So they descended back to a bustling world where Orin and Marin were eagerly awaiting them, the standard evening fare keeping warm over glowing coals. As the pair entered, Baron's parents rose to their feet and welcomed them over to the fire.
“You must be freezing!” Marin said, rushing over with a woolen blanket to Ariadra. “Come warm yourself. Poor dear.”
“Thank you, mother,” Baron said with a chuckle.
Baron's mother shot a disapproving glance to her son and Baron glanced to his father with a smile.
“I hope you'll pardon the meager supper I've prepared,” Marin said, returning to the kitchen. “If I knew we were having such an important guest, I'd have done things right.”
Another glance of disapproval was sent in Baron's direction.
“It will be wonderful,” Ariadra replied.
“Only if you like fish,” Marin said tentatively.
“I've not had fish more than once or twice in my whole life!”
“Well you'll be having plenty of it if you stay here long,” Orin remarked.
Ariadra and Baron looked at each other with joyful uncertainty. They had no plans beyond the wedding. They were free to do as they wished. But they both knew they couldn't linger long. The alliance needed them. The four sat down to the evening meal at a small wooden table. Baron's parents couldn't help smiling and glancing to one another at the obvious love shared between their son and Ariadra. It was almost unbelievable. They had never seen him like this.
Ariadra suddenly turned to Baron in excitement, placing her hand on his arm as though just remembering to tell him something.
“It's amazing what you've accomplished, Baron. I saw all the buildings as I rode into town.”
“What do you think of them?” Baron asked with a smile.
“Fancy, fancy,” she replied playfully.
The others laughed.
“Maybe I could lend a hand in the morning,” she continued.
Baron nodded eagerly, though he didn't completely take her meaning.
“I may have learned a few things while I was away...” she continued.
Baron was greatly intrigued. Ariadra placed her palms on the wooden table at which they sat. After a moment, the wooden grain began to subtly swirl beneath her fingertips. Baron's jaw dropped. Ariadra beamed with delight.
“You mean...you can...” was all Baron managed.
“Uh huh,” she said. “Looks like you're not the big shot in town anymore.”
The group laughed loudly and Baron stood from his seat and hugged her tightly. The meal continued on joyously, the group wondering what other surprises might lay in store for them. When the meal ended, they adjourned to the fire and Marin made some tea. Baron's mother couldn't contain herself, asking Ariadra a frenzy of questions. Ariadra did her best to keep up and Baron and Orin watched in grateful amusement. But the evening finally came to a close. Marin took Ariadra's hands in hers and looked at her with true gladness.
“I'm so glad to have you as part of our family. I already feel like you're the daughter I never had.”
Ariadra nodded and let out a tearful laugh. It was beautiful sentiment. Baron's heart swelled with pride.
Glad Tidings
Sheabor had lost all track of time. He had spent the first days of his self-imposed exile going carefully through all the documents pertaining to King Euthor from the monastery of Kester. But he hadn't found a solace to his grief. He still was no closer to understanding how King Euthor had managed to do his duty in the face of such loss.
But now, he sat alone in his tent, passing the days in grief and occasionally going for a walk through the plains of Kester beyond the city. He welcomed the coming war. He would be on the front lines when Corcoran invaded. He would fight well and perish honorably. That was now his fate. Sheabor could hear the shuffle of feet outside his tent. He knew they would come for him eventually and was surprised it had taken them this long.
The fact that Kester had never attacked the city meant that Aravas and Estrien had done well in his absence. They would do better to leave things as they were, not offer him command back of the alliance.
“Sheabor, please come outside.”
It was the voice of his friend, Straiah. For many moments, Sheabor sat motionless. But he hadn't seen Straiah in over a month and he owed him the courtesy of welcoming him home safe. He pushed the tent flap open and was greatly surprised by what he saw. Though he was expecting to see Straiah and perhaps a few others, it seemed as though nearly every man and woman in the alliance city had gathered outside his tent. There was a sea of faces now before him.
Aravas was smiling ear to ear and Estrien stood next to Straiah, her eyes misting with tears. Straiah had his arm round around her, staring at Sheabor with a joyous countenance. What was going on here? He almost grew angry that they would greet him this way. Sheabor opened his mouth to find out, but before he could speak, a woman stepped out from behind Straiah.
Sheabor felt his knees weaken and the breath retreat from his lungs. He had to fight from collapsing. It was his wife, Cora! She rushed forward and threw her arms around him, both weeping. There was not a single dry eye left in the alliance city. Estrien didn't know if she had ever in all her life witnessed a more beautiful moment. She was struck powerfully by the fact that, only yesterday, those who now shed tears of joy, had been shedding tears of grief.
Estrien felt a deep gratitude in her heart just to be alive. Though they would face many dark days and perhaps lose the ones they loved, she was overwhelmingly glad just to be a part of such grand times and to know such selfless people. Sheabor finally began to compose himself. He released his tight grip on Cora and gazed in wonderment at her, as though he still didn't believe it to be true.
“But how? Durian told us...”
Sheabor's eyes shot around the sea of faces until landing on one in particular.
