Free Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) by Sam Bowring Page B

a thin woman lying in a velvet-lined coffin, who had ruled Kainordas a hundred years ago. Next was Gerent Morrigan, who had led the charge to turn back Assidax, and whose headstone was a birch tree with swords hanging from the branches. High Mage Reikel, a raven-haired fellow who looked to have died young, seemed somehow restless in his lasting slumber.
    ‘You’re sure no one’ll get their fancy pants in a bunch because I’m here?’ asked Jaya.
    ‘Of course they won’t,’ said Bel. ‘Besides, something tells me it’s not you they’ll be looking at.’
    Up ahead people were gathering before a shining white monolith. At their approach, heads swivelled and gasps sounded. Fahren was there too, managing to look both surprised and disappointed at once. He turned to speak with the others, and Bel thought he heard assurances being made that there was nothing to fear. Finally Fahren broke from the group and hurried towards them. Bel was preparing himself for the old mage’s ire when he was suddenly distracted by a grave they were passing, and stopped.
    ‘Dear Arkus, Bel,’ said Fahren as he arrived. ‘What have you gone and done?’
    ‘Had the enchantment removed,’ said Bel, waving vaguely at his head. ‘Losara doesn’t hide himself – why should I?’
    ‘I tend to agree,’ said Fahren, ‘and was going to discuss this with you very soon. But I must say, Bel, you could have chosen a better moment.’
    ‘I’m tired of hiding who I am,’ said Bel, still staring at the grave. ‘The burden I carry is heavy enough without having to keep it a secret too.’
    ‘I simply meant,’ said Fahren, ‘that we are in the process of burying my very dear friend, and your Throne . . . and if you look at his wife over there, you will see that your thoughtless act has somewhat detracted from the occasion.’
    Bel saw the Lady Raina watching him with tear-streaked cheeks, while nobles and courtiers spoke in hushed but excited tones. He remembered hearing somewhere that Naphur had only married her under pressure, for she had been the daughter of a Trusted, and he had gotten her with child out of wedlock. Even if that were true, she still looked very much like a woman who had lost the man she loved.
    ‘Ah,’ he said, sounding humbler. ‘Forgiveness, High Mage. I have perhaps been overzealous.’
    ‘To put it mildly.’
    ‘High Mage,’ said Bel, his voice returning smoothly to normal, ‘you never told me she was buried here.’
    ‘What?’ said Fahren, then glanced down at the grave Bel was indicating. ‘Oh.’ His expression became sad. ‘Yes. She was brought here afterwards and given a place in the Inviolable for her great sacrifice. It was only right, considering who she saved.’
    In the grave lay a blonde woman in a white dress, her arms folded across her chest, not much older than Bel was now.
    ‘She looks peaceful,’ observed Bel quietly.
    ‘Who was she?’ said Jaya.
    Bel pointed at the quartz headstone, carved with shining heart flowers and the name ‘Elessa Lanclara’.
    ‘If not for her . . .’ he began, but trailed off. If not for her then what? I would be whole? And living where? His thinking turned to white noise, and he shook his head to clear it. ‘She was the one who came to Whisperwood to fetch me. I told you about her – she fought the undead abomination Fazel and rescued me, I suppose you could say.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Jaya, and looked again upon Elessa. ‘Guess I owe her thanks, then.’
    ‘As do we all,’ said Fahren. ‘I think,’ he added, shooting Bel a reproachful stare. ‘Come, it is time to bury Naphur.’
    They made their way to the other mourners, where Bel went on bended knee before the Lady Raina.
    ‘My condolences, my lady,’ he said. He had never spoken to Raina before, for she was a withdrawn woman, sometimes sickly and not always on the best terms with Naphur, from whom she’d kept her quarters separate. ‘And my apologies. I came to honour your husband, not to