The Seer Rowan McAllister (top inspirational books .TXT) 📖

As she’d done the day before, Shura took point when they headed out in the morning. She had the best sense of direction and tracking abilities of all of them. He was relying on her to keep them from wandering off the barely visible track and getting hopelessly mired in the foul-smelling muck.

Daks and Ravi brought up the rear on Horse while Mistress Sabin tugged the pack mule behind her mare in between. The rain had finally stopped sometime in the night. And even though water dripped from every reed, leaf, or vine, and heavy mists blanketed the ground all around them, at least Daks didn’t have to feel the constant maddening beat of droplets on his head and shoulders, and the wool of his cloak might actually have a chance to dry.

He tried to distract himself from their agonizing, plodding progress by studying their surroundings, but even when the mists lifted somewhat in the afternoon, there wasn’t much to see. The boglands were aptly named, even if the title wasn’t particularly imaginative. Clusters of trees like the ones they’d slept under dotted the landscape where the ground rose above the waterline, but beyond that remained only a sea of tall grasses, broken by pools of reed-filled, brackish water.

How could anyone choose to live out here? But Vasin had warned them to stick to the border tracks because the bog-dwellers weren’t particularly welcoming to strangers.

By midmorning, the clouds had passed enough for the sun to filter weakly through the fog, but that only added to the otherworldly feel of the place, and he scowled and tightened his hands on the reins to keep from shuddering.

“Nice place,” he quipped, anything to break the oppressive silence. “Can’t imagine why more people don’t settle here.”

Ravi startled in front of him, as if Daks had woken him, and Daks experienced a little niggle of guilt, but only a niggle. He was so bored. Beyond keeping an eye out behind them and using his gift to scan for pain priests, Spawn, or large gatherings of people, he had nothing to do but stare at the back of Ravi’s hood, the women’s cloaks, and the rumps of the horses and donkey ahead of him. It didn’t help matters that the place was as eerily oppressive to his other sense as it was to look at. He didn’t try to stretch his gift too far, partly because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what lived out there.

“No one really knows how many people actually live in the boglands,” Ravi said quietly, and Daks sighed with relief. He was spooking himself.

“Oh?” he prodded.

“In Rassat, it’s said that temple postings out here are more of a punishment than an honor, reserved for troublemakers in the Brotherhood,” Ravi thankfully continued. “The people don’t like outsiders, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who came from here in Rassat.”

“That’s what Vasin said at the farm. They come out to trade sometimes, but that’s it…. Which hopefully means they’ll leave us alone, as long as we do the same for them.”

“Do you, uh, sense anything out there?” Ravi asked hesitantly.

“If you mean pain priests, then no, I don’t sense any nearby. I’m keeping my senses open, just in case. If there are any within a few miles of us, I’ll know it. As I said before, though, I won’t be able to feel if another Sensitive is nearby.”

Ravi remained silent for a few beats before he asked, “What about other things?”

Daks cocked an eyebrow at him, but Ravi still faced forward, and his hood was up, as usual. “Other things?”

Despite Daks’s heroic efforts at keeping a considerate distance between them, Ravi’s ass brushed the front of his trousers as the man shifted in the saddle. Between that and their eerie surroundings, Daks was grateful Vasin and his family hadn’t been stingy with the ale when he’d resupplied them. He’d need it tonight.

He swallowed an aggrieved sigh, did a little shifting of his own, and struggled to pay attention as Ravi cleared his throat and replied, “Yes, things. You know, like magical things or Spawn?”

Ravi nearly whispered that last word, and Daks had to fight a smile. But then the more he thought about the question, the quicker his smile fell away. How hard it must be for the people of Rassa to have so little control of the world around them, to be so dependent on such a small group of brothers to protect them.

In Samebar, nearly every town and village had at least a few wardstones or a Sensitive or something to warn them if Riftspawn were in the area. A select few even kept enchanted weapons to be handed out in the event of an attack, though those were expensive and had to be recharged periodically if the spellwork wasn’t of a high enough caliber. Hells, even in Ghorazon, they had their enigmatic village witches to rely on, and there was no limit to how many witches or mages there could be beyond nature itself.

Rassans had only their faith and themselves until a member of the Thirty-Six could be called to the area they’re needed. Who knew what damage a monster from the Rift could wreak before the Brotherhood arrived? Without magic, they were helpless to do anything beyond destroy the body, if they could, releasing a Wraith to possess some other poor creature or even one of their own, starting the cycle all over again. And even when the Brotherhood arrived, the village or town had to pay a heavy price for their aid. He’d never been able to understand how the Brotherhood maintained its power, its monopoly on magic, when there were so many other options in the world—easier, more efficient ways of protecting the people.

“I’d know right away if there was a Spawn within a mile of us. You don’t have to worry about that. They practically scream to be noticed.”

“And Wraiths? Or… maybe ancient magical objects, like before the