"But that's impossible," Ilien breathed.
"It's not impossible," Kink said, jumping to his feet. "It's incredible!"
"Twice born you are, Ilien," the Swan said. "Much is possible when your parents are Nomadin."
Ilien looked at her doubtfully. "If what you say is true, then that means my mother back in Southford really is my birth-mother."
Kink looked at the Swan. "Yes. In a way," she answered. "But no."
"But you just said—."
"You are Nomadin, Ilien, and not just any Nomadin. You possess powers beyond compare. It is foretold that you will free the Necromancer. There are Nomadin who would see you dead before they let that happen. Reknamarken seeks to find you. He needs your powers. Gilindilin could take no chances. She hid you well, better than you may ever know. Yes, your mother in Southford gave birth to you, but only to what you see in the mirror, not to who you really are, not to what you really are. You would be wise to remember that not all appearances are what they seem."
Ilien started. "Gallund used to say that."
"Yes, I know." The Swan sat down again, lowering herself gently as if she roosted on eggs. "He was a worthy guardian. He watched over you from the beginning. He was wise to enter your life as a teacher, though I dare say he should never have taught you magic. That was forbidden. But he never was one to put faith in prophesies."
"And the Nomadin named Philion?" Ilien asked. "Was he also my guardian?"
"No." The Swan rose and hastened to the water's edge. "Gallund, I'm afraid, was your only guardian." She stopped short of the water and fell silent, regarding the frozen sun on the horizon as if it held an answer she couldn't see. "There was another, though, who would protect you should something befall Gallund."
"Thessien," Ilien surmised.
"No." The Swan turned to face him. "Thessien Atenmien follows a different path, though one that unfortunately crossed yours. No, Gallund knew well enough that there was still a chance, even though you were hidden, that Reknamarken would find you. If anything were to befall him—"
"Then my brother Breach was to protect you," Kink said, solemnly.
"The giant dog that saved me from the wierwulvs?"
"Yes." The Swan took to the water again, paddling slowly away from shore. When she swung about, her eyes alit briefly on Kink. "When Gallund fell in the marsh, Breach embarked to find you. Unfortunately, he was not the only one searching for you."
"The Groll," Ilien whispered.
"Yes. A Groll was already hunting you."
Ilien looked out across the lake at the sun, frozen in time at the water's edge, a glowing red ball poised between dusk and dawn. "Are they all dead?" he asked. No one answered, and he cast his eyes downward. "Then it's all my fault. And now Windy, too."
"There is no one to blame except Reknamarken himself." The Swan paddled closer to shore. "His way has always caused suffering. He is responsible for Gallund's demise. He is the one who sent the Groll, and it is he who has Windy now. Blame not yourself, Ilien."
Kink prodded him with a nose like a cold wet sponge, looking at him sorrowfully. "It's not your fault you were destined to doom all creation."
Ilien stroked the massive dog's head more for Kink's sake than his own, but when he spoke next he couldn't still the quivering in his voice. "What do I do now? How am I to save Windy when I can't be trusted to save myself?" He looked up at the Swan circling slowly in the water. "So many have tried to protect me while I've stood by and let them die."
Kink propped his head on Ilien's lap.
"You evidently don't understand what a Nomadin can do," the Swan said with a splash. She surged through the water in excitement, her wake roiling behind her. "Nomadin possess divine power. They've been created to touch the very Source. And if I'm not mistaken, you are the most powerful Nomadin of all. You just don't know it."
"You've got that right." Ilien inspected Kink's head gloomily. "I can't even master the simplest of spells."
"Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly," Kink offered, his eyes hopeful.
"Until you can do it well," finished the Swan as she glided to a stop. "Very well put, Kink. And Ilien here can do it better than any. He only needs to be shown."
"Are you saying that you can teach me how to defeat the Necromancer in the next two days?" Ilien threw his hands in the air. "Because that's just ridiculous."
"Two days?" the Swan exclaimed. "There isn't that much time! And I'm afraid I am no teacher of magic as Gallund was."
Ilien dropped his hands in defeat and looked away at the mention of the fallen wizard.
