Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 113 of 619

They rode east through open country all morning. By midday the pine gave way to a stand of tall oaks in full autumn color, red and gold and rust burning against a cold blue sky. A river cut the ground beneath them. A plank bridge crossed it, wide enough for two horses. Ajax reined in at the near post. He pulled the scrying ring from the pouch at his belt and held it flat on his palm. Chalam rode up beside him. "Deep water?" Ajax asked. Chalam looked over the rail. "Deepest for a day's ride. Bed's stone. Nothing walks it." "Good." Grayson pulled alongside. He saw the ring in Ajax's hand and his jaw set. "You said you'd hold it." "I said we wouldn't wear it." Ajax closed his fist around the ring. "Holding it means he can still find it if the working on our rings breaks. One cracked stone and he speaks to us through the iron in Tucker's saddle nails." "Then break it." "Chalam says it can't be broken clean. Only sunk deep enough that no one fishes it up." Grayson looked at the river, then at Ajax. "You told me first this time." "I'm telling you now." Grayson gave a short nod. "Do it." Ajax walked his horse to the middle of the bridge. The others held at the near bank. He swung down and stepped to the rail. Below him the water ran dark and fast, folding over itself where the current dropped into a hole between two stones. He opened his hand. The ring sat there, plain iron with a spiral cut into the band. He thought of the man it was made to reach. He thought of his father, who had cut the first seal without ever knowing the shape of what came after. He threw it hard, straight down. The ring hit the black water and was gone. No splash worth naming. No hum. Nothing came back up. Ajax stood a moment at the rail. Then he mounted and rode across. The others followed in single file, hoofbeats hollow on the planks. When the last horse cleared the far post, Chalam looked back once and shook his head. "He'll feel it stop," Chalam said. "He won't feel where." "Then he guesses." Beyond the bridge the ground climbed through more of the oaks. Their canopies met overhead in a burning ceiling. Ajax rode point until the trees thinned and the smell of salt came in on the wind. He pulled up on a rise. Ahead the ground fell away to gray water. The coastal shelf lay below them, walls still standing, stream still running to the sea. A thin line of smoke rose from the base of the cliff wall. Grayson drew up beside him. "That's not our fire." "No," Ajax said. "It isn't." He touched the folded cloth at his belt and started his horse down the slope.