The Seventh Gate

35

Haplo was hurt and exhausted. He’d spent the day running from his foes, turning and fighting when they had him cornered. Now, at last, he’d eluded them. But he was weak, wandering, needing desperately to stop and heal himself. But he dared not. He was alone in the Labyrinth. To lie down and sleep was to lie down and die.

Alone. It was what his name meant, after all. Haplo. Single. Alone.

And then a voice said softly, “You are not alone.”

Haplo lifted his dimming eyes. “Marit?” He was disbelieving. She was illusion, the result of his pain, of his terrible longing and despair.

Strong arms, warm and supporting, reached around his shoulders, bore him up when he would have fallen. He leaned thankfully against her. Gently, she eased him to the ground, pillowed his hurting body on a bed of leaves. He looked up at her. She knelt beside him.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he said.

“You’ve found me,” she answered.

Smiling, she placed her hand over his torn heart-rune. Her touch eased his pain. He could see her clearly now.

He reached up his hand, brushed back her hair. The sigil on her skin, Xar’s sigil, was starting to fade. But it, too, would never heal. She flinched at his touch, but she continued to smile. Taking hold of his hand, she pressed her lips against the palm.

Full consciousness brought awareness, the danger ...

“We can’t stay here,” he said, sitting up.

She stopped him, hands against his shoulders. “We’re safe. At least for the moment. Let go, Haplo. Let go of the fear and the hatred. It is all ended now.”

She was partly wrong. It had only just begun.

He lay back down in the leaves, drew her to lie beside him.

“I won’t let go of you,” he said.

She laid her head on his chest, over the heart-rune, the name-rune.

A single sigil, torn in two.

Stronger for the break.