"But don't worry, Ilien. You need only learn one thing, and that, I'm happy to say, is something I can teach you. Anselm!" The Swan's shrill cry caught Ilien by surprise. Kink jumped to his feet. "Anselm!" she called again. "Now where is that Giant?" The feathers of her brow crisscrossed with annoyance. "I gave him one simple task and—oh—there he is now. Good."
The Swan paddled forward, smiling, and climbed onto shore. She shook the water from her tail feathers, soaking both Ilien and Kink in the process.
Ilien looked out across the field as Anselm came running toward them. "I'm coming!" he bellowed.
The ground shook as Anselm approached, and Ilien saw then that he cradled a small, curved tree in his arms. On closer inspection, and to his surprise, Ilien realized the tree was actually a wooden bow, giant-sized to be sure. Anselm stopped breathless before the Swan.
"You see, Ilien," the Swan continued, inspecting the bow with obvious satisfaction, "you have more magic in you than you realize. In fact, you've been using it all along."
Ilien didn't hear a word. His attention lay on the enormous bow in the Giant's arms, and the inch-thick arrows held in a quiver upon his back.
The Swan circled behind Anselm, pleased with Ilien's reaction. "Though Gallund made you study your spellbook night and day, it did you no good," she said. "It couldn't."
"I learned my first spell studying that book," Ilien said, wresting his eyes from the enormous bow to defend his beloved tome.
"No, you didn't." The Swan's feathery brow lifted in anticipation of what she was going to say next. "Magic for you is not something you learn. You already know everything there is to know, and perhaps more, if I'm not mistaken."
"What do you mean, if you're not mistaken?"
"Haven't you cast spells you've never studied?"
Ilien sat quietly.
"Mitra mitari mitara miru?" the Swan prodded.
Ilien eyes sprang wide and he cringed in fear, expecting at any moment to see green and white stars shoot forth from her wingtips.
"Ilien!" the Swan scolded. "Gather your wits! Do I look like a wizard?" Ilien glanced at her skeptically. "You know as well as I that spells are simply words," she said. "Some people can learn their use for magical purposes. But not you. You've no need to learn. Now answer my question. Why is it that you were able to cast that spell without ever having studied it?"
"I had Gallund's wand," Ilien stammered, his eyes revealing his lingering doubt. "And how do you know about that?"
"The same way I know about Gallund's ambush in the marsh, and the Groll that was sent to kill you. I can see more than most. Do you really think that flock of birds had nothing better to do than save you from floating to the moon? And as far as Gallund's wand is concerned, you know as well as I that it holds no power. A wand merely focuses a wizard's magic. It works only for the wizard for whom it was made and is useless to all others. Yet look what you were able to accomplish with Gallund's when no one else could have. Imagine what you could do if you had your own!"
The Swan suddenly advanced, the feathers on her neck standing stiff as needles. "Why is it that your wounds healed so quickly in Evernden?"
Ilien looked at her blankly.
"Think, Ilien!"
"I drank from a magical cup," he answered.
"Did you? If it was a healing cup then why didn't it work on Thessien's wounds?"
"Windy said the wolfsbane w
orked better."
"Yes. It did. And do you know why?" She didn't wait for his answer. "Because that silver cup held no more power than her magical feather."
Ilien shot to his feet. "That feather saved our lives! We soared through the air!"
"Yes," the Swan said, her eyes growing wide. "You did." She nodded to Anselm, and it was then that Ilien realized the Giant was behind him.
Into the span of stunned silence from Ilien came the loud creak of the giant bow being drawn back. Ilien froze and looked at the Swan in disbelief.
"Don't worry," she said. "If I'm not mistaken, this won't hurt a bit."
The buzz of an arrow cutting the air dropped Ilien to his knees. He tightened like a knotted rope, jerking forward, crying out in anticipation of the missile's deadly assault. It never came. He knelt trembling in the sand, staring blindly ahead, tears shimmering his vision.
The Swan stood before him. Her face beamed with delight. "Oh my!" she marveled. "I'm not mistaken after all. Look! See for yourself the power you possess!"
