The Taleweaver

Battle of Belgera, part eight

"What do you mean leave Belgera?" Harbend asked.

The golden mindwalker stared back at him, into him, walked unseen lanes in his mind and crossed borders of privacy with an ease Harbend would never forgive.

"You will obey me! Escha is on his way, and together the two of you will remove the taleweaver from this madness."

Futile as it was Harbend still clung to the remnants of his dignity. "But the caravan? Nakora?"

Again Neritan sang in his inner world of thoughts. There was a sense of a memory lost, as if something important had been stolen and then even that was ripped out. Pain, but no recollection of the reason.

Harbend left the building with a pulsing headache. A feeling of urgency nagged at the edges of his mind, as if he had forgotten something important. Then truth flashed through him. He had to find Arthur and make certain he was jumped away from the capital turned battlefield. Aghast he hadn't thought of the possible repercussions of a dead taleweaver Harbend ran in search of Escha. Gods! Better a late revelation than none. He shook his head wondering why no one else had come to think of the need to evacuate the taleweaver.

Now, if he could only find Mindwalker Hwain, locating Arthur shouldn't turn out too difficult.