Plague of Spells by Cordell Bruce R

Author:Cordell, Bruce R. [Cordell, Bruce R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780786949656
Published: 2008-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) West of Nathlan

No food passed Raidon Kane’s lips. Every so often he sipped from his waterskin. His eyes were open, but he looked inward. Memory became theater, disgorging his past. He retrieved and relived every event that contained Ailyn. A master of his own mind, Raidon’s recollection was extensive.

On the second day, tears brimmed, and then broke from his eyes. Raidon tasted salt.

On the third day, he sighed. He reached into his pouch and produced a ration composed of dried dates, almonds, and apples. He nibbled. Later, he ate the entire close-packed morsel, and then another.

On the fourth day, Raidon levered himself to his feet with the aid of the great, dirt-grimed boulder. Pain knifed through his stiff joints. Physical pain was something to which he was becoming accustomed. Others might have taken the agony as an omen of their own inadequacy. Raidon decided to perceive the new barbs and the lingering aches as evidence of his continued existence. His hurts were a connection to his past he couldn’t gainsay. Pain grounded him and held him sane when images of Ailyn bringing him a daffodil during Spring Feast, Ailyn receiving a gold Cormyrean coin from his hand, Ailyn looking for him in a game of sneak-and-hide… these and other poignant memories threatened to crack him wide open, again.

The mountain on the horizon remained steadfastly in the sky, defying nature and perhaps even Silvanus… assuming that one had survived into the present. According to the golem that spoke from nowhere, even the gods were in disarray these days, as their lofty realms buckled and crumbled toward a new balance.

Raidon rubbed his chin, wondering why the sentient effigy had not attempted to renew their conversation. If it lay buried in an extra-planar dungeon, the golem must be lonely. Then again, it wasn’t alive—it was a magical construct. Perhaps concepts like loneliness held no meaning for it.

His voice rough from disuse, Raidon addressed the air. “Cynosure, are you near?”

“Of course, Raidon,” came the instant reply.

The monk said, “I am glad. The world has moved on without me, it seems. All save for you.”

“I was never part of the world, Raidon, at least until you woke. I resigned myself to decades more darkness. Then light broke from the void when you first called on the power of your Sign, and I knew I was not forsaken. Of the two of us, I would hazard that I am the one who feels most glad.”

Raidon nodded. Perhaps the construct could feel something like loneliness after all. But could it feel loss? When it recalled past acquaintances now gone, did a hollow cavity in its chest emanate a hopeless tide that threatened mental desolation? He didn’t trust himself to reply, fearing his voice would shake.

After a few moments, Cynosure asked, “What do you propose to do, Raidon?”

“I know one thing, golem; I hunger. I need food.”

“And after you find sustenance? What will you do?”

The monk shook his head in negation.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.