“But we’ve broken so many rules. Look.” I waved toward the milling crowd, the dancing, the races standing together. “Has there ever been a story like this?”
“No.” Yolian smiled. “I think there should be more stories like this one, though.”
“I do as well.”
The elf and I stood together. I waited.
“I am saddened that Cerulean couldn’t be here,” Yolian said.
“Me, too,” I agreed. “But in the end, she remembered how to smile. She told me to tell you: thank you.”
“Oh?”
“She protected me in my dreams. She fought against Garethen, even there. Did you know she used to smile often? Before she ever came to Chariis?”
Yolian sighed. “I am glad she was able to remember that she wasn’t always so bitter.”
“Did you know her then?”
“Me? Oh, no. I’m not nearly as old as she was.” Yolian looked down. “I don’t even know who my family is, honestly. I’ve always been an odd elf.”
“You have. And it has made me all the happier to have you as a friend. Thank you, Yolian.”
“Do you have any more loose threads that’ll be tied up tonight?”
“A few, I imagine.”
“Then I will leave you to them. I think I’ll join in with the singing down there.”
And the elf walked off. I awaited the last threads of my story.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
“Master.”
The pale form materialized out of the darkness beyond the reach of the torches as I stood at the edge of the festivities.
“Badron!”
Its large yellow eyes blinked at me. “Master goes to mother? You need another?”
“I do. I need you.”
“I will keep my vow. I keep it now.”
“I won’t hold you to this vow.” I crouched to look it in the eyes. “If you’re coming with us, I don’t know if you’ll be coming back. You probably won’t. I will not demand that you go.”
Badron drew away. “Master needs his Badron. Master needs this one.”
“I do.” I sighed. “I release you from your vow. You don’t need to come with. You’re free.”
Its eyes searched the sky, the ground, confused. “Why?”
“So you can choose what you want.”
“I will aid the races. We will take our places.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Why is master so grateful? Badron is not hateful.”
“Because you have proven loyal. Because you remind me that white goblins are just as important as any race. Because, well, you have stood by me. Thank you.”
It blinked at me again.
“You are a true gentlegob. And I will say thank you anyway. We will fly at dawn. Are you ready for our last journey together?”
“Yes.” And with that final word, it scampered off.
I followed into the darkness. There were a few more yet to find me. Ah, there was another one.
Kae’A winged his way down from the night sky. “I’ve found you.”
“I’ve been found,” I answered. “Are you ready for a long flight tomorrow?”
“Even weak, I found the strength to fly from Ban Maraseth to Chariis, didn’t I? And now Kree’Ah sends me strength from a place with only sky.”
I set my hand on his neck. “Your feathers don’t look as yellow as they once did.”
“A name gives strength, too.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m glad. But what about Yolian? Doesn’t he need a griffin to ride?”
“We will manage, those of the clutch that remain. Don’t worry. I am honored to bear you. A griffin bearing the Keeper of Tales? This is a story so rare, it will be passed down to my eggs, when the time is right.”
“Do you think there will be more clutches?”
Kae’A shook his head, feather dander fluffing into the air. “Of course. Why would you ask that? The Deluge will come. It will wipe away those who stand on ground. But even if you fail, griffins will continue. It’s what we do.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“Of course it is. It means that the weight of the world is not on your shoulders. It means that when we fly, you only need to worry about you. Feel the sun on your shoulders. Enjoy it. And when the time comes to fight, fight. That’s what griffins do.”
“Kree’Ah really has become a part of you, hasn’t he?”
I still didn’t know how griffins could smile like that. “Of course he has. I am far more confident than I had been before. And who knows? Perhaps someday I will be as confident as he was.”
“Thank you. I’m honored to be carried by a second griffin.”
“I will spend the night in the stars, Adal. I will return for you when we agreed.” And he spread his wings and leaped into the sky.
All the loose threads. All the goodbyes. Every last one.
Which meant I would never say hello to them again. If the stories held true. If they still controlled the course of the world.
If I didn’t wipe it clean before they could kill us.
And if my wiping it clean didn’t kill us, too.
“You men. You think you’re so important, Adal?”
“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Karen Cordolis?”
The potato woman marched down the cobbled street toward me. “What? With all those women making fools of themselves trying to please the men around them? Ridiculous! Though I have to say, I am glad to have met your wife. It sounds like she knows how to put you in your place!”
“She does at that.” I knelt down to be closer to her, and then thought better of it when my knees protested. I sat cross-legged on the ground.
She put her hands on her hips. “Well, good! And you need to be put in your place. Sacrificing yourselves? Planning on it? Why not share a little hope! There have been plenty of heroes in worse situations.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe not. But you can still use hope!” She shook a finger at me.
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right!” She harrumphed. She crossed her arms. She put her hands on her hips again.
“What do you need to say, Karen Cordolis?”
“You brought me back.”
“I restored you.”
