Page 22 of Sword & Shadow
Deckard breathed out a humorless laugh. “Why am I not surprised? What’s your theory then? Why am I better in the Keeps?”
Knowing he was asking himself these questions, Deckard wondered why he didn’t believe Rafferty. What was within him that held such a cynical perspective on something reasonably put forth?
“I told you weeks ago,” Hewitt grumbled. “You think too much. When you’re in the Keeps, you act on instinct. It makes you better.”
“And you think it’s the same for Ethenn?”
“The boy was trained as a hunter since infancy,” Hewitt said. “He’s been fighting in the streets since he was thirteen. Magic doesn’t play a role in it. His skills have been honed over two decades, and the Keeps give him a place to show it off.”
This was why Deckard talked to the vision. Whether it was insanity or not, his subconscious managed to provide him with clarity of thought to process his challenges, most of which concerned Evylin. And who better to talk to about his wife than the one man she trusted above all else—even if he was actually talking to himself at the end of the day?
“I think something’s wrong with Evylin,” Deckard heard himself mutter.
Hewitt’s ghost hovered menacingly in his peripheral vision. “Why?”
“Ever since we entered Wauld, she’s been different,” he said. “She’s laughing and acting happy. She’s even touching me as though she hasn’t flinched away every time I’ve stepped near her the past twelve days.”
Tugging on his scraggly beard, Hewitt let out a thoughtful hum.
“I considered that it might be the change of scenery,” Deckard continued, knowing his subconscious would interject when it came up with a better idea. “Perhaps a place so new as Wauld is enough of a distraction. Or maybe the fight in the Keep gave her some life back.”
Hewitt let out a grunt.
Deckard looked up at him. “You don’t think that’s it, do you?”
“It took her an entire month to smile again after Ryen died,” the ghost said. “She wouldn’t speak to anyone but me; shewouldn’t leave the house without me at her side. Loss destroyed the girl she was. And even the woman she’s become has never fully recovered from that.”
Nodding, Deckard felt the truth in his gut. “She’s not over you,” he muttered to himself. “Whatever this is, it’s a fluke. She isn’t better. She’s momentarily altered by her distraction.”
“A fight isn’t enough to distract Evylin.”
Deckard stared up at Hewitt, confused. “Then what is?”
A rustle in the forest drew Deckard’s attention back to the task at hand. His vision vanished, returning to the void of his insanity.
Hand on the hilt of his sword, Deckard stood. He scanned the trees, watching and listening. The steady, rapid gait informed him that Evylin and Rafferty were returning, but he remained ready until he caught a visual of their approaching forms.
Assured they weren’t being chased nor was their camp under attack, Deckard resumed his seat on the mossy log. Rafferty staggered over, dropping unceremoniously at Deckard’s feet, while Evylin easily reined in her jog to pace before them. Catching her breath, she smirked at Rafferty’s melodramatic, languished display.
“How did it go?” Deckard asked.
“Invigoratingly,” Evylin replied, her braid wet from the constant drizzle. “I don’t think Raff enjoyed it much, though.”
Deckard looked down at the weasel, his ghostly pale face coursing with sweat and rain. “Did she give you any magical assistance?” he asked.
Rafferty snarled. “If she did, it wasn’t good enough.”
Sitting at Deckard’s side, Evylin tugged the leather tie free from her hair. She unfurled the dark brown plait, squeezing out the excess moisture. “I don’t think it worked,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if that’s due to a failure on my part or a failure of the theory itself.”
After discussing with his subconscious, Deckard concluded internally that it was probably the latter. Instead of offering that thought, however, he said, “Then I suppose Rafferty will have to run another mile to prove it.”
CHAPTER SIX
34TH OF GALATAE, 1574
The massive, ashen-gray walls bordering the Reach into Wauld stretched for miles. The cluster of forest trees had been cut back, creating a few hundred feet of distance, making it impossible for anyone to climb the giant trees and leap onto the stone parapets. Guards patrolled the top and the roadside. A garrison protruded near the gate.
In the heavily clouded midday, rain pummeled the stone wall and the dozens of guards and travelers lining the narrow, muddy road. Even in the dreary conditions, Evylin couldn’t quite bring herself to worry about those guards or the weapons at their sides. A lightness had settled into her, a knowing that everything would turn out for the best. Despite the strangeness of such a carefree attitude after her weeks of sorrow, she was just so glad to feel like herself again that she didn’t bother to questionwhyshe was experiencing this sensation.
