“If only you’d join us, everything would be all right.”
“Knowing me as you do, do you really think I could ever join you in serving this Weaver?” Her love actually managed a smile as she said this, though she still looked sad, and heartrendingly beautiful.
“You have to,” Fetnalla whispered. “It’s the only way.”
“No, it’s not. You and I have fought the conspiracy before and we can still fight it now. Renounce your Weaver and come back to me.”
“I can’t do that. He’ll kill me. And if he doesn’t, the Eandi will. I murdered Brall, Evanthya. I couldn’t leave the movement even if I wanted to. So long as the Eandi rule the Forelands, I have no future. Only the Weaver can save me now. But there’s room in his world for both of us, if only you’ll come with me.”
Evanthya shook her head. “No.”
“Don’t make me do this.”
“If you love your Weaver this much, you’ll have to prove it by killing me. Because I have no intention of letting you go any farther.”
Fetnalla felt panic well in her chest. In spite of all she knew of her beloved, she had continued to hope that Evanthya’s love for her would prove stronger than her loyalty to Aneira and her duke. “You know you can’t stop me,” she said. “Your magic runs deep, Evanthya, but I’m a shaper. If you force me to do this, you’ll die right here.”
That sad smile returned. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I will. The Weaver will kill me if I don’t. There’s no escaping him. I told you, he walks in my dreams. He can find me anywhere in the land, and he knows how to hurt me, how to punish me if I fail him.”
“He sounds like a fine man,” Evanthya said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “a worthy leader for this new world of which you dream.”
“I told you not to speak of him that way!”
“Yes, you did. But I don’t give a damn. You say that you won’t allow me to mock him. Well, I won’t allow you to join him.”
“And how do you intend to stop me? Will you raise a mist or summon a gale? Do you really believe that you can keep me from going north?”
“No. But I can slow you down.” She turned to Fetnalla’s horse and stared at her. An instant later Zetya reared, then bolted southward.
Language of beasts.
“Damn you!” Fetnalla said, running after her mount briefly. Realizing that she couldn’t catch the animal, she faced Evanthya again. “Call her back!”
“I won’t. And if you refuse to come back to Dantrielle with me, I’ll send her off to where you’ll never find her. You can walk to Galdasten.”
“Zetya!” Fetnalla called. The horse didn’t move. She whistled sharply, which nearly always brought the beast back to her. Still Zetya stood there, nibbling on grass and ignoring her.
“Call her back, Evanthya!”
“She’ll return eventually. The commands don’t work forever. But if you don’t want to lose her for good, you’re going to have to do as I say.”
“I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
“You’re supposed to kill me. If you really want to join the Weaver, you’ll do so now. As I say, your horse will come back to you after a time, and you can be on your way.”
“This isn’t a joke!” Fetnalla said, growing more desperate by the moment. “I will kill you if you force me. I have to. That’s what he wants.”
“Then do it.”
She felt tears on her face, and she wiped them away quickly. “Please, Evanthya. Just…” She took a breath, knowing how she would suffer for this when next she stood before the Weaver. “Just go. Leave me now and I won’t have to hurt you.”
“I thought he expected you to kill me.”
“He does.”
“But you can’t.”
“No. Now leave me.”
Evanthya smiled. “I knew it. You’re no traitor. I know how much Brall hurt you, with his mistrust and his accusations. But you’re still one of us. This Weaver can’t change that.”
“You’re wrong. I’m glad Brall is dead. I’ve pledged myself to the Weaver and to his movement. No matter what you say, or what you think you know about me, I’m not going back with you. Now leave-please-before it’s too late.”
“You have to come back with me.”
“I won’t.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” Evanthya turned toward Zetya, who was watching them now, still standing off amid the grasses.
“No!” Fetnalla shouted. And before she knew what she had done, the magic flew from her, hot and angry and wild. She heard the muffled crack of bone, saw Evanthya fall, crying out in pain, clutching at her shoulder.
“Demons and fire!” Fetnalla sobbed, rushing to Evanthya’s side. Her love writhed on the ground, gritting her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut. “Do you see what you made me do? I warned you!”
“Just finish it, damn you! He wants me dead, so go ahead and kill me.”
Fetnalla glared at her. So stubborn, even now. So be it. “No, I won’t kill you. I’ve done enough. Stay away from me, Evanthya. The next time I see you, I’ll have no choice.”
“Then you might as well do it now,” Evanthya said, her jaw clenched against the pain. “Because as soon as you ride, I’ll follow. You can no more escape me than you can your Weaver.”
Fetnalla stood, still staring down at her, still crying. “You’re a fool.” Reaching for her magic a second time, she shattered the bone in her love’s leg, wincing at the sound of cracking bone and at the scream she tore from Evanthya’s lips. “Try following me now.”
She whistled for Zetya again, and this time the horse trotted to her.
“You’re just going to leave me?” Evanthya asked in a ragged whisper.
“You’ve given me no choice.”
She started to swing herself onto her mount, but the horse reared again and danced away from her.
“Stop it, Evanthya!”
She reached for the reins, but Zetya evaded her again.
“Stop it!” she cried, whirling toward her love, tears flying from her cheeks. “Can’t you just let me go? Do you want me to have to kill you?”
“I won’t let you go to him. You’ve done enough damage.”
“Then I’ll have to end this now.”
“You have already. How long do you think I can survive out here with a shattered shoulder and leg?”
Fetnalla considered this. She wasn’t certain that it was true, but it did give her a way out, something she could tell the Weaver when he asked how she had dealt with Evanthya.
“Fine then.” She grabbed Zetya’s reins before her love could touch the beast again with her magic. Climbing into the saddle, she glanced back at Evanthya once more, cringing at what she saw.
Perhaps she should have ridden away then. She would never be able to explain to the Weaver why she hadn’t, though probably she wouldn’t have to. Already, he knew her quite well.
Dismounting again, she walked back to Evanthya and knelt beside her. Her love tried to flinch away, but Fetnalla placed her hands on the broken shoulder.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, probing the mangled bone with her mind. “This will hurt for just a moment.” With a quick jerk she set the bone back in place. Evanthya howled, but she managed to lie still. A moment later, Fetnalla began to pour her magic into the woman’s shoulder, mending the splintered bone. After a time, she moved to Evanthya’s leg and did the same. This was a cleaner break and setting the bone proved much easier.
She didn’t do much more than knit the bones together and start the healing process. If she healed Evanthya too thoroughly, the two of them would be right back where they began. This way, the leg and shoulder remained weak and tender. Perhaps that would be enough to keep Evanthya from following her, at least for a while.
