The Gates of Winter by Mark Anthony Page A

reason they want to open a gate is to help Mohg get back to Eldh.”
    “I believe you're right,” Sareth said. He and Lirith sat close by. “The sorcerer who held me captive in Castle City—his kind are ancient enemies of the Mournish, and he could not resist gloating as he held me in thrall. He said the Scirathi were allied with people from the world Earth, that these people wished to open a gate to let their master return to Eldh. While he did not name Mohg, it can only be he.”
    Lirith touched Sareth's hand. “But why did the sorcerers ally themselves with this Duratek?”
    Sareth closed his hand around hers. “They were promised knowledge of Morindu the Dark. My ancestors destroyed their own city, burying it beneath the sands of Amún, rather than let the Scirathi gain the secrets of their magic. The sorcerer told me their reward for helping Duratek would be the key to finding Morindu the Dark.”
    Lirith shook her head. “But you said before Morindu has been lost for eons. Who could tell them where it was?”
    “Shemal,” Melia said, her small hand clenched into a fist. “All of this bears the mark of her meddling. And I felt her presence near here not long ago.”
    “But would this Shemal person know where to find Morindu the Dark?” Sareth said.
    Melia sighed. “Shemal is a Necromancer, not a person. She was once a goddess of the south, as was I, but Morindu was lost well before our time. I imagine she was simply lying to the sorcerers in order to make them do her bidding.”
    Travis was stunned—not so much by this new knowledge, but rather by the fact that he hadn't seen it sooner. He gave Grace a shaky grin. “You and your logical mind.”
    “Don't be too impressed.” She stared into her wine goblet, and she lowered her voice so only he could hear. “If I was that smart, I would be able to figure out a way to keep Falken from asking me to fight the Pale King.”
    Travis glanced at the bard, who sat at the far end of the table. “You think he'll ask you?”
    “He does with every look. I'm only waiting for him to speak the words. It won't be long now. Once the army of the Dominions gathers in response to Boreas's call to muster, Falken will ask me to lead them.”
    “And will you?”
    She looked up, her green-gold eyes frightened. “I can't. I'm not that strong.”
    Travis took her hands in his. “You are, Grace. You're stronger than anyone. You'll do what you have to do to save Eldh.”
    And so would he. Why hadn't he seen it before? That was why Tira had given him the Stone of Fire.
    “Travis, what is it?”
    He smiled at her. “I love you, Grace. More than anyone, I think. I never would have made it this far without you.”
    Questions shone in her eyes, but all she said was, “I love you, too, Travis. No matter what happens.”
    He couldn't think of any more words, so he nodded.
    “Your wound,” she said, her tone brisk now, a doctor's voice. “How is it?”
    He lifted his arm. “There's a little blood still, but it's healing. Thanks to you.”
    “You should probably let it breathe now,” she said, and before he could protest she deftly removed the dressing from his wound and spirited it away. A long scab was forming on his arm. “It's going to leave a scar.”
    “Everything does,” he said.
    It was after midnight, and moonlight streamed through high windows, as he made his way through an empty hall, back toward his chamber. He had spent the hours since supper roaming the castle; he had needed time to think, to make sure what he was going to do was the right thing.
    Except it was, and the real reason he had been wandering was in hope he would see one of them. Neither Beltan nor Vani had been at supper. However, which was the one he hoped to find?
    It didn't matter. He hadn't found either of them, and maybe that was a good thing. It would only make what he had to do harder. With a sigh, he headed down a corridor.
    He rounded a corner, and a laugh escaped him. Why was it you always