His breath froze in his throat. Were there snakes in Ledge Hall? That was why there were no rats! The rasping grew louder, closer. Something was slithering toward his bed. He instinctively pulled his legs to his chest and curled into a ball.
His bed jumped! A low rumble followed. The rasping sound stopped.
Ilien traced the Light rune in the air. The room flared with clear, bright light. Ilien threw off the covers and jumped to his feet. He stood on his bed, his pencil raised high.
Pedustil stood wide-eyed before him. His left wing flew out in surprise, crashing into the wardrobe against the wall and knocking it on its side. The Gorgul looked ready to flee as he blinked in the penetrating light of Ilien's Nihilic spell.
"What are you doing here?" cried Ilien, steadying himself against the headboard. "You shouldn't sneak into other people's rooms!"
Pedustil's loose wing sagged to the floor. He glanced around the room as if he expected to see Bulcrist standing cross-armed in the corner. "How did you do that?" he asked. "I thought only the Master knew that spell."
Ilien sat down on the bed, and stuck his lifeless wand back in his pocket. "I don't know. There's so much I don't know, but somehow just know. It's beginning to worry me!" He looked at the Gorgul and took a kinder tone. "You scared me. What are you doing here?"
Pedustil turned and regarded his errant wing. With forced effort he slowly tucked it back into place. Satisfied, he looked sheepishly at Ilien.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not supposed to be here. If Bulcrist knew . . ." He glanced at the open doors. With a gentle swish of his tail he closed them. "I've come to offer you my services for the night. I can take you to see your mother in Southford."
Ilien, too, looked quickly at the doors almost expecting to see Bulcrist spying on them.
"It's far, but I fly very fast. If we leave now we can return before daybreak, assuming we don't meet any resistance." He said this last word with added emphasis and his gills flexed outward, releasing a puff of steam. "Assuming we don't meet any Nomadin, I mean."
"I don't understand," said Ilien. "Why would you take me to Southford when Bulcrist has forbidden it? If we bring my mother back here, then he'll know what you did."
Pedustil's eyes narrowed. "If we go, it's only to make sure your mother is safe. We can't bring her here. We mustn't bring her here."
"Then I won't go," said Ilien. "I won't leave her at the mercy of the Nomadin." He crossed his arms and looked away, one eye on the doors.
"Understand, Ilien," said Pedustil. "I don't wish to leave your mother in danger. I want to protect her."
"Explain," said Ilien.
"You must never bring her here. She is safer in the hands of the Nomadin than in Bulcrist's clutches."
"What do you mean? What does he want with my mother?"
"The same thing the Nomadin want, but for different reasons."
"The Nomadin want me dead," replied Ilien.
Pedustil fell silent.
A cold fear ran through Ilien, and his Nihilic light went out. He froze in the blackness, his heart beating fast. He tried to remember the Nihilic rune, but his mind seized with panic. If what Pedustil said was true, they were all in danger. If Bulcrist wanted to kill him—
Two green lanterns sprang alight before him, bathing the room in a pale, watery glow. It took Ilien a breathless moment to realize that Bulcrist hadn't found them. The lanterns were Pedustil's eyes, smoldering in the dark with a light of their own.
"Are you alright?" asked the Gorgul, the tip of his long snout softly illuminated by the phosphorescence of his eyes.
"I'm fine," said Ilien, his senses returning. He peered into the depths of Pedustil's eyes. Moonlit fog on water, he thought. "How do you do that?"
"You don't come from the Drowsy Wood without a little magic inside you," replied the Gorgul.
"Is that where you come from?"
"It's where I was stolen from."
"Stolen?" said Ilien. "Then why don't you leave, run away, return home to your parents?"
Pedustil lowered his head. "Bulcrist stole me when I was an egg. He is the only family I've ever known. It is a Gorgul's nature to bond for life with the one it sees first, and that one for me was Bulcrist."
"You bond even if you don't want to?"
Pedustil's eyes brightened. "You cannot chose your parents, Ilien. My fate is tied to Bulcrist's, and his to mine."
"Wait," said Ilien. "How could a NiDemon enter the Drowsy Wood? The secrets of the Wood are unknown to Reknamarken and his servants."
