
They say bad news rides a fast horse.
No one said anything about it
riding a dead one, and the black destrier my uncle now rode toward me had died
two years ago.
Even though the copse of
trees shielded me, he crossed the pasture as if he knew exactly where I stood.
My mind ticked down a list of things I had eaten that might cause
hallucinations. There wasn’t a mushroom in the bunch.
Beside me, a ewe stared at
the approaching apparition, nervously flicking her ears. Then she bunted my
leg, reminding me of the lamb still tangled in the witchberry vines. I knelt
back down and finished cutting him loose. The lamb latched onto his mother’s
swollen udder, but she remained fixed on the rider. As did I.
As he neared, she stamped in
apprehension and then bounded away with her youngster. I wanted to follow. My
mind screamed at me to run, but my feet were as firmly rooted as the tangle of
vines. He reined to a stop in front of me and dismounted, plunging the area
into a deep, winter chill. Just below his pallid face, his throat had been
sliced clean as a butcher’s cut.
My face felt as bloodless as
his and it was all I could do to keep upright. He held out his hand to steady
me.
I forced my gaze from his gaping throat
with its raw, red, flesh. The dried blood made the embroidered golden lion leaping
across his tabard look as if it were mortally wounded also. I tried to focus on
the tabard, which seemed the safest place to dwell, but my gaze wandered,
leaving me sickened at the extent of his injuries. His right shoulder was
sheared nearly off so his arm dangled unnaturally. He had been stabbed in the
ribs. There were other wounds showing through the ragged mail and cloth. He had
not been taken easily.
“You’re
dead.” I expected the nonsense whisper to form a fog.
“There are different
levels of existence, Kaelyn.” My full name was reserved for when I was in
trouble or for very serious talks. His icy hand stroked my hair as he had done many
times before. “I’m in another room. You mustn’t worry about me. You have
your own path, as I had mine.”
“You can’t leave me.”
I wasn’t above pleading.
He tilted my chin up and
wiped my tears with frozen fingers, but tears welled in his own eyes. “I
died, but I’m still here. I’m between the veils.”