The one called Dreanilis smirked. “I’ll attend to that gladly, my lord.” He motioned for the two guards to stand behind Mirri and Hanna. “In the meantime, we have other guests.”
The sound of voices came from outside the hut. For a moment, Hanna thought that one of the voices sounded heart-rendingly familiar. Then the hut door opened, admitting several people.
“There you are,” the man Dreanilis had called “lord” noted. “I would like to warn you that I haven’t much time to waste on foolishness, Oracle.”
Hanna’s guard knocked her head forward before she could see the people, but the person she had thought she’d heard earlier spoke again. “We don’t have time to waste on foolishness, either, Eladamri. Please listen to the Oracle.”
“Gerrard!” Hanna cried. She jumped up from her kneeling position and nearly fell over when the guard shoved her again. “You’re alive!”
Another shove from the guard brought her to her senses. Her heart pounded with relief and the cessation of worry and fear for him. “We feared you had perished,” she managed to say in a more even tone.
The elf whom Gerrard had addressed as Eladamri interrupted her. “They came from that ship you mentioned. We found them in the forest, no doubt looking for you.”
Gerrard was looking at Hanna with a strange expression on his face. “Yes,” he said finally, “these are two shipmates of mine. The cat warrior is Mirri, and the woman is our ship’s navigator, Hanna.”
Eladamri gave a short, mocking bow. “So pleased to meet you,” he said in a lilting voice. “Now, onto business. What’s this you say about joining forces to challenge Volrath?”
An old woman stood beside Gerrard. She was pale and clad in white, a turban bound around her head. Gerrard bent his head as she spoke in a gesture of respect. The woman stared straight at Eladamri and stated, “This man is the Korvecdal, the Uniter.”
“Yes, yes, you’ve said that already.” the elf said impatiently, leaning forward. He addressed Gerrard. “Your shipmate mentioned something about rescuing someone. Is this someone under Volrath’s control? Do you plan to face the evincar?” The elf seemed bent on egging Gerrard on, as if seeking some definite reaction from him.
“We of Weatherlight have a primary goal. We must find our ship’s captain, Sisay, and rescue her from Volrath. If Volrath chooses to fight, we will most certainly oblige him. Does that satisfy you?” Gerrard growled. Clearly, Hanna thought, the elf had gotten under his skin.
“Yes.” Eladamri turned to the woman. “Oracle, explain to me why this man is the Korvecdal,” the elf demanded.
“Very well, Lord of Leaves,” she answered with a firm, yet quiet tone. “As prophesied, the Korvecdal, or Uniter, will come to rally the humanoid tribes against the evincar. He,” here she pointed to Gerrard, “is the Korvecdal. I found him at the appointed spot at the appointed time, as the prophecy tells us. With his help, we can bring together a force of arms that will surely bring down the evincar.”
The old woman stopped, and a troubled expression crossed her face. She reached out a trembling hand and touched Gerrard’s face. Her fingers traced a long gash on his cheek where Greven’s sword had cut him during the fight on Weatherlight. “There is something else,” she said. “Something even I do not fully understand. The Korvecdal means so much more to those opposing the evincar than even I know.” She let her hand drop back to her side and returned her gaze to Eladamri, her voice growing in power and fervor. “Surely you can see that by coming together our forces will be stronger! We must do this, for the sake of the prophecy and for an end to the evincar!”
“Stronger, yes, but will it be enough to defeat Volrath? It has always been our duty to endure, not prevail,” Eladamri said.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Gerrard snapped suddenly. Hanna almost jumped at the force in his voice. “If you don’t wish to join forces, please let my shipmates go. We need to return to the ship. If you could assist us in finding it, we will leave you to endure or prevail, whichever you choose. We can fight with you or against you. After the day I’ve had, I’d prefer the former.”
