Marinus followed him, and by communing, came to know the truth of the world, as Xidius said.”
Osmun was speechless.
“When you get to be my age,” Nestor said, “you spend much of your time reading. And thinking. And reading and thinking some more. It helps pass the time. Takes your mind off of your aching body.” He chuckled again.
For a moment, Osmun felt relief, until the realization set in that he was not being deceived, could not be deceived, and the fear that he felt during the trial returned, reinvigorated and more certain than before.
Chapter 5
Lying on his back, Zayd saw the first hints of daylight through half-open eyes. It gave shape to the trees and an end to the night in which he ran, unconstrained and unconcerned. The trees looked familiar. It took him a moment to realize that this was the place he ran to when he was young: a black oak, centuries old, perched next to the top of a small waterfall. The branches of the tree stretched up and out, waiting for Zayd to perch upon them as if they were showing him the surrounding landscape, holding him in their palm. He ran for an hour or more to get there. The tree, the land, the offered view all belonged to him.
It was a shock, then, when he clambered up the tree one day, to be knocked down from the very first branch. Winded and confused, he heard laughing and thought it was the tree.
Until he saw her.
She was straddling the arm of the tree and covering her mouth, hardly able to control her laughter.
“I thought I saw you at the well as I left,” Zayd said as he got to his feet.
“You did,” Symm replied.
“Have you learned to fly, then?”
She nodded. “Just yesterday. A bird told me.” She laughed.
“How did you really beat me here? Tell me.” Zayd made his way to the branch she was on and started to climb again, but she placed her foot squarely on his chest.
“Being the fastest isn’t everything.”
“Of course it is,” Zayd said. They stared at each other, stern-faced and still, until Zayd cracked a grin. “So now you’re faster and you can stare me down.”
Symm smiled and nodded. “Remember it.” She lowered her foot so he could climb up. He sat beside her, and for a while she did not look at him, instead looking out over the waterfall and the river below, a sight that Zayd had enjoyed many times alone.
Now, though, it was especially beautiful.
He was about to ask her again how she had beaten him to the tree, but she rested her head on his shoulder just as he opened his mouth, so he said nothing.
He was silent for a long time.
There was a feeling of sadness, as there always was, as he woke fully and left the memory behind. Zayd was visited by memories of that kind too frequently, and as he neared the end of his service in the army, the sadness he felt began to grow in its intensity like a flame struggling for air. If only he could stay in that blissful state of half-sleep, he could pretend he was already home.
Perhaps that particular dream had been brought on by the night march. Leading the column on foot, there were moments when he could not hear anything but his own breath. It was in those moments he forgot the hundreds behind him.
They had gone six miles before they found a suitable place to make camp – a clearing that one of Tascell’s men had found. Talazz dragged several fallen trees to barricade the road on either side of the camp right before he fell asleep and began snoring loudly.
“What is this? ” The voice startled Zayd as he stood up.
It was Stern.
The knight wore only the clothes he had slept in, and while the ornate armour he wore normally concealed his build, he was almost more daunting now, his chest and arms taught, threatening to explode into violence. He pointed straight at the ground where Zayd had drawn his sigil in the dirt.
“Did you hear me? What is it?” Stern shouted. Only then did Zayd hear the voices, distressed and angered,
Osmun was speechless.
“When you get to be my age,” Nestor said, “you spend much of your time reading. And thinking. And reading and thinking some more. It helps pass the time. Takes your mind off of your aching body.” He chuckled again.
For a moment, Osmun felt relief, until the realization set in that he was not being deceived, could not be deceived, and the fear that he felt during the trial returned, reinvigorated and more certain than before.
Chapter 5
Lying on his back, Zayd saw the first hints of daylight through half-open eyes. It gave shape to the trees and an end to the night in which he ran, unconstrained and unconcerned. The trees looked familiar. It took him a moment to realize that this was the place he ran to when he was young: a black oak, centuries old, perched next to the top of a small waterfall. The branches of the tree stretched up and out, waiting for Zayd to perch upon them as if they were showing him the surrounding landscape, holding him in their palm. He ran for an hour or more to get there. The tree, the land, the offered view all belonged to him.
It was a shock, then, when he clambered up the tree one day, to be knocked down from the very first branch. Winded and confused, he heard laughing and thought it was the tree.
Until he saw her.
She was straddling the arm of the tree and covering her mouth, hardly able to control her laughter.
“I thought I saw you at the well as I left,” Zayd said as he got to his feet.
“You did,” Symm replied.
“Have you learned to fly, then?”
She nodded. “Just yesterday. A bird told me.” She laughed.
“How did you really beat me here? Tell me.” Zayd made his way to the branch she was on and started to climb again, but she placed her foot squarely on his chest.
“Being the fastest isn’t everything.”
“Of course it is,” Zayd said. They stared at each other, stern-faced and still, until Zayd cracked a grin. “So now you’re faster and you can stare me down.”
Symm smiled and nodded. “Remember it.” She lowered her foot so he could climb up. He sat beside her, and for a while she did not look at him, instead looking out over the waterfall and the river below, a sight that Zayd had enjoyed many times alone.
Now, though, it was especially beautiful.
He was about to ask her again how she had beaten him to the tree, but she rested her head on his shoulder just as he opened his mouth, so he said nothing.
He was silent for a long time.
There was a feeling of sadness, as there always was, as he woke fully and left the memory behind. Zayd was visited by memories of that kind too frequently, and as he neared the end of his service in the army, the sadness he felt began to grow in its intensity like a flame struggling for air. If only he could stay in that blissful state of half-sleep, he could pretend he was already home.
Perhaps that particular dream had been brought on by the night march. Leading the column on foot, there were moments when he could not hear anything but his own breath. It was in those moments he forgot the hundreds behind him.
They had gone six miles before they found a suitable place to make camp – a clearing that one of Tascell’s men had found. Talazz dragged several fallen trees to barricade the road on either side of the camp right before he fell asleep and began snoring loudly.
“What is this? ” The voice startled Zayd as he stood up.
It was Stern.
The knight wore only the clothes he had slept in, and while the ornate armour he wore normally concealed his build, he was almost more daunting now, his chest and arms taught, threatening to explode into violence. He pointed straight at the ground where Zayd had drawn his sigil in the dirt.
“Did you hear me? What is it?” Stern shouted. Only then did Zayd hear the voices, distressed and angered,
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