"Bulcrist wasn't always a NiDemon." Pedustil's ears tilted backwards, listening. He glanced at the doors again. Satisfied, he continued. "Like you, he was Nomadin-born. Like you, he is a son of the first line. And just like you, he became NiDemon in the end."
"I am not a NiDemon," said Ilien. "I never will be." But beneath his words he thought, So Bulcrist was a Nomadin child, too. That's how the Swan came to know him. She took him under her wing when he was young.
"I have a confession," said Pedustil. "I led you to believe that Bulcrist wants to kill you. That's not exactly true. The Nomadin want to kill you. Bulcrist only wants someone to try."
"That makes me feel so much better."
"The Nomadin believe you will fulfill the prophesy and release Reknamarken. They'll kill you to prevent that. Bulcrist, no matter what he says, believes you are Reknamarken, and all the proof he needs is for someone to try to kill you. If you are Reknamarken, then it should be impossible to do so."
Ilien shook his head. "Weren't you listening when you were eavesdropping? Philion was wrong. The book was a fake. I can't possibly be Reknamarken, and I don't want to prove it, either."
"Regardless, that is what Bulcrist believes."
"Then why did he tell me—"
"He told you what you wanted to hear," replied Pedustil. "The fact remains that he does believe you're Reknamarken, and the only way to prove it is to let someone try to kill you. Learn your lessons well, Ilien. Bulcrist will take you to Amandalia in the guise of helping you, but he will not protect you or Windy. Windy is expendable, but for you he needs proof."
Ilien looked away. "Then he's taking me to my death."
"Only if you let him. Who you are is not as important as what you do, what you believe."
"I don't know what to believe. A month ago, I was a normal boy from normal parents in a normal town. A week ago, I was the only child of magical parents, destined to destroy the world. Now I find I might be the devil reborn. I don't know anything anymore."
"Correction," said Pedustil with a smile. "Creator reborn."
"What?"
"You said devil reborn. Have you learned nothing from Bulcrist's tale? Reknamarken is the Creator. That would make you the Creator reborn. Take comfort in that."
"That's assuming I believe Bulcrist's story. If I've learned anything over the last few weeks it's to trust no one. Besides," added Ilien, "look at the world. I wouldn't take comfort from it if I was the Creator."
Pedustil's eyes dimmed. "What will you do now?"
"What do you mean?"
The Gorgul brought his face closer to Ilien's. "You heard me. You know all the rumors and prophesies. You know what the Nomadin believe and want. You know what Bulcrist believes and wants. What do you believe and want? Are you the prophesied child? Are you the Creator reborn? You have choices to make, choices that are yours alone."
"This coming from someone who is bonded to a NiDemon whether he likes it or not?"
A gleam of white flashed in the gloom beneath Pedustil's long snout. Fangs.
"I made my choices long ago," said the Gorgul. "It's time for you to do likewise. Shall we fly to Southford to check on your mother, or shall I go back to sleep? The night is getting old, and my patience is wearing thin."
"One more thing," said Ilien, lowering his voice. "If Bulcrist is convinced that I'm Reknamarken, then why doesn't he try to kill me himself?"
"That's obvious," replied Pedustil, his green ey
es flashing. "Because he fears you."
"Fears me?"
"He thinks you're Reknamarken. Now enough of your questions. What do you want to do?"
Ilien looked to the doors again. Pedustil was right. It was getting late. "What about Windy? Can we take her to see her father?"
"There's no time. We go alone."
Ilien sat silent. His decision was made. He would go see his mother. "Let's go," he said. "We'll check on my mother and leave her a note. Then we'll return."
Pedustil blinked in agreement, and the room flickered. "Follow me and keep quiet. We can't risk a light so hold tight to the tip of my tail. I'll be turning off my eyes, so to speak."
Pedustil swung about and Ilien ducked as the Gorgul's tail sailed ponderously over his head. He reached up, grabbed its scaly tip, and the lights winked out.
"Remember. Keep quiet," whispered Pedustil.
The Gorgul led him from the pitch black of his room into the pitch black of the wide stone corridor. A chilling thought came to Ilien. If he did retrieve the map, and he wasn't going to give it to the NiDemon, should he give it to a Nomadin?