Eladamri moved around the low table, deep in thought. “We have already surrounded your ship,” he stated in a detached tone. “But with a fire such as yours on our side ready to attack the evincar, I think it is time that the Skyshroud elves do more than just endure. Very well, I will tell our people to stand down from their offensive against your ship. Your shipmates are free. Oracle en-Vec, we must discuss a few things.” The elf looked up sharply at Gerrard. “We will return in a few moments. Be prepared to leave for your ship, Korvecdal. We must stop the attack by our presence, though I’ll send word ahead.”
Once the elves and the old woman left the room, Hanna flung her arms around Gerrard, reassuring herself by touch that he was indeed alive. “We were so worried,” she murmured. She could feel their hearts beating together. So many torn feelings and so much heartbreak remains between us, Hanna thought. I have no idea what he feels.
“You were worried,” he muttered darkly. Hanna looked up at him with a smile on her lips, about to comment, when his eyes caught hers. Slowly, hesitantly, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers in a long, drawn-out kiss. This is the way it should be, Hanna thought, as warmth spread through her limbs.
“Ahem,” Mirri cleared her throat in a kind of half-growl that brought them back to the real world. Gerrard reluctantly released Hanna, and they moved apart.
“We have much to discuss before they come back, Gerrard,” observed the cat warrior. “During the fight on the ship, the invaders stole the Legacy, including Karn. Tahngarth leaped to Predator, probably to try to save the golem. But we don’t know what happened to him, and the ship needs repairs. Tell him, Hanna,” Mirri urged.
Throughout Mirri’s brief report, Hanna stared into Gerrard’s brown eyes. There is a warmth in them that I have not seen before, she thought. At Mirri’s behest, she continued the report.
“After you fell, I discovered that the damage to the ship was causing it to slowly sink. We had to crash through the trees and land so that repairs could be made. I wasn’t able to get an idea of the full extent of damage to the hull before I left, but I know that our descent through the trees did some damage. The crew is effecting repairs to the ship’s interior. The worst of it is that when the creatures jumped aboard from the other ship and tried to take the Thran crystal, they cracked it pretty badly.” She looked full at Gerrard. “We can’t planeshift anymore. Unless we can find some way to repair the damage, we’re trapped here.”
Gerrard’s brow furrowed. “We’ll have to find a way off this plane. Perhaps the Oracle can help us. She seems to place a lot of importance on my being this Korvecdal person.”
Hanna shook her head in puzzlement. “Who is the Oracle, Gerrard? And what happened to you after you fell from the ship?” Hanna knew that she would be haunted by images of Gerrard’s fall for weeks to come.
Gerrard sighed. “A lot happened after I tumbled off Weatherlight. more from my own stupidity than anything else. I think I used up all my good luck and all my bad luck in the same fall,” he admitted with a wry grin. “Since we don’t have a lot of time, though, I’ll give you the short version. On my way down, Crovax’s dark angel Selenia snagged me with the intention of taking me to Volrath. I fought my way out of her grasp and crashed through the trees to the forest below. Since she’d broken my fall, I wasn’t injured nearly as badly as I might have been, and I had the good fortune to fall into water. Selenia tried to find me, but I hid until she left.”
He shuddered slightly and continued. “Then, the merfolk who evidently live in the water attacked me. I broke free and fled from them, but they were gaining on me. Just as I thought my luck had completely given out, I stumbled into a procession of humans who call themselves the Vec. I gather they’re natives of Rath—making some sort of pilgrimage through the Skyshroud. I met the Oracle af
ter that. She was looking for me, somehow knowing what would befall me.”
“How did she know that you were there?” Mirri asked curiously.
“She has the gift of prophecy, so she just knew where to look, evidently,” Gerrard explained. “Somehow, she knows that I am the Korvecdal, or the one who will unite the human tribes to fight Volrath. This prophecy holds great importance to these people. In fact, the Oracle told me that she doesn’t know the full ramifications of the arrival of the Korvecdal. My thinking is that I’ll work with this situation and turn it to our own ends; I don’t really care if I am their Uniter or not!”
“So, what is our next step?” Hanna asked.
