"To come flying in on the back of"— he looked at the Gorgul —"of God knows what, and interrupt me when I had the situation well under control, and put yourself in harm's way to pull the oldest trick in the book on a spirit creature as powerful as a Nephalim, well, it's just unimaginable!"
Pedustil's gill flaps opened, but no steam came out.
"Unimaginable," repeated Gallund, his face softening. "I'm just glad I didn't stop you."
Gallund broke into a wide smile. "Some appearances are indeed not what they seem," he said. "You are not the boy I left just a few weeks ago. Much has happened that I probably don't want to know about."
The wizard bent his gaze on Pedustil. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you, Pedustil, for bringing my boy at the peril of your life."
Pedustil bowed his great head. "You owe me no thanks, Gallund. I did little that I promised you."
"Promised you?" said Ilien. "You two know each other?"
The flapping of wings turned all eyes skyward. The Swan hurtled down toward them. She landed in a rush, feather flying everywhere.
"Ilien!" she cried. "Gallund!" she screeched. She ran as fast as her webbed feet would take her across the uneven ground. She stopped, breathless, before them.
"Penelope," said Gallund. "I'm glad to see that you could make it."
The Swan looked crossly at the wizard. "It's no comfort to see that your ordeal hasn't changed you! This is no time for jokes!" She looked nervously around. "Is everyone okay? Are we safe?"
"The Nephalim is dead," said Ilien. "It's all over."
"Over?" said the Swan, stepping forward. "It's far from over." She pinned Gallund with a piercing glance. "What have you been filling his head with? We both know that things have just begun."
Gallund reached into his pocket. He fished about for a moment before pulling out a handful of broken peanuts. He popped one into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.
"You are quite right, my dear," he said. He held out his hand. "Nut?"
The Swan shook her head in exasperation. "What do we do now? Where are we to go? The Witch Queen is dead. The Crossing is closed. But that won't appease the Nomadin for long. They will learn of the boy's part in all this. They will realize who he is."
Ilien happiness melted at the mention of the Nomadin. "They have my mother," he said. "I am through running from the Nomadin. I will not let them hurt her."
"You are not ready to face the combined might of the Nomadin, Ilien," said Gallund. "None of us are."
The Swan ruffled her feathers. "We cannot confront them alone. We must seek help." She eyed Gallund. "It is time to bring Ilien to the wizardesses."
Ilien's heart leapt. "We're going to see Gilindilin?"
"It's time the wizardesses played their hand," said the Swan. "They have been absent from Nadae long enough."
"Absent? Where are they?" asked Ilien.
Gallund retrieved his leather pouch from the ground. "They are not on this world. They crossed to another long ago."
"The Crossing from my vision!" said Ilien. "The Crossing you were seeking! It leads to the wizardesses."
"Yes," replied Gallund. "I was taking the map to them. We must all leave Nadae now."
"I won't abandon my mother," warned Ilien. "I won't leave her here to suffer at the hands of the Nomadin."
Gallund opened his pouch and checked its contents. Satisfied, he said, "We will not abandon her. We will go get help."
"It is the only way, Ilien," said the Swan.
Ilien shook his head. "The two of you can seek out the wizardesses. I'm staying here to find my mother."
The Swan stepped toward him, but Ilien raised his hand. "I know who I am, now. The Nomadin will regret the day they stole her in the night."
"Yes, they will," said the Swan, "but not if you attempt to rescue her alone. You may know who you are, but your powers are still insufficient. You need the training that only the wizardesses can give you. They are masters of the Breaching Arts. We need their help."
Ilien looked first at Pedustil, then at Gallund. "The Breaching Arts were part of my vision. The Nephalim spoke of them."
"The Breaching Arts are only one of many skills lost to the Nomadin since the naming of the NiDemon," said Gallund.
"We will return to rescue your mother," said the Swan. "I promise you."
Ilien considered their words in silence.