Ilien turned slowly around. The razor-tipped arrow hovered before him, as still as the frozen sun. He reached out a trembling hand and it dropped to the ground and broke in two.
"Yes, Ilien. You stopped the arrow that was meant to kill you, just as you healed your own mortal wounds, just as you flew from the towers of Evernden. You have passed the test, the test Gallund could never bring himself to give you. Do not be afraid of what you are, for only when you accept your fate is it possible to do something about it. Then and only then will you control your own destiny."
Ilien stared at the broken arrow in bewilderment. "And it's this power I've known nothing about till now, this power I can scarcely control, that will allow me to face Reknamarken?"
"No, Ilien," the Swan answered. "It is courage that will allow that."
Ilien rose, looking as though he had just been handed a scolding. He glanced at Anselm, and the Giant looked away. He regarded the broken arrow once more as Kink sniffed at it warily. "If I'm destined to release the Necromancer, then why have me face him at all?"
"Like Gallund, I, too, put little faith in prophesies," the Swan replied. "I see little power in them. But this I see crystal clear. Windy is in grave danger. You must go to Greattower and face the NiDemon or she will die."
A bitter taste rose at the back of Ilien's throat. "How can I when I have no control over this magic within me?"
The Swan's eyes lit up. "Ah, but you carry the answer with you, Ilien."
Ilien felt something wriggle in his back pocket. He pulled his pencil forth.
"Yes," the Swan exclaimed. "Your very own wand! Gallund knew that the Necromancer would search for you. That's why he found you first, watched over you, taught you magic. He was afraid you'd be discovered before you were ready, and that's why he made you the wand."
Ilien inspected his pencil as if for the very first time. "This is my wand?"
"Something wrong with that?" the pencil remarked in a tone that begged for an argument.
"There's one more matter," the Swan continued. "The matter that prompted me to wake you in the first place, a matter that makes your mission that much more important." She looked grimly at Anselm. "Kingsend Castle has been sacked by the wierwulf army."
The Giant dropped the massive bow to the ground. "The Book!"
"Yes. The Book that holds the Necromancer, the wierwulvs have it." The Swan arched her neck high and lowered her feathered head. "It's on its way to Greattower Mountain, and the NiDemon, as we speak."
"Then all is lost." Ilien spoke in a voice that signaled defeat. "The Binding spell was broken with Gallund's death. The Necromancer will soon be free."
"All is not lost," the Swan assured him. "They do not have the key, Ilien, and the key is needed to do the final unlocking. But that is another reason why I fear for the princess. My vision is not clear, but I fear she has yet a part to play in Reknamarken's plans larger than simply luring you to Greattower."
Ilien felt a cold wave of fear run through him. "My god! She has the key. I've seen it. A magical key that flew into her pocket. She has it with her!"
The Swan's tail feathers fanned slowly out behind her. "I feared it was so. If she does have the key, then all may be lost as you say. You should ride at once. Take the fastest horse in the Wood. You must make it to Greattower in front of the Book. You must retrieve the key."
Ilien narrowed his gaze. "You mean rescue Windy."
"Yes. Of course."
There was a moment of tense silence before the Swan spoke again. "There is one more thing, Ilien. The Groll hunts you still."
Kink stepped forward. "Then I'm going with him."
"No Kink." Ilien shook his head. "I can't let you do that."
"I want to," Kink said, his large eyes suddenly sharp and steely. "You can't stop me."
The Swan looked at Anselm. "What?" the Giant asked, looking from face to face as if he'd missed an important point.
"They could use a mighty warrior, someone with Giant-like strength, and courage to match. Unless, that is—" She motioned across the lake.
"Okay, okay," Anselm said, holding up his hands. "It's been a long time since I've been on an adventure anyhow." His ears turned pink. "Unless you count living with that missus of mine. And I'm not going on that one again! Count me in, too, I guess."
"A company of three!" The Swan beamed. "Excellent! Come. You should leave at once." She took a step forward then stopped. She turned to face Ilien, her smile gone. "Always remember what's at stake, Ilien. Never forget what's most important."
