Page 91 of Witchlight
Do not falter. Do not let these tales confuse you.She pressed her lips together.He is the reason for the Cleaved. He will see slow cleaving decimate the land.The proof of this was everywhere Iseult looked.
But then, so was the proof of Ragnor’s words. Cleavinghadworsened with each new Well healed.
One truth, however, did not negate another. If there was one thing Iseult had learned from Safi over the years, it was that two things could simultaneously be true. Right and wrong were not clear sides on a coin; good and bad did not adhere to easy lines.
Do not falter,the voice ordered again, and this time, Iseult knew it was her own.Shebelieved in healing the Wells becauseshebelieved in the Cahr Awen. And above all, Iseult believed in herself.
So she finished sinking low, fingers reaching for the knife. She felt her boot, wet with snow. She felt the hilt, warm from her skin. Then she levered upright, her leg lifting to carry her forward. She would need to disarm Ragnor first, then aim for that gap in his armor.
But Iseult was a few fractions of a heartbeat too slow. Ragnor saw what she intended. His Threads flared. His eyes widened. And although belief and certainty propelled her forward, Ragnor moved faster.
He sprang like an asp, and the broken blade was his fangs. It happened too quickly for Iseult to follow. Too fluidly for her to fight.
The broken blade pierced her abdomen. Through fur, through wool, through flesh, through muscle and stomach wall. No pain, for the steel was too sharp. No comprehension, for Ragnor moved with more skill than any opponent she’d ever seen.
Sever, sever. Twist and sever. Threads that break, Threads that die.
The broken sword went all the way into Iseult, right up to its cross-guard. She swiped with her tiny knife, her muscles still acting out the instructions her brain had provided them.Attack at the gap in his armor.
Her knife grazed skin. It cut muscle and sinew, releasing hot blood into the dawn. But it did not stop Ragnor.
“Take comfort,” he told her as he pushed against her shoulder and withdrew the shattered blade. “Your death will not be wasted, Iseult det Midenzi.”
Iseult fell backward then, the steel withdrawing from her by the same route it had entered. Her body hit the frozen ground. Her eyes sank shut.
Above, the sky sang with snow.
Kullen,
I sit in your tomb right now, writing this. There are two holes in the ice where the girls once slept. I expected to find that, which is why I came here. This morning, instead of pulling the usual cards, I instead drew four new ones:the Nine of Hounds, the Twins, the Giant, and the Knife.
The Nine of Hounds has always been Cam, with his nine fingers. You might not remember him, but he was the ship’s boy with me on theJana—and he is my Thread-family.
The Twins, meanwhile, can only be Lisbet and Cora from a thousand years ago. So I came here to find them, and sure enough, their tombs are empty. I would have sent the Rook to explore for me, but…
He has gone again, and I’m trying to pretend my heart isn’t hurting because of it.
I can’t stay long. The ice comes for me, and the whole mountain rattles. I keep thinking of the old skipping song Tanzi loved to sing:
When the sky splits and the mountain quakes,
Make time for good-byes,
For the Sleeper soon breaks.
I can’t let Sirmaya break, Kullen, but I also can’t stay in the Convent or the mountain or the Crypts. Not if the sisters are awake, not if Cam is near and I might find him.
I’m sorry, though.Goddess,I’msosorry that I couldn’t find a way to wake you. I see all the letters I wrote you, just lying here untouched on the floor. And now there’s a diary beside them as well—Eridysi’s. The other half of what I gave you over a year ago to read.
I didn’t put that diary there, Kullen, and I don’t know who did. But I am going to take it, in hopes that there are clues for what I am meant to do…
I am no longer the last Sightwitch Sister. I have no idea what that means for me.
I love you, Kullen. My Captain. My Paladin. Ever since that day in the mountain when I chose to ignore the Rule of the Accidental Guest and to help you instead, our Threads have been bound. And they will remain bound for as long as I live, as long as I breathe. I am not giving up on you. I’ll come back when I can.
Good-bye.
—Ryber
