Champion Kevintor Neverloss's Arc

Chapter 40 of 42

Kevintor walked the road with the dagger in his belt and the leather book against his ribs. His forearm throbbed under the wrapped cloth. The sun came up over the ridge and put him in plain sight. He had no art in his body, no sword, no horse, and a price on his head that any farmer with a sickle could try to collect. Astella's walls were a full day's walk. He would not survive a day on this road if anyone who wanted him dead had eyes on it. A mile down he found where they had camped. An oak stood off the shoulder with knives driven into its trunk and branches at every height. Some were rusted. Some were fresh. The killers had thrown blades into it while they waited for him to pass. He counted them as he worked them free. Eleven came out clean. He cut a strip from his sleeve and bundled them at his hip. He was not weaponless anymore. He opened the leather book under the tree. The cover was plain, the corners worn soft by a thumb. Inside, ruled pages held a careful column of names with dates beside them. Three above his were struck through. One was circled in red ink, the same name carved on the altar's panel. Beneath the names, in a different hand, were payment sums and a route. The route ran south from the altar along the road he was on. Two stops were marked. The second stop was a shrine. He reached it by midday. It stood at a bend in the road where the trees thinned, a squat stone arch with a ring of dull light at its crown and a sunken pool in its base. He had heard of these in the capital and never used one. The pool was cold and empty. He stepped onto the worn stair and put his hand on the ring. Nothing answered. He pressed the dagger's yellow stone against the rune at the arch's center. The ring warmed. The pool filled with pale light. Two riders came around the bend at a trot. They saw him on the stair and kicked their horses. Kevintor drew a knife from his hip and threw it. It took the lead rider in the throat. The second rider drew a bow. Kevintor stepped into the pool. The light closed over him before the arrow reached the stone. He came out on his knees on cut grass inside a wall he knew. The Golden Training House stood ahead with its dark roof and open doors. Lady Astella crossed the stones toward him with a pipe in her hand and a blade under her sash. She looked at his wrapped arm, the dagger, the book. "You ran." "I rode the shrine." She took the book from his hand and opened it. "Inside," she said. "Now."