldiers, slim as it was.

I nodded. We would follow Peter’s path, after all. Hopefully it was the same one that the Master of Paths wished me to travel.

As we moved forward down the road, I thought of Elise. Was she safe? Would the soldiers recognize her, as well as Jason and Ison? Or would her sister’s gifts be enough to protect them? What did Charles know? I waited until he glanced back to check on me, and clumsily signed, "What of the lady and the harp?"

"It’s a good thing for you two that I happened to be free. I had just decided to go on a pilgrimage, and had planned to travel with companions, but they went on without me. The whole lot of them. It’s my own fault, of course. They sent the message for me to come, but I was too much into my cups and dice to pay any heed."

Charles? Drinking and gambling?

Then I realized what he was saying. My lord and my oldest friend had summoned Charles to go with them, but he ignored his lord and stayed for the one they were leaving behind. Not all Christians were evil. But Elise had gone with them, and taken my harp.

What had they said to make her leave me? That I was dead?

Probably. If not for Peter, I would have been.

Charles continued on, as if he was bothered by what he said. "I do not think I broke faith with my companions. I believe they broke faith with me, by leaving before they knew that all of our company was free. And I had made a promise that I found bound to keep. Do you think I did wrong?"

Peter lifted his hands, palms up. Those of his order do not judge.

Chapter 14.1.1

Sir Charles, by all the gods of nature and man! My lord had left behind the hidden dirk when he fled the castle, and Charles had known where to wait when he heard that a monk had disappeared. He must have been waiting for some time, as his cloak was caked with snow and he slid stiffly from the saddle.

He stepped forward enough that I could see his face, then he quickly sheathed his sword and threw himself on the ground. "Forgive me! I did not mean to threaten a pair of God’s own servants! May I be allowed, for my penance, to care for these who I have wronged. I will give my horse and the service of my hands, so that they may ride in comfort through the snow and ice."

He should have been a Bard.

Chapter 13.4.3

We made our way down the narrow trail, Peter and I. I stumbled at times, and Peter kept me from falling, but I was safe when we reached the floor. The old hermit was gone from his camp, but I had Peter fetch wood for his fire anyway. Then we followed the path out, and stepped from the darkness of the earth into the grayness of morning. We had not beaten the dawn.

Nor the soldiers. Through a curtain of snow I could see the shadow of a warhorse, and astride her a man as wide as a mountain, with a sword in his hand. He could have been any of Lord Guerney’s soldiers, as his face was hidden by a thick grey cloak. The horse stamped at our presence. The soldier turned, raised his sword, and said, "You owe me a book, monk!"

Chapter 13.4.2

The path seemed longer than the last time I had traveled it. I scraped the crusty surface of the tunnel, and I stumbled on the uneven floor. Peter kept me from knocking my head on the ceiling, as I was pulled down when he bent over, but I often caught my shoulder on the side at the narrower parts. Bruised and bleeding more than when I started, I stepped with gratitude onto the narrow ledge that looked over the great cavern.

Then remembered the narrow, slick switchback trail. It had been a test when I was well, but now it was an impossibility. I sank to my knees, defeated.

The shadows of the cavern lightened, and I saw the stone dragon. He shifted, his wings spreading slightly, and turned his head toward me. Emerald eyes glittering, he spoke in a voice that shook the mountain. "If you think this path is hopeless, it will be. If you see it as only a challenge to overcome, you will."

I rose to my feet. Peter did not move, as if turned to stone when the dragon came to life.

Was this a demon or a god? It spoke, and thus was more likely the latter – but only one of our gods is known to take the form of a dragon, and that is a god who is far above the affairs of mere mortals. So this must be a demon. Irritated at its impudence, I thought, And where does your path lead, that I must suffer to travel it?

My thoughts came out as words, spoken in the voice I did not have.

The dragon’s throne began to shine with a light that would have dimmed the sun, then the damp stone became gold and silver that looped up and cascaded down the sides. Glittering jewels – rubies, sapphires, and diamonds – crusted the armrests and backrests that curved up from the soft velvet seat. The dragon now had emerald scales and ruby eyes, and his breast plate and underwings gleamed gold. When he spread his wings a moonbow cast across the darkness, touching the far wall. The stone opened, letting a multitude of beings creep forth. Demons, spirits, and animals crept forward and lay down at the base of the throne.

A crown of fire circled his head as the throne turned milky-white, a swirl of clouds. The whiteness parted, showing the whole world beneath the dragon, his wide wings covering what is, what has been, and what will be. He roared, "Do you challenge the Master of Paths?"

A god, most definitely, and none other than the oldest and greatest of them all. Mere mortal that I was, I bowed and said, "Forgive me. I only wanted to know, not to challenge."

The Master of Paths gave me a tolerant smile. "For an ignorant child, you pass the tests well. Look on this."

Beneath him, the image of the world shifted and twisted, then formed itself into unnatural warriors that fought among desolation and waste. "This will be, should you fail your greatest test. You, small but chosen one, have no small part to play in the fate of the world."

Chosen one? I was but a mute cripple, shut away from his calling, without even the support of the Christian lord who had abandoned him. And yet, if the Master of Paths himself pronounced it so, I must be, though I could not see how it could be. If the fate of the world depended upon my actions, I must be careful of them. Still, there was one thing I had a right to know.

Gathering up my courage, I said boldly, "Tell me what I must do to succeed."

"Do not turn back from the path set before you!" With that, the Master of Paths folded his wings about him, plunging the room once more into darkness.

I shook my head to clear the last of the vision. Peter stooped then, and signed in the pale light of the lamp, "You fainted. Should we rest?"

I shook my head. The command from the God had been quite clear.