gorge, from the broken tree, and would have run all the way back to the castle, if it had not been for Knight Captain Keeling’s hand clamping down on his shoulder.
“We’re not going down there, are we?” Farin’s voice was not as steady as he would have liked. Only a madman would venture into a Scar.
“Haven’t you heard the saying, Sergeant?” Keeling asked. The Knight Captain’s voice was as cool as iron. “Never follow a berserker. We have another mission.”
“What might that be, sir?”
“The witch you found—she’s enchanted the Nuthaanian. He is not right in his head.”
Were berserkers ever right in the head? Farin kept his mouth shut. As if to emphasize his thought, the earth began to quake and a section of the chasm caved in by the mountain’s base. The two men retreated, stumbling away from the edge. The earth did not relent. And thunder rumbled in their ears. It came from the pit, not the clear sky.
“But what about the taint?” Farin yelled over the rumbling.
“If the berserker stops it, then all the better.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Keeling looked to Farin. “We have the other Wise One.”
Farin looked away, towards the Scar. The Knight Captain was not suggesting that the kindly healer go down into the chasm—he was suggesting that they use her to leave the valley. As much as leaving appealed to Farin, he would not abandon his men.
“And what if he does?” he asked in a lull of shaking.
“We are to make sure that he does not return to the castle. Shoot on sight, Sergeant, and make good on your blunder. You should have never brought the witch into our midst.”
Farin clenched his jaw, and nodded. And then they spoke no more, the earth roared, and both men were jarred from their feet. Farin fell onto the waxy earth and nearly lost his stomach as the Swarm responded to the touch of his unwarded skin. He scrambled upright as if he had been burnt, and staggered to a grouping of rocks that sat like an island in a sea of bleakness.
A slab cracked from the mountain and a great avalanche of ice and rock tumbled into the gorge. Farin could only watch, praying to the Guardians that the ground did not open up under his feet and swallow him whole. He feared the worst, when the surrounding earth ruptured like a bloated corpse, exposing the innards to daylight. Farin lost his stomach to the stench. But it did not last long, the Spawn shriveled and dried beneath the sun.
When silence settled on the valley, Farin opened his eyes. He found himself clinging to a boulder like a cat on a log in the middle of a river. Ice and earth swirled in the air. He coughed, squinting through the hazy afternoon.
The ground was no longer writhing. It was still dead, but not like before. It looked more like dry earth in a water starved land. Farin let out a slow, controlled breath, relieved that he was still able to breathe, but more so, that they would not have to kill the Nuthaanian. Surely, the giant had been buried under the mountain?
Keeling and Farin waited nearly an hour for the ground to stop its restless shuddering. When it finally stilled for a good long while, Knight Captain Keeling stepped from the rocks and moved cautiously towards the Scar. Reluctantly, Farin followed, wondering if anyone had ever advised against following a Knight Captain of the Blessed Order.
The chasm was still black, but its shape had changed. Its edges were wider than before. As Keeling scanned its innards, Farin walked back to where this nightmare had begun—to the now toppled pine. Its roots had been ripped from the ground, and he could just make out the fallen tree’s outline, wedged down in the gorge, spanning its width. It looked as though a giant had taken a bite out of the chasm’s edge; only a sink hole remained where the majestic pine had once stood.
The earth was churned and the Spawn had already turned to ash beneath the sun. Color caught the sergeant’s eye. A sliver of green in the center of the
“We’re not going down there, are we?” Farin’s voice was not as steady as he would have liked. Only a madman would venture into a Scar.
“Haven’t you heard the saying, Sergeant?” Keeling asked. The Knight Captain’s voice was as cool as iron. “Never follow a berserker. We have another mission.”
“What might that be, sir?”
“The witch you found—she’s enchanted the Nuthaanian. He is not right in his head.”
Were berserkers ever right in the head? Farin kept his mouth shut. As if to emphasize his thought, the earth began to quake and a section of the chasm caved in by the mountain’s base. The two men retreated, stumbling away from the edge. The earth did not relent. And thunder rumbled in their ears. It came from the pit, not the clear sky.
“But what about the taint?” Farin yelled over the rumbling.
“If the berserker stops it, then all the better.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Keeling looked to Farin. “We have the other Wise One.”
Farin looked away, towards the Scar. The Knight Captain was not suggesting that the kindly healer go down into the chasm—he was suggesting that they use her to leave the valley. As much as leaving appealed to Farin, he would not abandon his men.
“And what if he does?” he asked in a lull of shaking.
“We are to make sure that he does not return to the castle. Shoot on sight, Sergeant, and make good on your blunder. You should have never brought the witch into our midst.”
Farin clenched his jaw, and nodded. And then they spoke no more, the earth roared, and both men were jarred from their feet. Farin fell onto the waxy earth and nearly lost his stomach as the Swarm responded to the touch of his unwarded skin. He scrambled upright as if he had been burnt, and staggered to a grouping of rocks that sat like an island in a sea of bleakness.
A slab cracked from the mountain and a great avalanche of ice and rock tumbled into the gorge. Farin could only watch, praying to the Guardians that the ground did not open up under his feet and swallow him whole. He feared the worst, when the surrounding earth ruptured like a bloated corpse, exposing the innards to daylight. Farin lost his stomach to the stench. But it did not last long, the Spawn shriveled and dried beneath the sun.
When silence settled on the valley, Farin opened his eyes. He found himself clinging to a boulder like a cat on a log in the middle of a river. Ice and earth swirled in the air. He coughed, squinting through the hazy afternoon.
The ground was no longer writhing. It was still dead, but not like before. It looked more like dry earth in a water starved land. Farin let out a slow, controlled breath, relieved that he was still able to breathe, but more so, that they would not have to kill the Nuthaanian. Surely, the giant had been buried under the mountain?
Keeling and Farin waited nearly an hour for the ground to stop its restless shuddering. When it finally stilled for a good long while, Knight Captain Keeling stepped from the rocks and moved cautiously towards the Scar. Reluctantly, Farin followed, wondering if anyone had ever advised against following a Knight Captain of the Blessed Order.
The chasm was still black, but its shape had changed. Its edges were wider than before. As Keeling scanned its innards, Farin walked back to where this nightmare had begun—to the now toppled pine. Its roots had been ripped from the ground, and he could just make out the fallen tree’s outline, wedged down in the gorge, spanning its width. It looked as though a giant had taken a bite out of the chasm’s edge; only a sink hole remained where the majestic pine had once stood.
The earth was churned and the Spawn had already turned to ash beneath the sun. Color caught the sergeant’s eye. A sliver of green in the center of the
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