They stumbled through Ledge Hall toward the lower levels. Ilien clung to Pedustil's tail, thankful for the Gorgul's guidance. His sense of direction had left him soon after exiting his room. Their footfalls sounded close in their ears as they traveled the halls, but suddenly they echoed around them. They had entered the Great Hall, and a thought came to Ilien. He stopped and tugged on the Gorgul's tail.
"The watch dogs," he whispered. "Bulcrist's wolves! How will we get past them?"
Pedustil's tail twitched, jerking Ilien forward. "They are out hunting tonight. They won't bother us." Ilien still hesitated. "If they do," continued Pedustil, "I won't need to eat for a month." The light of his eyes flashed briefly, illuminating a fang-filled grin. "Come on." With that the Gorgul led Ilien out of the Great Hall and down the stairs.
The night air was crisp and cool, and smelled wonderfully clean. Ilien stood outside the main gate, its golden double doors grim and grey in the gloom, and breathed deep. He hadn't realized how stuffy and dank the interior of Ledge Hall was until now. The rumble of the river sounded louder than he remembered after the hushed interior of the Hall. Looking up, he saw the stars, stark white sparks in the black sky above.
"Make haste," said Pedustil behind him. The Gorgul also breathed deep the fresh air, and vapor lingered around his gills. "The night is growing old. Come."
Pedustil instructed Ilien how to climb onto his back, and where to sit—just in front of his wings where a small impression made a seat of sorts, hard with scales but yielding. "Hold the spike in front of you and don't let go."
Ilien did as he was told. He found the small fin, like a scale grown awry, and tested his grip.
"I'll be flying fast, so hold tight and hunker down. It should be a two hour journey, perhaps a bit longer."
"Wait," said Ilien. "How do you know where you're going? Have you been to Southford before?"
"I know all the lands east and west of the mountains," replied the Gorgul. "Southford lies due south of Evernden, and Evernden sits on the edge of the Far Plains, but a stone's throw west of the mountains as the Gorgul flies. Now keep quiet and hold tight. Remember, we're only going to check on your mother. That is your bargain for my taking you. We will look in on her unseen and return by daybreak. Bulcrist will be very angry with me if he discovers I've broken his commands."
Ilien nodded in the dark but remained silent. Pedustil stamped a clawed foot on the stony ground. "Promise me," he growled. "Promise me you'll keep to your bargain."
"I will," said Ilien, reluctantly.
"Good. Hold tight, and try not to be afraid."
Pedustil leapt forward, and ran toward the river. Ilien clung to his scaly back as best he could, gripping the small horn as he bounced about awkwardly. Pedustil held his leathery wings tucked close to his body to form a cage that prevented Ilien from falling off. The sound of the river loomed nearer, its dull roar rising up to drown out the Gorgul's heavy footfalls. In a few seconds, they'd crash into the water at full stride. Ilien jolted upward. Wasn't Pedustil nearsighted?
Pedustil's wings shot outward as he leapt into the air. His vast wings, black in the darkness, heaved downward. The sound of the rushing water passed below as they lifted from the ground. Ilien clutched at the horn in front of him, sliding from side to side, but soon the Gorgul's wings beat slow and smooth and his body stilled. Ilien let out an anxious breath. The Gorgul's poor eyesight didn't hinder him from taking off in the dark, but what about landing? Ilien tried not to think about it. He would worry about landing when the time came.
The night-shrouded land was black and formless below, save for a spark of light from the small window in Ledge Hall's tall, steep side—the watch light of Bulcrist. The stars hovered like a swarm of fireflies above, twisting and turning as Pedustil spiraled upward on the wind. The watch light soon faded in the distance and Pedustil rose higher into the cool night sky.
Up they circled, and the air turned chill. Without thought, Ilien incanted the spell that had kept him and Windy warm on their flight from Greattower. To his surprise, a blanket of heat spread over him in the blackness. He hunkered down in the small depression of Pedustil's scaly back and his spirits lifted. Here, in the wide open world outside Ledge Hall, his Nomadin magic had returned! Relief flooded through him. The True Language still held a special comfort, like returning home after a long journey. He basked in the warm radiance of his spell, a weary traveler soaking in the heat of a glowing hearth.
