Free Beyond the Gate (The Golden Queen) (Volume 2) by David Farland Page A

I’ll try to finish the job quickly. But Maggie, darling, I think you should stay here.”
    “I won’t have you leave me behind,” Maggie said. “You could get hurt or killed or lose your key to the Gate of the World, and I’d never see you again.” She didn’t speak her greatest fear: that the dronon were hunting them, and without Gallen, Maggie would have no protection from the creatures.
    “But if you come away with me, you’ll be exposing yourself to more danger,” Gallen said. “I’d rather have you safe, here, planning our wedding.”
    Maggie folded her arms, looked down at the ground, thinking. Gallen wanted her to stay. It might well be that he had her best interests at heart, but she couldn’t bear the thought of remaining here in Clere. What if he lost his key to the Gate of the World and never came back? She could never be happy on a backward planet like Tihrglas, not when there were worlds with starships and immortals out there. And she couldn’t be happy without Gallen near.
    And suddenly she knew why Gallen was so distant. “You’re not ready to leave Clere yet, are you?”
    “Sure, I’m not happy to be going. I came home imagining how I’d snatch some rest, thinking about going fishing one last time. But we’ve been home two weeks, and I’ve thought of nothing but the dronon—how I’ll handle them when next we meet.
    “One day of rest—that’s all I want,” Gallen said. “I’ll go fishing tomorrow, and we can pretend that nothing horrible ever happened to us. Come with me, okay? We can make a picnic.”
    Maggie squinted, wondering what Thomas would say about her leaving a hundred guests unfed at the inn. But it was her inn, and she could walk away from it if she wanted to.
    “I’m coming with you, Gallen,” Maggie said, taking both of his hands in hers, looking into his face. “I won’t feel safer without you, and I certainly couldn’t be happy without you. I’ll go anywhere you want to go—fishing tomorrow, if you want—Tremonthin the day after. I’ll be your wife. You know that I’d jump into pits of hell with you on a moment’s notice.”
    “Oh, that’s what I’m worried about,” Gallen said solemnly. Now that that was settled, he looked around, talking as he thought. “I’ll need to hire someone to watch my mother while I’m gone. I’ll tell her I’ve got work on a merchant ship sailing to Greenland. With the wild rumors flying around about me, she’ll think I’m just leaving till the furor dies. And we’ll have to send word to Orick, discover if he wants to come with us.”
    Maggie found herself trembling with anticipation at the thought of getting back on the road. “He’ll come.” There were a million things to take care of, Maggie knew. They’d have to leave town—escape Thomas—without drawing undue attention. Gallen kissed her one last time for the night. Then he took her hand and they slipped out of the stable.
    * * *

Chapter 6
    Night came with darkening clouds at Mack’s Landing, and Orick sat with Grits and the sheriffs on the strand under the shade of the oaks, warming by the campfire.
    He’d finished his third bowl of wine and sixth bowl of stew, and he felt more than a bit dizzy. When he’d first come into camp, Orick had been tense as a reed. But the warm wine had performed miracles. He felt drowsy, ready to sleep.
    It was late, and the sheriffs had gone to telling unlikely stories. One boy told of the village of Droichead Bo far in the north, where a young witch named Cara Bullinger learned the banshee’s song and sang it upon a hill, slaying every person, horse, cat, and cockroach within the sound of her voice. He said that after they took care of Gallen O’Day, they should go after this Bullinger woman. Another man agreed, saying that he too had heard of strange deaths up there—livestock and whatnot—and most likely it was this woman causing trouble.
    While some younger sheriffs looked about the campfire with frightened,