“I'm so sorry,” Durian said, taking a step forward but then stopping, seeing the anger in Sheabor's eyes.
“It wasn't his fault,” explained Estrien. “He was being controlled by Corcoran.”
Sheabor was shocked at her declaration, wondering how such a thing could be true but nodding his head slowly that he believed her. Sheabor's attentions were turned back to Cora as she placed her hand under his chin, meeting his eyes with hers.
“Can you ever forgive me for abandoning you in such a place?” he pleaded.
She stroked his cheek in her hands.
“I forgive you,” she replied. “But try not to do it again.”
She wore a playful smile and he let out a laugh through his tears. Estrien liked this woman. She was going to be a lot of fun, especially if she continued poking fun at Straiah. It reminded her of King Froamb. Straiah must somehow encourage such behavior. Celebration erupted throughout the crowd and jubilant smiles were worn on every face.
“You'll be happy to know your plan worked,” Estrien said to Sheabor. “Demolishing the wall of Aeleos forced Kester and the Bearoc into a loose alliance. And we even freed Bowen!”
Sheabor was elated at her declaration.
“What's being done about formalizing the alliance?” he asked.
Estrien glanced to Aravas with a smile.
“Nothing, I'm afraid,” Estrien replied.
“We need to meet with them immediately,” Sheabor declared. “We need something down on paper.”
“I agree,” Estrien returned. “We await your orders.”
Sheabor breathed in deep. He looked out over those who had come with deep gratitude for not giving up on him. Though their numbers had dwindled and times had tested them to the core, those that remained were loyal to the alliance with everything in them. He felt a pride swell up that he had never before experienced.
He looked at Cora, who could see in the faces of those who served under his command a fierce loyalty to him. It made her love him even more, knowing what kind of man he was who could inspire such confidence. Sheabor stood over a sea of faces all looking to
him for guidance. He couldn't believe they had stuck with him, even after he had abandoned them in his grief. They were waiting for him to make an address.
“Corcoran fights to extend his dominion over the free peoples of the world. We fight for the love of the man and woman beside us. That is why we will prevail. Love is stronger than ambition. Love is stronger than fear or tyranny. And Corcoran will meet that force – the fiercest resistance he has ever known when he sends his armies to this continent.”
A cheer rang out from the members of the alliance. A new day had dawned. Darkness had turned to light. But then, as though Corcoran was somehow rebelling against his words, the ground all around them began to shake. It was beginning. Somewhere far to the west and deep beneath the ocean, the two continents had begun to merge. Two worlds had finally collided.
End of an Age
Part 7
Twenty long years has the gentle rain
Dropped on the stone that hides your face.
Twenty long years of sorrow and pain
I have thought of your burial place –
Thought of your fate in a distant land,
Dying with none that loved you near.
They who stole your tender hand
Turned from the spot without a tear.
There, beside that lonely grave,
Violets will spring in the soft May shower.
There, in the autumn breezes will wave
The crimson red of the last lone flower.
Soon will you wipe my tears away.
All my task in the world is done.
All of my loved ones, old and gray,
Slumber beneath the graveyard stone.
This deep wound that bleeds and aches;
This long pain, a sleepless pain.
In sweet time I'll cease to wake
And feel it, at last, no more again.[*]
Discussions
Durian gazed at the object resting in his hands, the Hammer of Haladrin, borrowed from Sheabor. Though the leather grip had been replaced many times, the weapon itself was unchanged since the day of its creation. Not a single scratch marred the dark stone surface. Durian sat alone in the archival building, studying it. The glow of the Candlewood handle gleamed within the Shade Stone head, a sight that still mystified him.
Was the spirit of King Euthor really living inside it, tied to the hammer by a piece of the Soul Stone? Was it the hammer communicating with Durian all this time? If so, why had King Euthor chosen him among all the others? Why was Durian so special to his plans? But Durian suspected the answer. King Euthor must have foreseen that Corcoran would overtake his body; that Corcoran's thoughts and Durian's thoughts would become intermingled.
Durian arose and walked the confines of the room, running his hand along the wall and tracing the scars of exposed Shade Stone that lay just beneath the thin facade of white, remembering the battle here just days ago, between him and Estrien, or rather, Corcoran. But it felt like a memory from a dream. He could see Estrien standing brazenly between him and the chest of documents – could feel the hatred and rage. But everything else was quickly fading.
Durian had relayed what information he'd gleaned from the mind of Corcoran. Sheabor and the others were more than a little surprised at the possibility that King Euthor and Sheyla might somehow come back to life.
What else he had gained – the positions of the enemy in the Westward Wilds – was nothing more than Straiah and Cora had already gathered. Corcoran had kept Durian from certain thoughts in his mind. Durian, in turn, had tried to keep Corcoran from the knowledge of Pallin's quest to find the tomb of King Euthor. Whether or not he'd been successful was a mystery. But Corcoran had issued orders for a full scale search of the area before leaving the Banished Lands in Durian's body.
It worried him greatly. But there was nothing they could do to help Pallin now. King Euthor had to have a plan. That was Durian's goal now, to figure out the rest of the story. He'd scarcely left the archival building. He needed to read through everything King Euthor had written and everything written about him.
