Back The Sending
Chapters (38)
  1. PART ONE: THE PATH FROM OBERNEWTYN
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. Chapter 14
  16. Chapter 15
  17. PART TWO: THE HIGH ROAD
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. PART THREE: THE PERILOUS DREAMTRAILS
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. EPILOGUE
  36. Characters of the Obernewtyn Chronicles
  37. Question and Answer with ISOBELLE CARMODY
  38. Acknowledgements

My cheeks were still wet when I fell into an exhausted sleep, and no doubt grief shaped a dream of Obernewtyn, or maybe it was not a dream but a dreaming journey back to say farewell. I saw it all as if I were flying over it like a bird, the wagons and tents lining the roads leading to Obernewtyn and all the roads and paths within its walls, fires blooming here and there like hot flowers. I heard the strains of laughter and talk and music and occasionally the sound of a dog barking as I passed over, and then it seemed to me I flew up higher and higher until there was nothing but the sound of the wind that whistles in the darkness between the stars.

I woke to the milky light of dawn filtering through one of the thick white mists that were common in this season. My eyes were swollen nearly to slits from weeping so I pulled on my boots and went to bathe my face in cold water from the stream. I moved quietly so as not to wake Darga or Maruman, who were sound asleep on opposite sides of my blanket. My buttocks were sore and my legs felt stiff, but it was my shoulder that hurt most. No doubt I had pulled a muscle while carrying the heavy sword. I went back and fetched my pack away from the blanket, opening it to get out a pot of liniment from my healing pack. I broke the wax seal on the pot and rubbed the ointment into the hurt places before pulling on my clothes. It would only be needful for a few days, until I, and my skin, toughened up.

I went back to the stream to wash the pungent liniment from my fingers and then turned to survey my surroundings. The ground rose up high enough in this upper corner that I ought to have been able to see the whole of the valley spread out beyond the sparse trees, but the fog was too thick. I could see only one or two of the closer trees and a part of the stream running past the feet of the mountain which rose up until it, too, vanished into the fog. Fighting a vague feeling of being closed in, I forced myself through a series of exercises to loosen my muscles, wondering what time it was.