"You must leave Nadae," said the Swan. "You must be trained. There is more to worry about than the Nomadin. I know what you brought back from beyond death's door. You will need all your powers if you are to defeat the Evil in the end."
"Can we take Windy?" asked Ilien. "She will want to see her mother."
The Swan bowed her head. "I will get her, if you'd like."
Ilien looked at the trees all around as if seeing them for the very last time. "I'll go with you to the wizardesses," he said, "but there's something I must do first." He turned to Pedustil. "Will you fly me back home? There's something I need to get."
Chapter XIX
Peaty's Demise
It was much easier the second time around for Ilien to steer Pedustil through the night to a spot on the map of the world no bigger than a pin prick. They didn't try to stay hidden, either. They landed beside Ilien's house, with its battered fence and broken window casement, and Ilien dropped lightly to the ground.
"I won't be long," he said to Pedustil, then melted into the shadows.
Soon, he stood outside Peaty's house. The Wilsons lived in a grand, two-story brick residence. Peaty's father owned several taverns in town and his wealth was evident. Cheery light spilled from the windows on the first floor, illuminating the well-manicured lawn and thick trimmed hedges that bordered the house. The second story windows glowed with faint candlelight.
Ilien would have felt envious of the life Peaty led: a big, expensive house, steak and roast duck most every night, a horse of his own. But not all appearances were as they seemed.
Ilien heard an angry shout. A shrill, frightened cry followed.
Inside, Peaty Wilson was getting the beating of his life.
The cries intensified. The shouts grew louder. A crash from upstairs prompted Ilien to step forward combatively. He jumped onto the stoop before the door, memories of the violent conflicts he'd recently witnessed spinning through his mind. His fists clenched in outrage, but he stopped. This was someone's house, not the cellars of Asheverry castle. He stood in the gloom outside the front door, unsure of what to do.
A mournful wail sounded. Ilien heard Peaty pleading within.
"No, Daddy! I won't do it again. I'll be good. I promise I'll be good."
A sharp smack brought another plaintive cry, and sent shivers through Ilien. He strode forward and rang the bell. The house fell silent.
Ilien rang the bell again, then pounded on the door. The second story lights went out. Footsteps approached.
"Who is it?" came a woman's voice.
"It's Ilien Woodhill. Let me in." He had intended to shout, but his voice sounded strained and weak.
"Go home, young man," commanded a stern, male voice. It was Peaty's father. "Go home right now."
"Or what?" challenged Ilien, his anger forging into a sudden resolve. "You'll tell my mother?"
Mister Wilson stomped to the door. It flew wide, and glaring light spilled upon Ilien. "Why you little—. Get home before I give you the beating your mother's been afraid to give you!"
An inner power flared within him, and Ilien looked the man in the eye. Mister Wilson was small like his son, with the same impish features and leering eyes. Ilien's first instinct was to draw the Fire rune and make him pay for his trespasses. But he said, "You beat your son like your father beat you."
Ilien didn't know where the words came from. They had spilled from his mouth like an unsummoned spell. Suddenly, a vision of Peaty's father as a child flashed before his eyes. An angry old man was whipping him with a length of rope, shouting obscenities at him in drunken rage.
Peaty's father stepped back
at Ilien's rebuke. Behind him, a slender woman with greying hair and a bird-like nose held her hand to her mouth. She looked like a caged sparrow ready to fly.
Ilien walked through the doorway. The two adults retreated before him.
"I have come to see your son," said Ilien. The rage inside him had quieted, replaced by a quiet determination. As he looked at Peaty's parents, an unwholesome feeling stole over him. Behind them, a blackness darker than their shadows lingered. A chill spread through Ilien, the same chill he had experienced when he had faced the nothingness of the Evil.
"Get out of my house!" bellowed Peaty's father. "Go back where you belong, you little beggar!"
Ilien strode forward. "Go back yourself!" he commanded, raising his hand. "Flee this house and leave these people alone!"
The blackness behind them contracted and shivered. Peaty's mother swooned, and her husband rushed to catch her.
