Healed by Hope Read Online Free PDF Page A

casting sparks as varied and bright as fireworks. When he spoke, his usually squeaky voice was loud enough to be heard for a great distance.
    “ The Torgon still lives,” the Gillygaloo bellowed. “We know this because he has walked among us. We also know that he recently left Jivita with the goal of defeating the sorcerer. I am here to tell you that Torg has succeeded. Invictus has been destroyed by the very darkness you have grown to despise!”
    Vikkama expected another uproar, but instead there was profound silence, broken only by the crackling fire and then by a good-natured nicker from a stallion that stood nearby. This prompted laughter, a sound that warmed the Asēkha’s heart.
    Captain Julich came forward and bowed respectfully. “Burly Boulogne, are you certain?”
    The enchanter nodded his tiny head. “Queen Rajinii, if she still lived, would have uttered these same words. I have sensed the sorcerer’s demise, and the joy of it astounds me. Triken is free!”
    “And what of Queen Laylah?” Julich said.
    “Of that, I cannot be certain,” Burly said, lowering his voice so that only a few could hear. “But I believe that she also lives.”
    Vikkama sighed with relief. Then smiled—and laughed.
    The Asēkha felt lightness in the air that had not been there before. The enchanter’s words rang true.
    TO NAVARESE, THERE was no other explanation. Ekadeva , the One God, had forsaken him. It was one thing to leave a city poorly defended, another to shroud it in blackness as horrid as blasphemy. What had he and his people done to deserve such punishment? Were his failures so unforgivable? His queen had ordered him to retreat from the Green Plains. Was she not now speaking on his behalf before Ekadeva ’s throne? Why this darkness?
    Navarese fled the fires, fled his people, into the mysterious nothingness. The ground at his feet was soft and forgiving, but the black air into which he ran swallowed him without regret. He was blind.
    Voices, behind him, clambered at his heels. He had no desire to listen. What meaning did they hold? None that he could discern.
    Now he was on his knees, sobs wrenching his throat and chest, tearing sanity from his sinews. He was alone in a world as black as hopelessness, and not even his god was there to render assistance.
    Then the horses came. He sensed that he was surrounded by huge, powerful bodies. Snorts as loud as explosions encompassed his kneeling form. In the minds of the destriers, Navarese was not a failure. Instead, he was one of their beloved masters.
    The general found the resolve to stand. Though he could not see, he was able to hear, smell, and touch. The great horses pressed against him, proud and unafraid, the heat from their bodies as intense as furnaces.
    Finally Navarese understood his god’s mind.
    Now he was unafraid. Never again would he question his god.

6
    TO NĪSA, THE SMELL of the ocean was more fragrant than the sweetest blooms. He stood on the shore of Akasa and stared westward at the crashing waves, as entranced as if under a magical spell. Though the Asēkha loved the ocean of sand upon which he had spent nearly two centuries of life, the ocean of water promised mysteries and adventure that beckoned him even more.
    Nīsa had been following Lucius and the Daasa for three full days and was amazed it had taken him so long to catch them, though the firstborn and the pirate had been on horseback while he had been on foot. Tracking them, at least, had not been a problem; the Daasa left footprints everywhere that resembled the cloven hooves of wild boars. And now Nīsa knew that he was close. Piles of pale scat still steamed in the cool air, which felt almost wintry, this near the shore.
    Even averaging fifteen leagues a day, it would take Lucius and the Daasa three more days to reach the port the Duccaritan pirates used to moor their sailing ships. Nīsa wondered how he would be greeted once he made his presence known. Would Lucius be receptive? If not,