[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

he would be required to make an attempt at weaving, an attempt he was sure would fail.
 You can do this, Squire Bardon, said Granny Kye.  Concentrate on the edges, relax, follow the
pattern. I see what needs to be done, and although I have never tried, I am willing. Show me, and I ll
follow your lead.
 This is pointless, Granny Kye. I merely did what the others did. I don t remember.
 Relax, son.
More to appease the old woman than with a real conviction that something would happen, Bardon stared
at the flowing threads of color. At first the frustration of being put in this position rumbled through his
brain. Then Greer s presence seemed so real that Bardon glanced away from the weakening gateway to
see if the dragon were really in the glen. The feeling faded immediately, so he turned back to focus with
Granny Kye on the threads binding the edge of the portal. Greer s presence returned, and Bardon
realized it was in his memory. The likeness and voice of Sir Dar also flitted through his mind.
The next image was of Kale, and the impression strengthened with every breath he took. He wanted to
reach out and touch her. He heard her voice.
 It s like the beat of a drum behind the music, Bardon. Just react to the rhythm.
He knew she had said these exact words to him before.
The sensation of his friends being at hand intensified the comfortable state of mind that Greer had started.
He saw a loose thread and where the end should pass between two others. The colored line moved of its
own accord and slipped into place. He spotted the next errant strand and located its true position. The
thread moved. When he aided in the building of a huge gateway in a swampland in Trese, he had acted in
response to the arrangement established by someone else. He would never claim it was his own instinct.
Now he realized he was the one creating the sequence and beat.
In addition to Kale, Bardon recognized the presence of Cam, Fen, Lyll, and Regidor. He knew these
people did not physically stand beside him, yet their proximity seemed more real than that of Granny
Kye, who stood within his arms with her back against his chest and her head tucked under his chin.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Bromptotterpindosset approaching the gateway. He wanted to call
out, to say,  Not yet. But the words would not form in his throat. The tumanhofer stood close to the
brightening lights and seemed to examine them. Bardon chose to ignore him. His presence interfered with
the rhythm. Bardon did notice when the tumanhofer moved away from the gateway. A sense of gratitude
washed over him. He wanted to be left alone with his task. Granny Kye s synchronized assistance made
her feel like a part of him rather than an annoyance.
A blow to his back shattered his concentration. He loosed the granny and whirled around to see the
mapmaker engaged in a fight with two soldiers. Bardon was surprised to note the coolness of the air, the
dim light of dusk. Night hovered, about to take over.
The bisonbecks loomed over the battling tumanhofer. Bromptotterpindosset wielded a spiked club,
obviously one he had picked up in the enemy s camp as he escaped. Bardon drew his sword, and his
movement caught the attention of one of the men.
This soldier growled and left his comrade to batter the short, old tumanhofer. Bromptotterpindosset had
been holding his own against the two. Now he hurled his body sideways at the remaining soldier s knees
and knocked him to the ground. Bardon had no more time to observe the mapmaker s next move.
Bardon s attacker opened his wide mouth and roared as he charged. The beastly man clenched two
knives above his head in powerful arms. He seemed determined to plunge his weapons into the squire.
Bardon sidestepped and sliced the man s torso as he passed. The bisonbeck bellowed. An answering
roar sent shivers down Bardon s spine. The hair on his arms stood.
Reinforcements echoed the bisonbecks war cries. Somewhere in the woods, other enemy warriors
closed in on the dilapidated gateway. He and his friends would soon be trapped.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tumanhofer had gained another weapon from his opponent.
Bardon ducked a blow from the soldier he fought. He vaulted into the air and flipped to come down on
the hulk s other side. He kicked a stout arm out of his way, spun, and thrust his sword into the brute s
chest. If these warriors had been dressed in battle array, the fight would have lasted longer.
He turned to assist Bromptotterpindosset and found the tumanhofer standing over a downed soldier.
Blood flowed from the man s forehead where the mapmaker had planted the club.
A howl arose from the woods.
 Time to leave, said Bromptotterpindosset. He rushed to Granny Kye s side and took hold of her arm.
She hadn t moved from the spot where Bardon had left her.
 Oh, I agree, said the small emerlindian.  I ve never seen a bisonbeck up close before. They are
extremely tall, aren t they?
 Extremely, answered the tumanhofer and guided her toward the gateway. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]