“I’ve been many things in my days. I’ve been a doll. A friend. An inspiration. I’ve never been dead before.”
“You weren’t dead. You were... You were emptied, I think. But I was able to use the stories to fill you back up.”
“You’re powerful, Adal. It frightens me.”
I looked at her closely. So few things could frighten the potato woman.
“It frightens me. No man should have such power.”
“You’re right. The stories have great power. And I need to be incredibly careful how I use them.” I looked away. “I found out that Garethen was the Keeper of Tales before me. He caused the last Deluge. And that’s what turned him into the Fallen Lord. He did it to save everyone, but they all turned against him.” I swallowed. “And now I’m the Keeper of Tales. And I’m going to cause the next Deluge.”
“You fear you’ll become the next Fallen Lord.”
“I do.”
“Hogwash!” She snorted. “Adal, I’ve traveled with you. Any man can become a dark power. Any man. But as long as he fears it, as long as he has friends that will slap him a few times, he doesn’t have to worry. You fear it. You just said so! And as long as you’ve got Gayala, that wife of yours, you’ve got someone willing to slap you. And you have me. And Abani. And Daragen. And Galatea. And that man of hers, even. And that elf. And that dwarf. Of course, watch out if he slaps you. I think that might hurt you a little bit.”
I laughed. “So the secret to stopping a Fallen Lord is slapping him?”
“I am a wise potato woman. You should listen to me!”
“Yes, Karen Cordolis, most wise of all potato women!”
“Adal. In a
ll seriousness. You hold dangerous power. Keep your friends close.”
“I will. Thank you. I’m glad I was able to bring you back to us, though.”
“And I’m glad to be back.”
We sat together for a few moments, and then Karen Cordolis rolled her eyes. “All right. I should get back to this party of yours to make sure the dwarves don’t get out of hand.” She stomped off down the street.
I straightened up with some trouble. Apparently sitting cross-legged on the hard street really wasn’t a good idea, even if I wasn’t kneeling. I groaned.
Jayan stumbled down the street toward me. “Adal! They said you’d gone off this way.”
“I did.”
“You missed the father’s toast.”
“I’m sorry. I was talking with friends.”
“You weren’t talking with me!”
“Now I am.” I grinned. “So, your youngest son is married now.”
“To a fine woman.”
“You’re only saying that because she hit you.”
“That’s not the only reason!”
We laughed together. And then, “Is there enough room in the Spires for all my people?”
“Yes. We will keep them as safe as we can from the Deluge.”
“Will you watch Gayala for me?”
“Adal. You’re coming back.”
“Will you protect Gayala for me?”
He didn’t answer.
“Jayan.”
He looked away from me. “I thought he was gone, Adal. We both did. We thought the stories took him. And then he came back. And now he’s married. I didn’t think I could feel joy like this. But it’s on the eve of saying goodbye to the old world. It’s all so jumbled up.”
“It is. We don’t know what’ll come next. But I’m not coming back, Jayan. I don’t think I can.”
“I don’t like this story.”
“I don’t like it either.”
“You like every story.”
“It’s different when you’re living one.”
We looked at each other. We sighed. We looked away from each other.
“Adal, I will look after your people. If you want, I will rule them. But your wife is your business. If I tried looking after her, she’d probably rip off my arms. And then my daughter-in-law would punch the stumps.”
“All right, all right. We’ll do that.”
And we talked together. Two kings. Two friends. The way it should have been from the beginning. The one who had come with me to Chariis at the beginning of this, before I’d ever heard the phrase “Keeper of Tales”.
And then we stumbled back to the party. The elves still sang. The dwarves still drummed. The flutes had been passed around to other players.
Gayala seized my arm. “You said you’d dance with me.”
“I did.”
“It’s time.”
She whisked me away. We danced to fast songs. Slow songs. We laughed together. She made me feel young again.
And then we went to our chambers and wept as we said goodbye to one another.
There have been many marriages in the ages. There have been many husbands and wives. But never had there been a marriage like ours.
But now... Now I said goodbye to her.
The dawn came all too soon.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Dawn.
I woke to an empty bed. I dressed in silence. I put on my belt and unsheathed Northwind and held it before me. I should have passed this down to someone. Now it would go with me to the end. I slid the blade back into place.
I stepped from my home and out to the square. The sun sent pink and golden rays across thin clouds above. My breath came out in little puffs.
The griffins stood in the middle of the square, waiting for me, my companions scattered among them. Galatea was wearing Korah’s cloak again. Korah looked embarrassed. She looked happy.
My companions were surrounded at a short distance by my people. I think every person who lived in Northane stood in the square. They had come to see us go. All the army had come, too. They stood at parade rest, an honor guard to see us off. No one spoke. In the distance, birds called to one another.
As I entered the square, my people bowed. They dropped to one knee. Every single one of them. The armies followed suit. My companions grinned at me and bowed as well. The clanking of armor, the shifting of fabric, the distant birds were the only sounds.
