‘Your company would be most welcome, sir. I am indebted to you.’
‘I’ll not talk of debt with a man who risks his life to save my Maev.’
‘She has spoken to me of you, Master Grymauch.’
‘I expect it was nothing good. A hard woman is Maev.’
‘Oh, it was good, sir. But she was concerned that you would . . . how shall I phrase it?’
‘Do something foolish?’ offered Jaim.
‘Indeed so, sir.’
‘Let us talk while we eat,’ said Jaim Grymauch.
Kaelin Ring sat by the edge of a black river. The sky was gloomy, and though there was light enough to see the barren landscape there was no sign of moon or stars. The trees by the river’s edge were all dead, not a leaf to be seen. He watched as a slender boat was launched into the water on the far side of the river. A hooded ferryman stood at the stern, a long pole in his hands.
Kaelin felt burdened by weariness, and he sat slumped against a grey rock, waiting as the Ferryman slowly poled the boat across the calm, iron surface. He felt a weight in his hand, and opened his fingers. A thick, round black coin appeared there, then faded away, before reappearing again. Each time he tried to close his hand around the coin it disappeared.
The boat reached the river’s edge and the Ferryman stood waiting. Kaelin pushed himself to his feet and approached the man. The Ferryman held out his hand.
‘Do not give him the coin,’ said the Wyrd. Kaelin turned slowly.
‘Why are you here?’
‘To bring you home, Ravenheart. This is not your time. Nor is this the place you should cross.’
‘I am very tired, Wyrd.’
‘I know. Come, let us talk awhile.’
Kaelin glanced back at the Ferryman.
‘He will wait,’ said the Wyrd swiftly. She walked back up the slope and stopped when she reached level ground. Here she sat and waited. Kaelin hardly had the strength to follow, but he stumbled on and finally slumped down alongside her. ‘Chara is waiting for you,’ she said.
‘Chara is lost to me, Wyrd. I thought I had saved her. But I was too late. They destroyed her spirit.’
‘No, they did not. Chara Jace is Rigante. She may be young, Ravenheart, but she has an old soul. It is strong and it will recover. Even now she sits at the bedside of the man she loves, nursing his wounds, praying that his fever will break and that he will not die.’
‘The man she loves?’
‘I am speaking of you, Kaelin. This is not the world you know. Your body lies in the great house, racked by fever.’
‘Where then is this place?’
‘The Black River. A place of lost souls, Kaelin. The brokenhearted come here, the lost, the despairing and the defeated. It is not for you. We must journey back to the land of the living.’
‘I have no strength, Wyrd.’
‘You have more strength than you know. In you runs the blood of Connavar. You are Rigante, Ravenheart.’
‘Leave me be, Wyrd. I am tired and the Ferryman is waiting.’
‘Maev Ring is imprisoned,’ said the Wyrd. ‘They plan to burn her as a witch.’
‘Aunt Maev? A witch? That is nonsense.’
‘Aye, it is. Jaim is there now. Soon they will bring her to the stake, and fifty guards will be there to see her burn.’
‘Jaim will not stand by, Wyrd.’
‘No, he will not. His heart is as big as Caer Druagh, and filled with the magic of the land. In every sense he is the Rigante. Big, and braw, and magnificent. You love him, do you not?’
‘Of course I do. He means the world to me.’
‘And to me, Ravenheart, for in Jaim we see all that is wondrous in the Rigante spirit.’
‘I must get to him. I must help him.’
‘You cannot. Your body is weak.’
‘There must be something I can do, Wyrd. Tell me. Anything!’
‘You can open your heart, Kaelin, and you can hold Jaim within it. You can live your life as he would have you live it, unfettered by hatred, free to love. Not an easy path.’