Ilien met her gaze evenly. "I won't." But as the Swan turned and led them away, Ilien wondered exactly what she had meant.
The three traveling companions trod in silence as they followed the Swan across the field toward the forest. Anselm walked in the lead. Kink sniffed the ground as he followed behind. Ilien brought up the rear, his apprehension growing into fear as the enormity of the quest ahead settled over him. He thought of Windy, who at that moment sat huddled in the darkness under the cold stone of Greattower Mountain, and clenched his fists. He needed courage. It seemed he had everything else!
"Will you stop?" he said suddenly, grabbing at his back pocket.
"I think I deserve a little better treatment, now that I'm your wand," the pencil chided, poking him again, "starting with where you keep me. You think I like being sat on all the time?"
"What do you mean, now that you're my wand? You've always been my wand. I just didn't know it."
"Well it was news to me, too."
"Oh great," Ilien said. "That's just great. Not only is my wand a talking pencil, it doesn't even know it's a wand!" He put the pencil in his front pocket anyhow, and quickened his pace to catch up with the others.
"Anselm?" Ilien asked as he pulled level with the Giant.
"Yes?" The Giant stared stiffly straight ahead.
"Did you know I would stop that arrow?"
Anselm slowed. "No. But I'm sure glad you did."
"Make haste!" the Swan called from up ahead. "The NiDemon won't wait forever!"
Anselm turned with a grim smile. "At least, I think I am."
Chapter XV
Runner
As far as Ilien was concerned, the Swan was leading them on a wild goose chase. The giant bird had said they were to leave at once, but an hour later they were still walking through the outskirts of the forest, weaving their way in and out of the even rows of tall, straight trees that grew beside the field. The way Anselm described it, there was only one way to the grove where the horses roamed, and though it was actually very close by, you needed to walk a long way to get there.
"Distance here in the Drowsy Wood is sort of like time back where you come from," he said to Ilien as they trudged past yet another massive tree in an endless sea of massive trees. "Some days, when you're busy having fun, the whole afternoon flies by like it was hardly there at all. Other days, when it seems like the chores will never get done, a few minutes lasts an et
ernity."
Ilien still wasn't sure if he understood, but to him it didn't matter. At the rate things were progressing, they would never get to Greattower.
Nearly another hour elapsed and Ilien looked back the way they had come. The lake was still clearly visible from where they stood. They had walked miles to get nowhere! He was about to say just that when the Swan stopped and looked back with what Ilien decided was an annoying smile on her face.
"Well, we're nearly there," she said, flexing her webbed feet in excitement. "A few more zigzags past that tree behind you, and a loop or two around that one beside you, and you won't believe your eyes."
"I already don't believe my eyes," Ilien moaned, looking back at the very spot near the lake they had left nearly two hours and five miles earlier. "This doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense. A few more zigzags, a loop or two around that tree—doesn't anything here work in a straight line?"
The Swan lowered her head on her long, graceful neck. "We can't be too careful here in the Drowsy Wood," she said. "If it all seems a mystery then that's as it should be. It is the one and only place in all Nadae that remains a secret to Reknamarken."
"Nadae? What's Nadae?" Ilien asked, not really caring for an answer.
The great bird gestured with her wings at the land all about. "Nadae. It is the world you live in. From Greattower to Evernden, from across the Clearwater River to your very own town of Southford and beyond, to places you'll never see, places as far as you can be from home where one step further brings you closer to the way you came. It is our world, and the Drowsy Wood is but a part of it."
The Swan looked at the forest around her like she would never see it again. After a few moments of silence she laid soft eyes on Ilien. "The Drowsy Wood is like a fantastic dream. While in it you should never question its logic, or else you might wake and discover that it's only a memory. Remember this, and remember it well. If all the world falls, this will be its last hope. Reknamarken must never discover its secrets. Never." With that she turned and walked away.
Sure enough, after a few more zigzags and a loop or two, Ilien couldn't believe his eyes. He found himself facing the lake again, the wind fingering the tall grass of the field before it. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
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