My wife stood in Kae’A’s shadow. Her hand rested on his neck. I came to her, and we embraced. As we separated, I placed my hand on her cheek. She pressed into it.
The sun inched into the sky.
I moved away from her and mounted the griffin. My companions mounted theirs. Badron scurried in front of me.
And then we all took to the sky, leaving Northane far behind.
***
The flight to Raumioch Beti stretched. My muscles didn’t seem as sore this time. Perhaps I just ignored the pain. The nights were long and cold, but I had the stars above me. The Library may have been burned, but not all the tales would turn wild and rebel against man. For at least a little while.
Not every tale was an enemy. I turned to the tales that had taught me what it was to have courage in the face of evil. The stories that said evil could be defeated. These were stories that I would preserve. Stories that protected.
I told myself the tales of brave Northane. He had been a favorite of many of my men in the North, and I found it a comfort to rethink his eight journeys to the different lands that surrounded my kingdom. His adventures often inspired Northerners to travel.
The last time I had considered these stories had been on the approach to Chariis, before I had learned any of Garethen’s plans, before I had been sent with my companions to discover the truth.
Kae’A allowed me my silent ruminations, though on occasion he asked to hear the stories I was telling myself. When that happened, I would hunch over and call the tales into his ear. He enjoyed the fourth journey, the one that took Northane to the northwest of the Northern lands, to the mountains where griffins lived. He found what we thought of his race quite amusing.
Badron soaked in every story I told out loud.
We had far to go. For four days and four nights, Kae’A flew. I often dozed as best I could, clinging to his neck. Every time I closed my eyes, my dreams returned to me.
The stories welcomed me back. At least some stories survived and shared with me what I would need to tell them again. Once more, I saw my companions. Once more, I would be able to tell their stories.
Daragen had mounted the striped griffin Kereh’Kah and flown to the south. He reached Habrin and reported to his people there. Father Odenias embraced him with many tears. “You have been truly loyal. And now, my son, you will be the Father of Habrin when I am gone.” They wanted to spend one night remembering, telling tales of their city, but Daragen urged them to move. He mounted his griffin, and the people listened to him. They evacuated the city and traveled to the nearest mountains, striking out for high ground.
Galatea bid her new husband farewell and leaped onto golden-eyed Kerek. She flew to Scarletholme where she warned her people of what had happened in Chariis. They wrinkled their noses, but smiled when she suggested the plan. Soon, every Garrendai boarded boats heavy-laden with provisions. King Padokat made sure they brought as much wine as possible onto their vessels. Mates made sure no one was left behind.
Lazul was strapped onto Eh’Kanah and flown to mountains where he might contact his own race. He mourned the Graz as already gone and flew first to Delodwenar. Their caverns were vast and lofty, and the griffin was able to soar far below the earth in skies capped by rock. He reached their throne room and reported what he knew. He drank once with them before remounting Eh’Kanah, the white griffin with a blood-red beak.
The Delodwenar sprang into action, sealing off their caves to any outside passage, mortaring cracks and collapsing caverns larger than cities. They shut themselves off from the outside world so th
at not a drop of water might find its way into their kingdom.
Lazul entered his own kingdom of Jaed next, and it was all he could do to prevent them from throwing a banquet in his honor before he could speak. He was sad to depart so quickly, but he had other obligations besides his own kingdom. He named his grandson Lapis to reign if he did not return. He toasted the new monarch. Before leaving them, he received a magnificent gift made from the magic-smithies of the dwarves. Then the kingdom of Jaed did as the Delodwenar and sealed themselves from the world, so that Lazul and the few remaining warriors that stood above ground were the only dwarves not hidden by mountains of rock.
He then flew to Cassun. The Cassuni representative had been slain before we had ever met him, but that did not mean they did not need our warning. The men there could not fathom the full weight of the words, but thought prudence was the best action. The entire nation began to move to the mountains and to climb as high as man’s pride. Karen Cordolis debated whether mountains could reach that high.
Abani and Yolian flew together, though they had far to go. One-eyed Ka’Keneh flew them with powerful wings across the deserts of Parvia, from one oasis to the next, where Abani’s warnings and counsels were accepted, but the patriarchs were disinclined to act. They appreciated all that Abani said, but honor demanded another, a second Parvian witness for such an undertaking. Yolian was elven. His words could not be honored. Every tent city listened to its lord and remained where they were. Abani flew on with a heart so heavy it might very well have caused a lesser griffin to plummet from the sky.
They went next to the thick forests of the South. Here the trees grew so tightly together that a man could walk atop branches for miles without ever fearing a fall to the ground below. This was Hadrisar, land of Cerulean. The elves there were already mourning Chariis, for they had felt the whisper passed along from tale to tale all the way to the South, even as the stories went wild. Yolian’s further revelations caused shock, but the elves there resolved to do nothing. Now that Chariis, their light and their hope, was gone, there was no longer any reason to battle darkness.
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