Roran Vottier's Arc

Chapter 9 of 10

The wraith was gone, but the black doorway still bled rot into the earth. Kaia sank against the center stone. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her breath came shallow. She had spent everything on the binding words. Roran caught her before she fell. She weighed almost nothing in his arms. The sword's fire had faded to a warm glow. The wolf pressed close, watching the trees to the east. "Kaia," Roran said. "Stay with me." She forced her eyes open. "The blight in the ground. It grows. You have to purge it." "Tell me how." Her lips moved, but no words came. Her head dropped against his chest. Roran understood then. The knowledge lived only in her, and she could not give it while she was this weak. He could burn a patch of rot. He could not clear what soaked centuries deep. Not without her. He carried her from the stone circle. The wolf led him through the dark woods to his home. Vines climbed the cottage walls. He shouldered the door open and laid Kaia on the small bed by the hearth. He built up the fire and set the golden sword against the wall, where it glowed like a low ember. Through the night he watched her. He held water to her lips when she stirred. Twice she spoke ritual fragments in her sleep, words in an old tongue. He could not use them. He could only wait. The wolf lay by the door, ears up, guarding the threshold. By dawn her color returned. Her breathing steadied. When she woke, she looked at the beams above her and knew the roof. "You brought me here," she said. "You needed rest. I couldn't do the rest without you." Roran leaned forward. "The blight is spreading. Can you clear it?" Kaia sat up slowly. She pressed a hand to her head, then nodded. "Not from here. And not with words alone. The blight lives in the soil the doorway feeds. To purge it, we go to the source." She looked at the sword against the wall. "Its fire is nearly spent. It has to be relit before we enter the barrow." "The shrine," Roran said. "The old druid shrine your ancestors built." "Yes. The fire pit there was dead before. But its flame comes from the same eternal fire we used. If we relight the blade at the shrine and carry it into the barrow, I can speak the cleansing words at the doorway itself." She swung her legs off the bed and stood, one hand on the wall. "I have the strength for the words now. Barely. It won't last long." Roran took up the sword. Its glow answered his grip. Kaia was on her feet, weak but awake, the knowledge in her ready to spend at last. The wolf rose and turned east. "Then we don't waste it," Roran said. He opened the door to the gray morning. The barrow waited beyond the trees, still pouring rot.