others. They fairly destroyed that city
trying to capture us . . . and she was in Kenvard, all of those
years ago. They did it then too. It was because of her, Deacon . .
. “ she struggled, a lump in her throat. “They destroyed
Kenvard . . . to get her !”
The tears broke through as she fought to keep
from sobbing.
“Myranda, please . . . Don't do this to
yourself,” Deacon pleaded.
“He knew just what to say. That line about my
mother. It does no good to anyone. No one who reads it will
remember her. No one will even know she was from Kenvard. But he
knew I would see it,” she said with a wavering voice.
“Who?” Deacon asked.
“Epidime. He was in my head. He knew just
what it would take. He knew I would make the connection and only I
could,” she hissed. “The other names. The ones from Lain's book.
They were his idea too. I feel it. His fingers. Manipulating all of
this. I can almost feel him in my head, even now.”
“What good does it do him to lead you to
this?” Deacon asked.
“Ivy . . . is the reason my family is dead!”
she replied.
“It wasn't her . . . “ Deacon began.
“I know, I know!” she interrupted. “It wasn't
her fault. She didn't know they were coming. She couldn't have done
anything to stop it. She didn't make the decision to stay. Do you
really think any of that matters? Do you think knowing that will
let me face her without feeling the pain all over again? How can I
fight beside her when I know, in my heart, that if it weren't for
her, everyone I love would still be alive? My life would not have
been cast away, all of those thousands of lives would not have been
trampled. When she was born . . . she doomed them all!”
“Myranda, this is just what Epidime wants to
happen! You can't let him control you like this!” Deacon urged.
“What do you know?! How could you even
imagine how I feel ? All of my life I have been torn apart.
Adrift. I spent years blaming the soldiers who swept over us. The
soldiers who failed to turn them away, but none of it made any
sense. It was too quick, too big. Somehow, after so long, I'd
almost been able to get past it. Now to have it re-awakened! To
have the pain come back! And to have a face put on it! The
face of a friend ! Do you really believe that I can just put
it behind me?” she cried.
“Myranda. I left all of the people that I
ever cared about behind when I came here. I know they aren't dead,
but they may as well be. I'll never see them again. Worse, I know
that those who do remember me will remember me in disgrace. But I
did it. I left them forever. And I do not regret it. Because I know
that coming here had a greater meaning. I knew that finding you
would make me whole, and helping you would save the world. That is
what the people gave their lives for. They aren't victims, they are
martyrs of this war. You must remember that,” he said.
Myranda's gaze hung low, her eyes too clouded
with tears to see. After a moment she looked up. There was an
opening ahead. The others would meet them soon. She wiped the tears
from her eyes, the icy breeze freezing them to the rough cloth of
the cloak. A few more minutes in the whipping wind and blown snow
brought the two wizards to that which Myranda never would have
believed could have existed. It was a road. Narrow, to be sure, but
better maintained than most she'd seen even in the days before this
mad quest. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Most roads
through the mountains hugged the mountainside or conformed to
valleys between, but this one was almost perfectly straight, and
nearly level. As the mountains rose up around it, it had been bored
down into them until it was a tunnel disappearing into the inky
blackness. From the looks of it, most of the road would be made up
of such tunnels. The road itself was made of gravel, and the fact
that it was not embedded in a solid mass of ice betrayed the fact
that great efforts must have been made to keep this path safe for
travel. The one
trying to capture us . . . and she was in Kenvard, all of those
years ago. They did it then too. It was because of her, Deacon . .
. “ she struggled, a lump in her throat. “They destroyed
Kenvard . . . to get her !”
The tears broke through as she fought to keep
from sobbing.
“Myranda, please . . . Don't do this to
yourself,” Deacon pleaded.
“He knew just what to say. That line about my
mother. It does no good to anyone. No one who reads it will
remember her. No one will even know she was from Kenvard. But he
knew I would see it,” she said with a wavering voice.
“Who?” Deacon asked.
“Epidime. He was in my head. He knew just
what it would take. He knew I would make the connection and only I
could,” she hissed. “The other names. The ones from Lain's book.
They were his idea too. I feel it. His fingers. Manipulating all of
this. I can almost feel him in my head, even now.”
“What good does it do him to lead you to
this?” Deacon asked.
“Ivy . . . is the reason my family is dead!”
she replied.
“It wasn't her . . . “ Deacon began.
“I know, I know!” she interrupted. “It wasn't
her fault. She didn't know they were coming. She couldn't have done
anything to stop it. She didn't make the decision to stay. Do you
really think any of that matters? Do you think knowing that will
let me face her without feeling the pain all over again? How can I
fight beside her when I know, in my heart, that if it weren't for
her, everyone I love would still be alive? My life would not have
been cast away, all of those thousands of lives would not have been
trampled. When she was born . . . she doomed them all!”
“Myranda, this is just what Epidime wants to
happen! You can't let him control you like this!” Deacon urged.
“What do you know?! How could you even
imagine how I feel ? All of my life I have been torn apart.
Adrift. I spent years blaming the soldiers who swept over us. The
soldiers who failed to turn them away, but none of it made any
sense. It was too quick, too big. Somehow, after so long, I'd
almost been able to get past it. Now to have it re-awakened! To
have the pain come back! And to have a face put on it! The
face of a friend ! Do you really believe that I can just put
it behind me?” she cried.
“Myranda. I left all of the people that I
ever cared about behind when I came here. I know they aren't dead,
but they may as well be. I'll never see them again. Worse, I know
that those who do remember me will remember me in disgrace. But I
did it. I left them forever. And I do not regret it. Because I know
that coming here had a greater meaning. I knew that finding you
would make me whole, and helping you would save the world. That is
what the people gave their lives for. They aren't victims, they are
martyrs of this war. You must remember that,” he said.
Myranda's gaze hung low, her eyes too clouded
with tears to see. After a moment she looked up. There was an
opening ahead. The others would meet them soon. She wiped the tears
from her eyes, the icy breeze freezing them to the rough cloth of
the cloak. A few more minutes in the whipping wind and blown snow
brought the two wizards to that which Myranda never would have
believed could have existed. It was a road. Narrow, to be sure, but
better maintained than most she'd seen even in the days before this
mad quest. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Most roads
through the mountains hugged the mountainside or conformed to
valleys between, but this one was almost perfectly straight, and
nearly level. As the mountains rose up around it, it had been bored
down into them until it was a tunnel disappearing into the inky
blackness. From the looks of it, most of the road would be made up
of such tunnels. The road itself was made of gravel, and the fact
that it was not embedded in a solid mass of ice betrayed the fact
that great efforts must have been made to keep this path safe for
travel. The one
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