When King Prasan exiled the High Inquisitor, he should have abolished the office altogether. Instead, though it lacks the power it once did, the Inquisitors’ office still attracts the worst people—those who find joy or self-righteous satisfaction in hurting others.
Hurting children.
Hurtis such a small word, though, for a red-hot branding iron pressed into a child’s arm. I didn’t lie when I said burns were the worst. The pain was so bad I begged to die during those feverish days after they tortured me like that.
But I lived.
Ilived.
And now I’m free, at least for long enough to confront the draugrs in their den and find the key that’s the first step on the path to saving Altarra.
No matter what the draugrs do to me, it doesn’t seem possible it could be worse than what official representatives of my own kingdom did in the sanctimonious name of duty.
Bern, Andras, and Trick slow to a walk, and I realize with a jolt that we’ve reached the base of the Barrows.
“Find a way to pretend your courage is greater than your fear, and soon it will rise to meet the danger and become so,” I mutter.
Bern’s eyes widen. “Soli! Isn’t that Captain Wynona Wavedancer? The one with the Krakens? Ilovethose books!” He quickly looks around and flushes. “I mean, I did when I was a kid.”
“It is. I count on her when I’m scared, and I’ve been scared a lot lately,” I admit in a near whisper, suddenly wondering if I should be ashamed of relying so much on a fictional character in a series of books meant for children.
“If you’re going to count on somebody, she’s a good one to pick,” he says, flashing me a grin that reminds me how very young he is. Then his face falls. “I wish Lil …”
I reach over and touch his arm before riding on. “I know. Me, too.”
“What are they?” Trick asks, nodding to the Barrows. “They don’t look like natural hills. Not that I’m any expert on hills, but these just seem wrong.”
“Sylvan myths say that a race of giants borne of the gods founded Altarra, and when they died to make way for humans, the Barrows were built to hold their graves,” Andras says.
My stomach clenches. I’ve never read anything about that. “Giants?”
“The gods?” Trick says, raising an eyebrow. “More than just our two goddesses?”
Ah. This I know. “Legends say that a family of gods and goddesses founded Altarra and, actually, all of Terra. I never read about giants, but the Altarran people are believed to be the descendants of these gods, from when they fell in love with magical beings.”
“We don’t have time for a history lesson,” Kaelen says, rising in his stirrups to look behind us. “We need to get moving.”
“Good timing,” Trick says. “Here comes our own magical being.”
Elianna, drooping with exhaustion, pulls the wagon to a stop next to us. “What’s the plan?”
Everybody looks at me.
“Okay. Listen. Since we have to do this, here’s what little I know: the draugrs roam at night. Restless, remember? It’s better if you pretend not to see them. Once you let on that you notice them, they somehow become more real.” I try to remember any and every scrap of knowledge, legend, or even rumor about draugrs. “The more timewe have to search for the key before they try to kill us, the better.”
“That’s it?” Chitai is visibly impatient and just as visibly unimpressed. “We have to go. Now. The Zhagarn are getting closer every minute.”
“It’s not much, but a famous bard wrote a song about them. The snippet I read was:Beware the Barrows, unless your heart is pure. Beware the draugrs, unless your song is true.”
“What does that mean?” Trick asks.
“I have no idea,” I admit. “But in the old songs, a ‘true heart’ often refers to someone who is genuine. Authentic. Honest. Maybe if we sing a song that’s true to our own hearts? One that has meaning, like the song Bern’s nan sang?”
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Chitai chants. “Now.”
With that, she smacks a wagon horse’s flank to get it started up the hill and threads her horse along the side of the path to take the lead. “Now or never.”
“I’m with you,” Andras says and follows them.