“We must get back to the ship and ensure the elves don’t attack it,” Gerrard declared. “Then, we must find a way to repair the ship and the Thran crystal. After that, we find Sisay—and now also, evidently, Tahngarth, and Karn. The ship that attacked us would have taken the Legacy back to Volrath. So we’ll continue on to the Stronghold, just as we would have done in any case.”
As Gerrard finished speaking, the door to the hut opened and admitted Eladamri. Hanna wondered for a moment if he had been outside the door, listening to Gerrard’s tale. If so, he showed no signs of it. “We must leave for your ship,” said the elf lord. “Are you ready?”
Gerrard stepped forward, with Hanna and Mirri close behind. “Let’s go!”
Here ends the Tale of Hanna
“I’m so happy Gerrard survived,” Ilcaster sighed. “I love a happy ending.”
The master snorted. “Happy! Who said anything about happy or the end? Had they found Sisay yet?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Had they entered the Stronghold yet?”
“Well, not yet, but—”
“Had Gerrard confronted Volrath yet?”
“Not exactly, but—”
“In fact, at this point in the story they had not accomplished anything of their quest.”
“But surely getting the elves to agree to help them fight Volrath was important!” Ilcaster pushed back a lock of blond hair that had fallen over his flushed face. Neither he nor the master seemed any longer to hear the wind that filtered faintly through the high glass windows and stirred the thick curtains.. Both knelt over the chest, its papers spilling about them, the candle casting long shadows that streamed away across the flagstones. The master drew packets from the chest, pointing to where the boy should place them on the shelves. As he did so, he continued speaking.
“Of course it was important! But Weatherlight had a long way to go yet.”
“Well, I thought—”
“You thought! You thought! That’s your trouble, boy: you’re always thinking and never listening.
“While Gerrard was consulting with Eladamri and the elves, Crovax, Ertai, and Orim were burying their fallen crewmates in the forest. Just as they finished, though, they were surrounded by the elves’ patrols, swords drawn. Under the control of elvish magic, the very shrubbery of the Skyshroud grew around Weatherlight, pinning the ship to the forest floor.
“Fortunately Gerrard chose just this moment to return to his crew. While he put the fears of the elves to rest, Eladamri invited them to return to his village for counsel.
“Gerrard informed Eladamri that the attack that brought down Weatherlight, damaged the Thran crystal that enabled them to planeshift. Unless it could be repaired, they would be condemned to forever remain in Rath.”
“Forever,” softly repeated Ilcaster, with a shiver.
“Eladamri knew the elves had not the magic to repair the crystal,” continued the master. “But he suggested to Gerrard that there might be another way out: a portal, though none knew where it led.
“The elf lord also promised that his forces would besiege the Stronghold. If nothing else, their attack might serve to distract Volrath’s attention long enough for Gerrard and his friends to enter the fortress and steal away Sisay, Tahngarth, and Karn.
“Through all this talk, Starke sat silent, listening. A thousand thoughts and a thousand schemes flitted through his mind. Most he feared the Oracle. She was en-Vec, while he was il-Vec—”
“Just a minute,” interrupted the boy. “I don’t think I understand. What’s the difference between il and en?”
“I explained that earlier?”
“No, Master, you didn’t. Though you said Greven’s name was il-Vec. But I thought that was just part of his name.”
“No, no, you’re confused, boy. I’m not surprised.” The librarian looked at Ilcaster’s eager face, and his tone softened. “Well, it’s a bit confusing at that, I suppose. No, the Vec were a people, long ago accidentally trapped in Rath. They came originally from the plains of Dominaria, and in Rath they lived a semi-nomadic existence, trying desperately to survive. Some members of the tribe, however, turned their coats and joined with the forces of Volrath. Their own people renounced them, and they became il-Vec, while the others were en-Vec.”
“I think I see now,” said Ilcaster happily. “So Greven actually used to be an en- Vec.”
“That’s a bit simplistic, but yes. And in fact, though none of Weatherlight’s crew knew it, Starke was also il-Vec. This was what he feared the Oracle might discover. And so he watched and plotted.”