He cupped his hands and whispered, "Kinil ubid, illubid kinar." Beyond all hope, Globe blazed to life before him.
"Globe!" he cried, as the wind picked up speed around him. Globe dimmed in response but remained silent. Ilien longed to hear her speak again, longed for her comforting voice to tell him that everything would be okay.
"Get ready!" shouted Pedustil. They had stopped their spiraling ascent, and were accelerating at an alarming pace. "Here we go!"
Ilien braced himself. All at once the night jumped around them, and Ilien cowered in the small of Pedustil's back as they streaked across the sky. He cupped the flickering Globe in his hands, and prayed his mother was safe.
Pedustil proved to be an agile flyer. Unlike riding the Swan, Ilien quickly relaxed despite the lack of feathers to cling to. Even the spike on the Gorgul's back was unnecessary. The land hurried by below, a starlit terrain in miniature that took Ilien's breath away and made his head swim. He didn't look down too often.
Neither said a word as they traveled. All seemed said before they left. They were on a forbidden journey for Ilien's sake alone, a journey that could easily go awry. It might have been his imagination, but Ilien sensed a growing tension in the whistling wind, an unspoken fear of what they were doing. It was a blessing, thought Ilien, that they could not talk.
Instead, Ilien spoke to Globe as the tiny light sat hovering in his lap. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I conjured you several times but you never came."
Globe dimmed in response. Ilien peered into her faint glow, hoping to discern something, anything, within it. He couldn't. "I'm glad you're here now," he said. "It's good to see a familiar face." He faltered a moment, realizing that his choice to enter the NiDemon's hall and practice the Nihilic rune was the true reason she had forsaken him. Did she feel betrayed?
"I missed you," he whispered.
Globe brightened at that, but offered no comforting words. Ilien felt ashamed, like the time he'd broken Farmer Parson's window, but somehow worse. His wrongdoing then had been an accident.
"I'm doing what I have to," he said. He knew he couldn't justify his actions to Globe, a creature of the True Language. His shame overwhelmed him and he looked away.
"Be. Then do. Then have," whispered Globe in her soft, hissing voice, the voice of a mother soothing her son with words not yet understood.
A sudden anger flared inside Ilien. How could this mischievous, little con
jured ball of light ever understand what he was going through? He was doing what he had to do. If the choices were his to make, he'd make them as he saw fit. He didn't seek out the NiDemon. The Swan did, and if Ilien had to learn Nihilic to save his father, then that's what he would do.
All at once Globe disappeared, as if she'd heard his inner outburst. Ilien cried out and clasped his empty hands together. "I'm sorry," he said, hanging his head.
A wriggle from his back pocket lifted his spirits. He pulled forth his pencil.
"Nice going," it said.
Ilien buried his head in his hands, overwhelmed and exhausted. Through his feelings of guilt and dread a small flicker of comfort remained, like the faint light of Globe now gone. At least he would soon see his mother, and make sure she was safe. At that he passed into an uneasy sleep as Pedustil carried him quickly toward home.
Only moments later, it seemed to Ilien, the wind shifted velocity. He roused himself and knuckled the sleep from his eyes, discovering his neck was stiff and sore. He peered forward. The land below was still a mask of plodding shadows. They were flying slower now. He glanced back, and there, not far away, a patchwork of tiny yellow lights twinkled below.
"Where are we?" he called to Pedustil.
"We're approaching Southford. Those lights you see are the watch fires of the kingdom of Evernden. It's not far now. Another fifteen minutes and we should be on the ground."
Fifteen minutes?
"You fell asleep," shouted Pedustil. "We've been aloft for two hours. Hold on!"
The Gorgul ducked his head and the rest of him followed, plummeting downward at an alarming rate. Ilien held on to the spike in front of him and closed his eyes against the sickening plunge. The thoughts seemed to drain from his mind and his stomach jumped into his chest. He hunkered down against Pedustil's scaly back and prayed the free fall would end. And it did. His head began to clear. His stomach settled back to its rightful place, and he opened his eyes.
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