But nothing so far stood out and Durian was growing anxious. Time was against them. With enough time, Durian could study the documents, even return to the monastery and research a full history of the days after the Great War. But Corcoran was already on their shores, and only Durian and the Windbearers could recall the chaotic days when the world was split in two. Durian had always relied on Pallin.
And with that thought, an idea struck him. What about Aravas? Why wasn't he here, helping Durian uncover the mystery of the final plan of King Euthor? And how hadn't he thought of it till now?
Walking from the building into the early morning air, the serenity and beauty of the glowing dawn filled him with brief moments of inspiration. But the feeling brought a sense of pity. Madrigan had once loved the subtle beauty of morning, when the haze would gather over the plains, to melt away in the early rays of dawn. But Corcoran had long since replaced such idle fancies with schemes to dominate all life. Nothing of his former, peaceful ways remained. Though he had written great poetry, he had forgotten the simple beauty of the natural world. How could such a thing be?
It was truly a tragedy. Madrigan's writings could have inspired their world for generations to come. But the power of his unrequited love for Sheyla had driven him to darkness. Durian had vague memories of Sheyla now, memories from Corcoran. She was different than Durian had imagined – playful and joyful, not the regal queen he'd expected.
In the tomb on the plains of the Horctura, once the plains of Cavanah, where her form was preserved forever in crystal, she looked so elegant – a true princess. But she hadn't always been a princess. Once, she had been a simple farm girl, elevated through marriage to the prince, Euthor.
Durian recalled the memories of the worry in her eyes in the latter days of her friendship with Madrigan. Durian understood now why Sheyla had put herself in such harm's way to try and avert the war. She alone knew the darkness growing inside of Madrigan. She felt a responsibility for it.
It was such a sad set of circumstances. But there was still work to do. Durian needed to see Aravas. Not many were yet stirring in the alliance city. Durian ambled slowly, still lost in thought. A meeting was scheduled an hour from now, a meeting that would determine the future of the alliance. Straiah and Gwaren had broken through to the resistance. Their representative, Cora, Sheabor's wife, had come back with Straiah, detailing the strength and location of the enemy's positions.
For the first time, the Eastern Realm could dare to hope. But Durian knew that something was missing. The pieces weren't adding up like they should. For Sheabor, the war was numbers – troops and battlements and fortifications. But Corcoran was cunning. For him, the war was something greater...something personal. The war had become a vendetta to defeat the purposes of King Euthor, which still somehow remained elusive to Durian after all this time.
Durian arrived at the tent of Aravas, hovering a moment outside. There was no door upon which to knock and Durian wasn't about to walk right in at such an hour. Durian had only just met him, though he had vague memories of him from when Madrigan had met him long ago.
“Aravas?”
For many moments, Durian heard nothing. But soon, the tent flap pushed open, and the form of Aravas appeared.
“I was wondering when you would come to call,” Aravas said.
“Why is that?”
“You possess memories from the First Age now,” Aravas responded. “It was only a matter of time before you would come to confer with the only other person in this city who shares your experience.”
Durian nodded. Aravas seemed to be studying him, as though he sought to know the real Durian, not the one he had met previously.
“Something confuses me,” Durian continued. “You knew Madrigan. When he saw you for the first time since the Great War, he couldn't hide the resentment he felt toward you. In the depths of his memory I saw that you had given him hope.”
Ara
vas clenched his jaw.
“Yes, we met once, only briefly. I've wished for centuries that I could erase that encounter from ever happening.”
Durian was surprised at his declaration.
“In Madrigan, I saw a desperate man in bitter grief,” Aravas continued. “For he truly loved Sheyla. I thought she could bring him to his senses. When war broke out among the Houses of Men, I convinced the other Windbearers not to get involved. I knew that Sheyla would go to find Madrigan...that she would plead with him to stop his campaign.
But she never got the chance. She was cut off. Instead of returning home, she persisted in her cause, searching for a way through the armies of Corcoran. She was struck down in a field, alone and afraid – her murderers never even knowing her true identity. By then, it was too late for half measures. We formed the cyclone that forever changed the face of our world. It was my actions that caused it.”
Durian was taken aback. Aravas actually believed that had he acted differently, he could have stopped the Great War from ever taking place. What a burden to bear. But how could he hold himself responsible?
“You can't blame yourself for what happened. You chose to see the best in Madrigan. It wasn't your fault Sheyla never got to him.”
“Yes, but if the Windbearers had intervened earlier, we might have spared her life.”
Durian didn't know what to say. It was so tragic. He remembered the rage that filled Corcoran when he found out what had really happened to Sheyla – that his own men had killed her.
“You did what you thought was right,” Durian said. “That's all any of us can do.”
“I appreciate your saying so, but my conscience still convicts me. Madrigan poured his heart out to me, a complete stranger. I saw the anguish in his eyes and I felt compassion for him. I didn't think a man like that could lead a decimating campaign against the free peoples of this world. But he did so nonetheless. And he will do so again.”
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