“It’s only going to get more difficult.” Starke sweated and looked meaningfully at Gerrard across the elven council table. “From here on in, the way to Volrath is full of danger even worse than what we’ve just escaped.”
“Still, we have no choice.” Gerrard’s dark eyes no longer held their twinkle. “Volrath not only has Sisay, he has the Legacy. And if he thinks I’m dead, perhaps he’ll let his guard down.”
“His guard is never down,” Starke muttered. Then, more audibly: “And how are we to leave once you’ve accomplished your mission—assuming you do? Your navigator has already told us Weatherlight’s Thran crystal is damaged, destroying any hope of shifting from this plane.”
“There is…another way.” Eladamri, the glowering elf lord, spoke now for the first time since the Oracle en-Vec had proposed this joint campaign against Volrath.
Eladamri continued, “Within a deep canyon, a long way from here, there lies an ancient gateway. Legend says it is a portal to some other world, though none know if it is a better place than this. At least it does go elsewhere.
“As for defeating Volrath, do not forget the many allies who will fight at your side. At last we can realize our dream of escaping this evil. And while we take the war to the evincar’s gate, you can enter forgotten passages to find your comrades and your treasure.”
“What passages?” Gerrard asked. “Nobody told me about these before. And don’t be so eager to rush into battle when you’re unlikely to win the war.”
“We can win. We will win. We must win.” Eladamri folded his arms. “There will be no discussion on this point.”
“He’s right about a back way…sort of,” Starke chimed in. “It’s unbelievably dangerous, but we probably would be able to slip in unnoticed.”
“A convenient piece of information,” said Gerrard suspiciously. “Were you planning to tell me of this at any point on our way? Or did you simply intend to lead us to the slaughter?”
Has he heard something? Starke sweated a bit more. “Your mistrust wounds me. Do you think I’m in a hurry to die? I barely had the opportunity to get our bearings when Predator attacked us. Now I have a better sense of where we are, and can more effectively guide you to the heart of Volrath’s realm.”
“Go on.”
“With you apparently dead, Volrath will turn his attention to the artifacts he stole. That gives us a chance to move without being noticed. The mountain that covers his Stronghold is pierced by furnace vents and tunnels. These passages are narrow and perilous, but they offer access to the fortress if we can navigate them.”
“Let me see if I’ve got
the plan straight. You”—Gerrard pointed to Eladamri—“throw yourselves at the front gate by the thousands, while we squeeze through some crack in a mountain, with a good chance of burning up or being eaten alive. And then, assuming we make it out of there again, we run to a magic portal that could take us somewhere worse?”
He grinned wryly. “So tell me: what’s the downside?”
* * *
—
The war council wore on long into the night—not that it was easy to distinguish from Rath’s dreary day, especially under the overhang of Skyshroud forest. Starke’s mind wandered, and he thought again of Takara caught somewhere in Volrath’s dungeons. She was so beautiful, so like her mother. He could not let her end the same way. His wife’s death still tore at the heart, and he winced with the pain of it.
His thoughts were interrupted as he realized the Oracle was looking at him. Starke had a sense that she was trying to recall something. About him? He felt a trill of disquiet.
She and her foolish Vec hoped to bring down Volrath. They really didn’t understand what they were dealing with. Surely the only sensible response was to side with the winner. But they didn’t see that. Only a few like him had the sense to offer their service to this world’s masters. If these fools knew who really stood behind Volrath….Starke shuddered, but quickly caught himself as he remembered the Oracle’s stare.
More than twelve years had passed since Starke had traveled to Jamuraa on his insidious mission. He’d had his orders, and disobedience was out of the question. Their displeasure was too horrible to imagine.
* * *
—
Rath shall be his Legacy. The prophetic words suffused Starke’s thoughts in sleep and in wakefulness, a spreading stain. They were the last things he’d been aware of before he was cast between worlds as heedlessly as a bit of rubbish.
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