The Unmaking (The Last Days of Tian Di, #2)(93)
“I go where you go, Cap’n.”
“Please dinnay call me that.”
“Cannay help it. So you’re really nay going back to the Citadel?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I nary liked that place.”
Eliza looked at him fondly. The firelight cast leaping shadows across his face.
“You should have told me how badly hurt you were,” she chided him. “I’d nary have left you alone if I’d known.”
“There wasnay time,” he said. “I couldnay help you anymore but I didnay want you stuck helping me.”
“But Charlie, lah, you might have died.”
“We all might have died.”
She cast her eyes down at the fire and said, “I dinnay know what I’d do without you.”
He put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s nary find out,” he said.
~~~
Leaving the others by the fire, Eliza walked along the dark beach. Small waves lapped at her ankles, quick and urgent as if trying to get her attention, the frothy fringe of the vast ocean. The Urkleis was lodged in her chest like an inescapable horror, Nia’s terrible will turned against itself and frozen. Her ravens circled over her head. They did not need to speak to her; she understood the warning they carried. She could turn her back on the Mancers, maybe, but not on what she was. She would have to find her own path now. She turned around and looked back at the fire, a bright glow down the beach where her friends slept. Water washed over her feet – swish, swish, swish. The tide was coming in.
Chapter
23
Malferio, once King of the Faeries, stumbled through a haze of pain and fear and foulness. He did not know these lands. He did not know where he was. But every bird and beast, every blade of grass meant him ill, he knew that much. His mind was fixed in a grinding rage on she who had laid this Curse on him. If he could tear out his own life to end hers, he would do it.
He came to a foul-smelling river with dangerous currents. It did not burble pleasantly the way the rivers he had once known had done. It screamed. He fell on his knees, exhausted, and the ground cut into him. He could hardly breathe for the stench of the air.
A figure was approaching. Fear pressed in on him. He was powerless and despised and so he feared all beings. He tried to see through the shadows that clouded his vision. It was something almost fiery in the dreary landscape. Something bright white. He tried to back away but his limbs were too weak.
“Help me!” he screamed, and scooped up a handful of dirt. It burned his hand and he threw it at the being. “Help me!”
The being knelt at his side and he saw who it was.
“Help me,” he whispered again.
“I will help you, Malferio,” said Kyreth.
Acknowledgements
My thanks and my love to the family and friends who have been on my side for so long that my side wouldn’t exist without them: Jonathan Service, for making me maps and always believing I can be a better writer than I am; Gillian Bright, for cheering me on; Mick Hunter, for making everything possible and never (seriously, not once!) complaining; David Egan, who gets my stories so well because he grew up inside so many of them; Michael and Janice Egan, not only for reading drafts of the book but for putting me up and putting up with me for chunks of writing said drafts; Jordan and Joshua Egan, for their enthusiasm when I most needed it; my grandmother, Kato Havas, for her support, honesty, and invaluable criticism from the first novel I ever wrote at age six to my current work-in-progress; and my parents, for more than I could possibly say.
Heartfelt thanks are also due to Laura Peetoom, for editing the book and for always being so completely right, and to all the wonderful, talented people at Coteau Books, for taking a chance on me in the first place and for turning my stories into such beautiful books.
About the Author
Catherine Egan made her debut as a fantasy novelist with the bestselling first book in this series, Shade and Sorceress. Her short fiction has appeared in many literary journals in the United States and Canada. A world traveller, she now lives with her family in New Haven, CT. Readers can follow Catherine’s experimental Twittertales – stories told in three tweets a day – on Twitter: @ByCatherineEgan or by visiting her website at www.catherineegan.com.