Prophecy, Child of Earth Read Online Free PDF Page A

being within the Earth, or the earthsong that still hummed in his ears when he was wrapped in silence, because she was there. He could still see her smile in the dark, her dirty face gleaming in the glow given off by the Axis Mundi, the great Root that bisected the world that had been their path away from Serendair and to this new place.
    He had been her protector from the very beginning, had comforted her in her night terrors, let her sleep on his chest in the dank chill of their journey along the Root, kept her from falling into nothingness during the arduous climb. It was a role so far removed from any he had ever played before that he hardly believed himself capable of it. It had taken every resource of self-control that he had to keep from locking her in her chambers now and driving her guide from the mountain. How he would deal with a double first loss—Rhapsody herself, and the memory she kept alive of being within the Earth—was more than he could imagine. If she were to die, or just never come back, Grunthor was not sure he could go on.
    And then, as ever, his mind cleared as the thoughts became too complicated, and pragmatism returned. Grunthor was a man of military solutions, and weighed the odds of her survival unconsciously. She carried a credible weapon—Daystar Clarion, a sword from the old world they had found within the earth, for reasons unknown, here on the other side of the world. It, like they, had undergone a significant change; its blade burned with flame now, where in Serendair it had only reflected the light of the stars. He had taught her how to fight with it, and she was a credit to her instructor, performing admirably in their campaigns to subdue the Bolg. She could take care of herself. She would be all right.
    Grunthor began to snore, a sound that was music to the ears of his bunk-mates.
    They settled back in for the night quietly, taking care not to disturb the Sergeant-Major's newly found sleep.
    Across the hall from Rhapsody's chambers, Jo was having the dreams typical of a sixteen-year-old with an obsession, full of chemical excitement and pictures of hideous deformity. She slept on her back in her grotesquely messy room, the favored sleeping position of street children who had found a comfortable spot in an area of town in which they didn't belong. From time to time she unconsciously dabbed at the beads of perspiration that dotted her chest, or drew her legs more tightly together when the flesh between them began to burn with arousal.
    The image in her dream was that of Ashe, and it changed from moment to moment. This was largely because she had never actually seen what Ashe looked like, though she had been closer to doing so than most. From the moment of their awkward introduction in the marketplace in Bethe Corbair she had longed for him.
    She had no idea why.
    Initially he had been nothing more than a pocket to pick, the glint of a sword hilt as he stood, near-invisible, in the street, watching the commotion that Rhapsody was unintentionally causing across the way. Upon slipping her hand into his trousers pocket, however, she had felt a surge of power that had unbalanced her. The mist that enveloped her wrist had caused her to lurch and slip, grasping his testicles instead of his coin purse. The row that had ensued served as an unpleasant but effective introduction, not only between Ashe and herself, but Ashe and Rhapsody as well. It had sorted itself out neatly, as everything seemed to when Rhapsody was involved.

    Now Jo dreamed of the image of his eyes, furiously blue and clear within the darkness of his hood, blazing down at her beneath a wave of coppery hair, the only aspects of his face visible from below. She had watched carefully ever since Ashe had come, months later, to visit them in Ylorc, waiting for any glimpse of further features, but it had never happened. Sometimes she wondered if she had actually seen anything at all, if the memory of his eyes and hair was just her