Trail Of The Torean (Book 2) by Ron Collins

said. “I don’t trust them. Not even a Torean order.”
    “Don’t think of us as an order.
We
don’t even think of ourselves as an order. We’re the Freeborn House.”
    “And that makes a difference?”
    “I know you’re afraid, Garrick. But don’t confuse the issues here. This is about right and wrong. It’s life and death. You need to stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself and start doing something that will make a difference.”
    Garrick hesitated. Darkness stirred inside him.
    “All I want is to be left alone to do my magic in peace. All I want is …”
    Sunathri waited.
    He wanted to tell her about the terror in Arianna’s expression, about the morbid sense of exhilaration that came when he ripped the Koradictine’s life force from its body. He wanted to spit out the torrent of bile that cut through his thoughts whenever he contemplated the depths of the burden he carried. He wanted to share it with someone who might actually understand.
    But he couldn’t find the words.
    And the idea of coming so openly clean scared him to his bones.
    He couldn’t do this.
    If he accepted her offer it would end in bloodshed and in souls of good men being stripped from their still breathing bodies. He couldn’t live with that. That was all he needed to know. God-touched, or not, he would deal with this on his own.
    “I’ve accepted this task,” he finally said. “I cannot break that agreement.”
    “You’re not seriously proposing that working for a crook is more honorable than saving Torean wizards from the wrath of the orders?”
    “It’s always honorable to keep your word.”
    They stared at each other, she prying, he defending.
    “I see,” Sunathri finally said. She mounted her horse in a fluid motion and pulled the reins to turn the animal around. “The offer stands for as long as you live,” she said.
    Then she spurred the horse into the woods and away from the mountain.
    Garrick watched as dust settled behind her. For an instant he saw an image of Alistair’s eyes, stark and clear. His superior had never been one to include women in his business.
    “I hope she’s all right,” Darien finally said.
    “She would have just gotten in the way,” Garrick replied.
    It was what Alistair would have said if he were here.

Chapter 16

    It rained steadily over the remaining time it took to arrive at the pass to Arderveer—usually just a drizzle, but once it rose to a great storm that pelted the soil with drops that were thick and cold. It felt ominous to Garrick. As they approached the pass, he found himself even more anxious, and more edgy than he had been before.
    His hunger was growing.
    It was an acidic burn in his gut, a scrubbing in his veins. It played with his mind like a nearly intelligible whisper. He imagined it growing within him, sprouting vaporous tentacles, drifting around him, searching, exploring, hunting. At times he thought his hunger even wrapped itself around Darien’s warm presence, but he pushed that darkness away.
    Perhaps he truly was learning to control this beast inside him, he thought when he made the hunger bend to his will, but, he could not deny that it grew more and more difficult as day passed.
    There was so much he still didn’t know.
    “Do you think you are god-touched?” Darien said at one point.
    Garrick shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it. “I doubt it.”
    But uttering this made Garrick feel like a liar. It was possible. More than possible. Braxidane had called him an apprentice, after all.
    “Why do you doubt?”
    Garrick shrugged again, but didn’t say more.
    Nothing felt right about this. How could he describe what Braxidane had done to him? And, if Garrick was Braxidane’s god-touched, why had the planewalker not contacted him since the laying of this curse? Why give him these powers, then leave him to his own devices? It made no sense. It was all so uncomfortable. Garrick hadn’t asked for this. He didn’t want it. And the idea of talking