Page 156 of Sword & Shadow
“Convince her not to.”
“Oh, I see. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Hewitt lifted his eyes to the Heavens. “What do you want me to say, Deckard? If she doesn’t figure it out on her own, then you’ll have to convince her. Unless you can find a way for me to talk to her, which doesn’t seem likely.”
Deckard ran a hand over his jaw. “Perhaps not,” he said hesitantly. “But...”
“But . . . ?”
As the idea sparked in his head, Deckard saw no harm in pursuing it. “Well, as of yet, I’m not a thoroughly trained Mage,” he said. “So I would think that certain aspects of my powers are underdeveloped. Such as the ability to summon a ghost.”
Hewitt lifted his brow, urging him to continue.
“If I had a better connection to Night magic,” Deckard said, “then I would imagine I could summon you more fully. Perhaps enough for someone else to see you.”
“I like that idea.”
“I thought you might.”
An expectant gleam lit Hewitt’s gray stare. “That’sour goal. You work to get stronger and find a way to make me visible to Evylin. If I can talk to her, I can help her.”
Deckard stared back toward the camp. He was running out of time. “Auden won’t help me with that,” he said. “He’s afraid of Night magic.”
“So get stronger with your other magic,” Hewitt suggested. “Surely, that will help.”
“Probably.”
Hewitt nodded in anticipation. “This is good, Deckard. For the next fortnight, train. Train hard. And when you see Evylinagain, let me talk with her. Once she feels how happy she is to be back with you, she won’t ever let you go again.”
Though it sounded too good to be true, Deckard grasped onto the hope the plan offered with all he was worth. He had to believe that Hewitt was right.
A fortnight.
Deckard would train, he would practice, and he would hope.
He had two weeks to prepare. Two weeks to save his marriage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
21ST OF CHRONOS, 1574
The days passed with the same trudging pace. Each morning, they shared a quick, meager breakfast before moving on through the moors. Not much could make riding from dusk ’til dawn, setting up camp, training, sleeping, and starting all over again exciting; however, Evylin found herself grateful for the companionship of her friends.
Together, Evylin, Ethenn, Ilain, and Thom had become an efficient, comfortable team. They filled the hours with easy chatter and friendly banter. Then, at the day’s end, Thom and Ilain cared for the camp and the horses while Evylin and Ethenn trained.
As the days progressed, the teaching reversed, and Ethenn began showing Evylin the finer points of hunting, tracking, and using a bow. They brought Thom in on their practice, too, keeping his skills sharp, though he regularly lamented they were impossible to beat. All the while, Ilain watched or sketched from a distance, uninterested in learning swordplay.
The rain was less constant, though the scenery grew less varied as well. As the land began to rise and fall with hills, it lost even the vestige of trees. However, the flowering shrubbery more than made up for the absence of wooden areas. Thesurprisingly tranquil beauty of the moors enchanted Evylin. Ilain’s depiction of its grayness and majesty was quite apt, and Evylin determined that the setting belonged in a novel.
Despite the manifold joys of their travels, it did little to redeem the nights.
As the sun descended, the men took their turn on watch. While the women had several hours to sleep before the second and final shift, Evylin was restless. She’d hoped that a week’s passage would help her forget the warmth and comfort of Deckard at her side.Surely,she thought,I won’t need his presence to sleep.But her hopes were proving futile.
Though the weather had tempered during the day, the nights brought cold winds sweeping across the moor. Evylin burrowed deeply beneath her cloak, fighting for the barest morsel of warmth. She’d refused to sleep with the vignette a second night, but she often pictured it, imagining herself stretched out on the blanket in the sunshine of Wayford, reading with Deckard at her side. Though she’d told herself to stop, as such imaginations would do her more harm than good, it was her one means of finally drifting to sleep after hours of shivering and holding back tears in the isolation of night.
Now, Evylin sat in the gloom of the new morning, mind still fuzzy from her fitful rest. A lazy fog drifted across the moors, leaving dew in its wake. Ilain huddled closely at her side, their cloaks clutched around them to keep the damp chill from their bodies.
“How much farther is it to... Well, wherever it is we’re going?” Evylin whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure Ilain could hear her.
