The vermin he had fought at the beginning of his journey had vanished, leaving nothing but the evidence of salt water all around him. If this is Serendair, if I have made it back from whence I came, it’s probably submerged, he thought.
He remembered MacQuieth’s description of what he had found when he had walked the sea to the site of the Island’s destruction, hoping and failing to find and bury his son.
Where there had been highlands, there was nothing beneath the waves but rubble and ruin, melted statues and stone gates jutting from great mountains of broken earth, the towers of Elysian castle now pebbles in the swirling current. They had built seawalls, levies, in the last days, in the vain attempt to hold back the inevitable. That must have been Hector. My son would have been filling bags of sand to the last.
As he climbed the taproot, what had been the first of the pathways in their endless journey, he saw above him some of what MacQuieth had spoken of—broken walls and the detritus of cataclysm, clogging the tunnel above it.
Nothing recognizable except for what looked like a gate, crushed at the bottom of all the wreckage.
With the last of his strength, Achmed seized the handle of the gate and pulled with all his might, knowing against all hope that he was trying to open a door at the very bottom of the sea, on which an entire Island kingdom lay in pieces.
To his surprise, it opened.
Beyond the gate stood a woman he remembered, smiling brightly.
The elemental fire that had once burned at her core, turning her hair the color of warm honey, was gone; it now hung loose to her waist, a waterfall the same shade as pale flax.
Gone was the seraphic beauty she had gained in her walk through the fire; she was now just the pretty young girl he had run into in the back alleys of Easton. All of the flawless perfection of her beauty had faded into a simple, dewy complexion and bright green eyes that sparkled when she smiled.
As she was doing now, beckoning excitedly to him.
“Come!”
Behind her a giant shadow loomed, broad as a two-yoked oxcart, tall as an elder-oak, his skin the color of old bruises, his shaggy horse-hair and beard red-orange once more.
He was grinning broadly, displaying neatly polished tusks.
Whole again.
“Come!” she called once more. Her voice was musical, but held none of the power of the ring of the Namer. Her eyes met his, and her smile broadened.
“Come with us, if you want to live!”
As the gate crumbled before his eyes, and the sea began to rush in, Achmed’s heart leapt, and he could not help himself.
He threw his head back, as he had never before done in his life, and began to laugh uproariously.
Then he ran for the doorway and climbed through it.
Into arms that were waiting to embrace him.
Welcoming him.
After all his journeys through darkness, above and below the surface of the Earth, into the Light.
The Symphony of Ages Books by Elizabeth Haydon
Rhapsody: Child of Blood
Prophecy: Child of Earth
Destiny: Child of the Sky
Requiem for the Sun
Elegy for a Lost Star
The Assassin King
The Merchant Emperor
The Hollow Queen
The Weaver’s Lament
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As the daughter of an air-force officer, Elizabeth Haydon began traveling at an early age and has since traveled all over the world. She draws on the imagery of these visits in The Symphony of Ages series and blends her love of music, anthropology, herbalism, and folklore into much of her writing. Haydon is also a harpist and a madrigal singer (a singer of medieval songs). She lives with her family on the East Coast. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map 1
Map 2
The Weaver’s Lament
Prologue
The Prophecy of the Three
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 12
Prophecy of the Child of Time
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Prophecy of the Last Guardian
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
The Symphony of Ages Books by Elizabeth Haydon
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE WEAVER’S LAMENT
Copyright © 2016 by Elizabeth Haydon
All rights reserved.
Maps by Ed Gazsi
Cover art by Stephen Youll
Illustrations here and here by Joe Dettmore
A Tor Book
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ISBN 978-0-7653-2055-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4299-4922-4 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781429949224
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First Edition: June 2016