The Gypsy Morph

She nodded. “I told you everything about what happened to me. Tell me about what’s happened to you. About what you’ve been doing that brought you here.”


He was surprised at how eager he was to do so. He started at the very beginning, with his meeting with Two Bears, and then carried forward to his last visit from the Lady. He skipped some of it, the things that she didn’t need to know, the details of his battles, of his private struggles. He kept it simple and straightforward, telling her of the Ghosts and the gypsy morph and what was going to happen. She listened without interrupting him, watching his face, the look so intense he could feel its heat.

When he was finished, she gave him a smile. “If you weren’t standing here, if someone else told me this story, I would think it was just a story and nothing more.”

He smiled back. “I would think the same. If I hadn’t lived it.”

“Do you know where we’re supposed to go, even if Kirisin isn’t sure? Do you know where we will find this boy and all the other children? Angel’s children?”

He thought about it a moment. He didn’t know exactly, but somehow he thought he could find it anyway. Maybe Trim would know the way. But Trim had disappeared. There hadn’t been a sign of him since Logan had first encountered Simralin.

“I can get us to where we need to go. Then it’s up to the boy Hawk.”

Ahead, cottages appeared through the trees. The sun had risen behind them, a hazy orb hanging low in the east, still screened by the forest, its light diffuse and silvery. The predawn silence had given way to a steady rise of birdsong. From somewhere not too far ahead, a dog barked and voices could be heard.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said. “Arissen Belloruus will need to hear what brought you to us. But he will be happy you’ve come.”

They passed through the trees and found a pathway leading to the cluster of houses. The scent of flowers filled the morning air. Logan breathed it in.

“I’m happy you’ve come, too,” Simralin said suddenly.

She said it in a bold, challenging way, as if speaking the words cemented something between them that she understood better than he did. He looked over at her, but she was already striding ahead of him.

“This way,” she called back.

He had an odd thought at that moment, one he hadn’t had since Michael’s death.

He would follow her anywhere.





TWELVE


I T WAS THREE HOURS AFTER SUNRISE, the sky a brilliant blue sweep through the tangle of the forest branches, the sun a bright orb hanging low on the eastern horizon, the day smelling of new life and fresh possibilities. Kirisin Belloruus stood on a rise east of the city, just at its edge and deep within the concealment of the forest. He carried the three blue Elfstones and the Loden, all tucked within his pockets, and he was dressed in the clothing he would wear when they made their escape into the mountains. A handful of Elven Hunters stood nearby, armed and ready to leave with him. Another handful of Elven Hunters, all Trackers, had spread out in a screening movement that would detect any enemy approach.

The King and more than a thousand of his Hunters were gathered at the west end of the city, forming a screen between the demon-led army and Arborlon. When the city and its people were encapsulated within the Loden, the Hunters and their King would shift their defenses to protect Kirisin. Retaliation would be quick once the demon leaders got over their initial shock. They might not realize right away that Culph and Tragen were dead and that Kirisin was acting not at their behest but on his own . . . though it wouldn’t take long for them to figure it out. No word had been received of his return, of his capture and subjugation, or of a time or place that the Loden would be used. When the Elves and their city disappeared, there would be an immediate response.

Kirisin knew that he’d better not be anywhere close when that happened. The plan was to make sure he wasn’t.

The boy looked up at the sky and then off into the distance. It was all so surreal that he was having trouble believing it. He still didn’t know for certain that he could use the Loden. He certainly didn’t know how. The Ellcrys had told him nothing, only left him with the impression that when the time came, he would know instinctively. He supposed this was possible. After all, hadn’t he known instinctively how to use the blue Elfstones? Well, after the first time, anyway. Would he need a first time with the Loden? How much time would he need? How much would he get?

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth in response to his uncertainty. Trust in yourself! He mouthed the words silently, took a deep, steadying breath, and opened his eyes again. He wished this waiting were over. He wished he were doing something. But he had been told to wait for the King to signal that all was in readiness, that the army was in place and able to protect him.

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