The Pillars of Creation (Sword of Truth 7)

At last she held it in her open palm, contemplating the ornate letter “R.” Jennsen could not imagine what terrible thoughts—and memories—must be going through her mother’s mind as she silently considered the emblem representing the House of Rahl.

“Dear spirits,” her mother whispered again to herself.

Jennsen didn’t say anything. She entirely understood. It was an ugly evil thing.

“Mother,” Jennsen whispered when her mother had looked at the handle for an eternity, “it’s almost dark. May I go get Sebastian and take him back to the cave?”

Her mother slid the blade home into its sheath, looking to put a panorama of painful memories away with it.

“Yes, I suppose you had better go get him. Take him to the cave. Make a fire for him. I’ll cook some fish and bring some herbs along to help him sleep with his fever. Wait there with him until I come out. Keep your eye on him. We will eat with him, out there. I don’t want him in the house.”

Jennsen nodded. She touched her mother’s arm, halting her before she could go into the house. Jennsen had one more thing to tell her mother. She dearly wished she didn’t have to. She didn’t want to bring her mother such a worry, but she had to.

“Mother,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “we are going to need to go from this place.”

Her mother looked startled.

“I found something on the D’Haran soldier.”

Jennsen pulled the piece of paper from her pocket, unfolded it, and held it out in her open palm.

Her mother’s gaze took in the two words on the paper.

“Dear spirits…” was all she said, was all she was able to say.

She turned and looked at the house, taking it all in, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. Jennsen knew that her mother had come to think of it as home, too.

“Dear spirits,” her mother whispered to herself again, at a loss for anything more.

Jennsen thought the weight of it might overcome her, and her mother might break down in helpless tears. That was what Jennsen wanted to do. Neither did.

Her mother wiped a finger under each eye as she looked back at Jennsen. And then she did cry—one brief inhalation of a gasping sob of hopelessness. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

It broke Jennsen’s heart to see her mother in such anguish. Everything that Jennsen had missed in life, her mother had missed twice over. Once for herself, and once for her daughter. On top of it, her mother had to be strong.

“We’ll leave at first light,” her mother said in simple pronouncement. “Traveling at night, and in the rain, will serve us ill. We’ll have to find a new place to hide. He’s getting too close to this one.”

Jennsen’s own eyes overflowed with tears and her voice came only with great difficulty. “I’m so sorry, Mama, that I’m such trouble.” Her tears flooded forth in a painful torrent. She crushed the piece of paper as her hands fisted. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I wish you could be free of me.”

Her mother caught her up in her arms then, cradling Jennsen’s head to a shoulder as she wept. “No, no, baby. Don’t ever say that. You’re my light, my life. This trouble is caused by others. Don’t you ever wear a cloak of guilt because they are evil. You’re my wonderful life. I would give everything else up a thousand times over for you and then once again and be joyous to do so.”

Jennsen was glad that she would never have any children, for she knew she didn’t have her mother’s strength. She held on for dear life to the only person in the world who was a comfort to her.

But then she pushed away from her mother’s embrace. “Mama, Sebastian is from far away. He told me. He said that he’s from beyond D’Hara. There are other places—other lands. He knows of them. Isn’t that wonderful? There is a place that isn’t D’Hara.”

“But those places are beyond barriers and boundaries that can’t be crossed.”

“Then how can he be here? It must be so, otherwise he could not have traveled here.”

“And Sebastian is from one of these other lands?”

“To the south, he said.”

“The south? I don’t see how it could be possible. Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Yes.” Jennsen added a firm nod of confirmation. “He said the south. He only mentioned it casually. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but what if it is? Mother, maybe he could guide us there. Maybe, if we asked, he would guide us out of this nightmare land.”

As levelheaded as her mother was, Jennsen could see that she was considering this wild idea. It wasn’t crazy—her mother was thinking it over, so it couldn’t be crazy. Jennsen was suddenly filled with a sense of hope that maybe she had come up with something that would save them.

“Why would he do this for us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if he would consider it, or what he would want in return. I didn’t ask him. I didn’t dare even to mention it until I talked to you, first. That’s part of why I wanted him to stay here—so you could question him. I feared to lose this chance to discover if it really is possible.”

Her mother looked around again at the house. It was tiny, only one room, and it was nothing fancy, built from logs and wood they had shaped themselves, but it was warm and snug and dry. It was frightening to contemplate striking out in the dead of winter. The alternative of being caught, though, was far worse.

Jennsen knew what would happen if they were caught. Death would not come swiftly. If they were caught, death would come only after endless torture.

At last, her mother gathered herself and spoke. “That’s good thinking, Jenn. I don’t know if anything can come of such an idea, but we’ll talk to Sebastian and see. One thing is for sure. We have to leave. We dare not delay until spring—not if they’re this close. We’ll leave at dawn.”

“Mother, where will we go, this time, if Sebastian won’t lead us away from D’Hara?”

Her mother smiled. “Baby, the world is a big place. We are only two small people. We will simply vanish again. I know it’s hard, but we’re together. It will be fine. We’ll see some new sights, now won’t we? Some more of the world.

“Now, go get Sebastian and take him to the cave. I’ll get started on dinner. We’ll all need to have a good meal.”

Jennsen quickly kissed her mother’s cheek before racing down the trail. The rain was starting, and it was so gloomy among the trees that she could hardly see. The trees were all huge D’Haran soldiers to her, broad, powerful, grim. She knew she would have nightmares after seeing a real D’Haran soldier up close.

Sebastian was still sitting on the rock, waiting. He stood as she rushed up to him.

“My mother said it was all right for you to sleep in the cave with the animals. She’s started on cooking up the fish for us. She wants to meet you.”

He looked too tired to be happy, but he managed to show her a small smile. Jennsen seized his wrist and urged him to follow her. He was already shivering with the wet. His arm was warm, though. Fever was like that, she knew. You shivered even though you were burning up. But with some food and herbs and a good night’s rest, she was sure he would soon be well.

What she wasn’t sure of was if he would help them.

Chapter 5

Betty, their brown goat, watched attentively from her pen, occasionally voicing her displeasure at sharing her home, as Jennsen quickly collected straw to the side for the stranger in Betty’s sanctuary. Bleating her distress, Betty finally quieted when Jennsen affectionately scratched the nervous goat’s ears, patted the wiry hair covering her round middle, and then gave her half a carrot from the stash up on a high ledge. Betty’s short upright tail wagged furiously.

Sebastian shed his cloak and pack, but kept on the belt with his new weapons. He unstrapped his bedroll from under his pack and spread it out over the mat of straw. Despite Jennsen’s urging, he wouldn’t lie down and rest while she knelt near the cave’s entrance and prepared the fire pit.

As he helped her stack dry kindling, she c

ould see by the dim light coming from the window of the house on the other side of the clearing that sweat beaded his face. He repeatedly scraped his knife down the length of a branch, swiftly building a clump of fluffy fibers. He struck a steel to flint several times, sending sparks through the darkness into the tinder he’d made. He cupped the fluff in his hands and with gentle puffs of breath nursed the slow flames until they strengthened, then placed the burning tinder beneath the kindling, where the flames quickly grew and popped to life among the dry twigs. The branches released a pleasing fragrance of balsam as they caught flame.

Jennsen had been planning on running to the house, not far off, to get some hot coals to start the fire, but he had it going before she could even suggest it. By the way he trembled, she imagined he was impatient for heat, even though he was burning with fever. She could smell the aroma of the frying fish coming from the house, and when the wind among the pine boughs died from time to time, she could hear the sizzle.