Shards of Time by Lynn Flewelling

Author:Lynn Flewelling [Flewelling, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Doggedly putting one foot in front of the other, Alec followed the river up into the grassy hills. There were no birds singing, no trees, not even a breeze to stir the dead air. It was neither hot nor cold, but vaguely muggy. It was still early morning, if you could trust the light in this place, but he felt like he’d been walking for days without food or water.

“Please, Illior, don’t let me die in this awful place,” he whispered hoarsely, nearing the end of his strength. Perhaps the Lightbearer had heard him, for a few moments later he noticed something very strange ahead of him—a patch of blackness hovering in the air just off the road, rippling like a silk scarf in a breeze.

He approached it cautiously, suspicious but desperate. Could this be how he’d gotten here, through some sort of rent in the air? Stopping within arm’s reach, he stared into the center of it, but it showed only blackness. As he stood there, baffled, it rippled again, brushing his face and chest—

—no dawn sky, no rushing river. All was silent and pitch-black. Reaching out, Alec felt smooth wall under his hand. The ground was level and hard under his feet, and the air smelled of dust and fresh plaster. Completely disoriented, he reached down and felt the floor: dressed stone, no carpet. That, and the smell of plaster, gave him hope that he was back in the Hierophant’s palace. He chose a direction and felt his way along the wall until he saw light ahead, streaming in through a glazed window. Reaching it, he could make out a few newly built villas outside that looked familiar. Deciding it was safer outside than here in the dark, he opened the window and climbed painfully out onto a dewy verge next to a paved street. He was somehow back in Menosi.

Weak and in considerable pain, he still relished the chill breeze and smell of new growth as he staggered around to the front entrance where uniformed guards were standing around a brazier in front of the stairs leading up to the huge carved doors. They saw him and came running to his aid. Supporting him with their arms around his waist, two of them helped him to the brazier.

“It’s Baron Alec!” the sergeant in charge exclaimed. “Where have you been, my lord? Your companions are frantic.”

“I don’t know,” Alec gasped, shaking with hunger, thirst, and exhaustion. “Where’s Seregil?”

“Tonil, Sera, fetch Baron Seregil and the others,” the sergeant ordered. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped it around Alec and helped him sit down on the steps. Someone offered him a waterskin and he drank deeply. It was cool, sweet, and real. A few moments later the great doors swung open again and Seregil dashed down the steps to where Alec sat shivering in the borrowed cloak.

“By the Light, Alec, where have you been?” he asked breathlessly, sitting beside him and brushing loose strands of hair back from Alec’s face to look him over.

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