plaintive and weary, not angry.
“But you can’t simply return. Your situation may reveal things to us, Pithar. If indeed you are the lucky one then share that good fortune with us,” Crea said.
“Lucky,” he snickered under his breath.
“Come Pithar,” Blodwyn reached out her hand but he hesitated. “Don’t do this. Please. We need to share,” she whispered in his ear. “We can’t be as effective if we don’t link. Give me your hand.”
Edging forward, Pithar grasped her fingers and the others each joined as well. The mind merge began instantly upon completion of the circle. Thoughts and images rushed from one to the other, flooding the minds of the Chosen. Their heart’s jumped at Tomas’ despair when he learned of his betrayal. Crea staggered and righted himself. Blodwyn gritted her teeth. Even Pithar recoiled at the sensations surging through him. He understood the boy. He felt what Tomas felt. Sharing this way brought them so much closer together. They took each other’s experiences for their own and remembered them in this way.
Visions passed from one to the next, unrestricted by words; sad ones and happy ones, tragedies and triumphs. News of the 11th shard and of Premoran’s escape from his brother’s clutches, visions of the shields Sidra created, Wayfair’s admonition to Tamara regarding the map, Blodwyn’s confusion and concern when Lilandre withdrew from her along with her tree’s worries about the fate of the map became common knowledge. Dashiel’s speculations that Tamarand was the Dark One’s next target blew over them like a chilled wind across naked skin. Edmond’s rejection by his Lalas when he questioned him about the new tree in Pardatha was equally disturbing. The joy the youngling’s birth brought to the trees and to the earth was clear and unmitigated and its image shone before their minds’ eyes. Farrow refused Harton’s entreaty regarding the whereabouts of the map and his suffering became theirs.
Colton loomed over the deliberations, an evil presence, and his essence bled into their thoughts, linked somehow to the Lalas’ reclusive silence. A great army of shadows rose in the south, an unnatural army, neither living nor dead, born of Colton’s anger and desire for revenge. The sounds pounded in their heads as the warriors flattened the earth. All the while, the ring burned in the background of each Chosen’s mind, branding their memories with its searing image.
The exertion was great and they were tiring. Blodwyn began to pull her mind back and the others followed. Before the link was broken, an evanescent thought, encapsulated though it was, escaped from Pithar’s consciousness despite his efforts to constrain it. Dashiel stood next to him and his head whipped back as if stricken. Liam gripped Edmond’s and Crea’s hands so tight their fingers cracked. The thought sped from one to the next, looming like a specter before each of them. Harton doubled over and wretched, while Liam choked on its bitterness as it came crashing through the barrier of his senses.
“You should have told us Pithar,” Crea struggled to form the words. “How long did you think you could keep this information hidden?”
“What possessed you Pithar?” Blodwyn echoed, astounded.
“You knew we’d learn of this soon anyway. Why Pithar? Why?” Tobias whispered, his eyes sad blue pools.
Pithar didn’t move. He stared at the ground in silence.
“Pithar! Look at us,” Liam pleaded.
He shifted his weight and lifted his chin. His skin was pale and pasty, and his bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears.
“When I learned of Marathar’s illness, even I could not accept it at first,” he spoke in a monotone. “I lived in denial for a long while. I could not eat or sleep. This knowledge has consumed me since.” He dropped his friend’s hands. “Listening to you talk about breaking the bond was too much for me to bear. I haven’t come to grips with this yet myself, and I wished to
“But you can’t simply return. Your situation may reveal things to us, Pithar. If indeed you are the lucky one then share that good fortune with us,” Crea said.
“Lucky,” he snickered under his breath.
“Come Pithar,” Blodwyn reached out her hand but he hesitated. “Don’t do this. Please. We need to share,” she whispered in his ear. “We can’t be as effective if we don’t link. Give me your hand.”
Edging forward, Pithar grasped her fingers and the others each joined as well. The mind merge began instantly upon completion of the circle. Thoughts and images rushed from one to the other, flooding the minds of the Chosen. Their heart’s jumped at Tomas’ despair when he learned of his betrayal. Crea staggered and righted himself. Blodwyn gritted her teeth. Even Pithar recoiled at the sensations surging through him. He understood the boy. He felt what Tomas felt. Sharing this way brought them so much closer together. They took each other’s experiences for their own and remembered them in this way.
Visions passed from one to the next, unrestricted by words; sad ones and happy ones, tragedies and triumphs. News of the 11th shard and of Premoran’s escape from his brother’s clutches, visions of the shields Sidra created, Wayfair’s admonition to Tamara regarding the map, Blodwyn’s confusion and concern when Lilandre withdrew from her along with her tree’s worries about the fate of the map became common knowledge. Dashiel’s speculations that Tamarand was the Dark One’s next target blew over them like a chilled wind across naked skin. Edmond’s rejection by his Lalas when he questioned him about the new tree in Pardatha was equally disturbing. The joy the youngling’s birth brought to the trees and to the earth was clear and unmitigated and its image shone before their minds’ eyes. Farrow refused Harton’s entreaty regarding the whereabouts of the map and his suffering became theirs.
Colton loomed over the deliberations, an evil presence, and his essence bled into their thoughts, linked somehow to the Lalas’ reclusive silence. A great army of shadows rose in the south, an unnatural army, neither living nor dead, born of Colton’s anger and desire for revenge. The sounds pounded in their heads as the warriors flattened the earth. All the while, the ring burned in the background of each Chosen’s mind, branding their memories with its searing image.
The exertion was great and they were tiring. Blodwyn began to pull her mind back and the others followed. Before the link was broken, an evanescent thought, encapsulated though it was, escaped from Pithar’s consciousness despite his efforts to constrain it. Dashiel stood next to him and his head whipped back as if stricken. Liam gripped Edmond’s and Crea’s hands so tight their fingers cracked. The thought sped from one to the next, looming like a specter before each of them. Harton doubled over and wretched, while Liam choked on its bitterness as it came crashing through the barrier of his senses.
“You should have told us Pithar,” Crea struggled to form the words. “How long did you think you could keep this information hidden?”
“What possessed you Pithar?” Blodwyn echoed, astounded.
“You knew we’d learn of this soon anyway. Why Pithar? Why?” Tobias whispered, his eyes sad blue pools.
Pithar didn’t move. He stared at the ground in silence.
“Pithar! Look at us,” Liam pleaded.
He shifted his weight and lifted his chin. His skin was pale and pasty, and his bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears.
“When I learned of Marathar’s illness, even I could not accept it at first,” he spoke in a monotone. “I lived in denial for a long while. I could not eat or sleep. This knowledge has consumed me since.” He dropped his friend’s hands. “Listening to you talk about breaking the bond was too much for me to bear. I haven’t come to grips with this yet myself, and I wished to
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