Stone of Tears

Liliana was standing right over him, her sword held high in both hands. By where she was looking, he knew she intended to cut off his legs. He froze at seeing her sword commence its descent.

What he was doing was not working. He had to do something else, or he was going to die.

Her blade was a blur in the moonlight. He released himself, gave sanction to his inner self, his gift. He would surrender to whatever was there, or he would die. It was his only chance. He found the calm center within, and did its bidding.

He saw the Sword of Truth thrusting upward. His knuckles were white with effort. The sword was a white glow in the gloomy light.

With all his force, he drove the hissing white blade into Liliana, under her ribs. When the tip severed her spine, coming out her back between her shoulder blades, she went limp. Only his sword and strength held her upright.

Her mouth dropped open in a gasp. Her sword fell, sticking in the ground to the side. Her wide, pale eyes stared down at him.

“I forgive you, Liliana,” Richard whispered.

Her arms twitched in an uncoordinated manner. Terror rilled her eyes. She tried to speak, but only blood frothed forth.

There was an earsplitting crack, like a lightning strike, but instead of a flash of light, a ripple of total darkness swept through the forest. Its touch made his heart skip a beat. When it lifted, the moonlight seemed dazzling, and Liliana was dead.

Richard knew—the Keeper had taken her.

Before, he had called the sword’s white magic knowing full well what it meant. This time, he had done as Nathan had told him, and let his instinct, his gift, call it forth. It had been a surprise to him, both the instant calling of the white magic, and the fact that he had not consciously done it.

Something within had known that that was what was needed to counter the Keeper’s hate that rilled Liliana. Richard was left stunned by what had happened. He stared down at Liliana as he withdrew his sword. He had confided in her. He had trusted her.

He realized that he was still where he had started—with the collar around his neck, and no ideas of how to get it off. Collar or no collar, he had to get through the barrier that kept him here. He decided that he would go get his things from the palace, and then he would find a way through the invisible wall.

As he wiped the sword clean on her clothes, he recalled how it had been in the center of the clearing, a good distance from him. He had somehow called it to him, along with the magic. The sword had flown through the air, and come into his hand.

He set the sword on the ground, and experimentally called its magic. The anger, the fury, filled him, as always. He held his hand out and willed the blade to come to him. It lay rock-solid on the ground. Try as he might, it would not so much as twitch.

Frustrated, he returned it to its scabbard. He pulled Liliana’s sword from the ground and broke the blade over his knee. When he threw it aside, he noticed something white nearby.

White bones gleaming in the moonlight were mostly all that remained of the desiccated corpse. Only the top half was there. He assumed animals must have gotten the rest, but then he found the pelvis and legs, some distance away. Tattered remains of a dress that matched the top half still surrounded the leg bones.

Richard knelt, inspecting the upper body. Animals had not touched it. There was not a single tooth mark on any bone. It remained now as it had fallen.

With a frown, he saw that the bones of the lower spine were shattered. He had never seen bones splintered in such a way. It was as if this woman had been blown in half, while alive.

He knelt silently, staring, wondering. Someone had killed this woman. Somehow, he knew: magic had killed this woman.

“Who did this to you?” he whispered down at the corpse.

Slowly, a skeletal arm rose toward him in the moonlight. The fingers uncurled. A thin chain dropped down, dangling from the bones of a finger.

Richard, his hair feeling as if it were trying to stand on end, carefully took the chain from the fingers. There was a single object on the chain. He held it up in the moonlight and saw it was a lumpy piece of gold, formed into the letter J.

“Jedidiah,” Richard whispered, not knowing what made him do so.

Chapter 66

As Richard approached, he noticed a commotion on the stone bridge. A crowd lined one edge, everyone looking down to the river. At the center, he eased his way through toward the low, walled railing. As he did, he saw Pasha at the crown, too, leaning out over the stone, looking down.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he came up behind her.

Pasha spun at the sound of his voice. She flinched when she saw him. “Richard! I thought…” She looked back over the railing, down to the river, and then back to him.

“You thought what?”

She threw her arms around his middle. “Oh, Richard! I thought you were dead! Thank the Creator!”