"You are a shadow of a shadow, nothing more!" cried Ilien. "I have bested your master. You will not prevail against me. Now leave!"
The house shook as if a strong wind assailed it. Peaty screamed upstairs. The blackness that shadowed his parents quavered then fled. It raced across the wall and out the open door into the night.
A veil lifted from Mister Wilson's eyes, and he seemed to see Ilien for the first time. He knelt beside his wife, bowed his head and fell speechless.
Ilien made his way upstairs. He followed Peaty's whimpering cries and came to his room. The door was shut, and he threw it wide. It lit instantly with Ilien's magic.
Peaty cowered on his bed in his underwear on the far side of the room. His bedroom was large, far larger than Ilien's, with stenciled walls and shiny brass furnishings. An intricate mobile of planets and stars hung suspended above the quivering boy. When Peaty saw Ilien, he sat up straight and tried his best to compose himself.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, peering past Ilien for signs of his parents.
Peaty's left eye was red and swollen. An angry welt ran across his chest and down his stomach. He yanked the covers up to conceal it.
"I've come for what is mine," said Ilien. "Where is my pencil?"
Peaty wavered, then pointed to his night stand against the wall. "Take it," he said, lifting his chin defiantly. "It's been nothing but trouble."
Ilien moved to the night stand, scattering the neatly arranged nicknacks that adorned it.
"It's in the top drawer," said Peaty.
Ilien yanked open the drawer. He fished beneath the folded underwear within and found what he'd came for.
His wand lay silent and lifeless, just another pencil to anyone else's eyes. He inspected it in the all-pervasive light of his Nihilic spell.
"I'm not going back in your pocket ever again," it said. "Do you hear me?"
Ilien smiled and clutched it to his chest.
"Get out of here," said Peaty, his anxious eyes still on the doorway. "Now!"
Pity overcame Ilien, and he approached his once arch nemesis with a saddened gaze. "You no longer have to fear him," he said. "He will never hurt you again."
Peaty pulled his blankets up higher, his face twisted with defiance. "Get out of here," he said.
And he began to cry.
Ilien watched him for a moment, and his heart went out for the little boy who had once terrified him every day after school. He had just been a victim of the same treatment his own father had received, the same treatment that everyone seemed to receive. Was it anyone's fault that they acted as they did? Or was there an Evil in the world that sought to make everyone its slave?
Ilien knew then that the Swan was right. He had to seek out the wizardesses. If he was to truly set anything right, he needed their help.
"Listen to me, Peter Wilson," he said. "Your father and mother will love you from this day forward. They will never hurt you again. And you will change, too. You will no longer bully anyone weaker than you. You will stand up for those who need help. You will change, Peaty Wilson, or I will come back here to see that you do."
Peaty shivered under his covers.
Ilien closed the door behind him as he left.
Downstairs, Peaty's parents sat silently on the couch. Ilien ignored them and exited the way he had come in. Much would change in the Wilson household from this night forward.
"You're different," piped his pencil as Ilien made his way back to his house in the dark. "You've grown more powerful without me, I can sense it. If you didn't need me, then why did you come back for me?"
Ilien stopped in the shadows beside the road. He brought his pencil close. "I never should have left you in the first place. I'm sorry for that. If I've changed, it's because I didn't have you by my side. It's because I came to realize how important you are to me."
"Will you leave me again?"
"Never," said Ilien.
The pencil was silent for a moment. It wriggled in his hand, then asked, "But what can I ever do for you that you can't already do for yourself? You don't need me anymore."
"The best friends are those you want around, not those you need," answered Ilien. "Besides, I think I may need you more than I ever have. I'm leaving Nadae for a while. We're going to see the wizardesses. Their training will help me rescue my mother, and you know how good I am at studying."
The pencil snorted with laughter. "Just like old times, then."
"Just like old times," said Ilien.
"Then may I suggest we take along another old friend," said the pencil.
Ilien frowned in confusion, then jumped back as Globe sprang to life before him. The magical ball of light danced around him, casting ghostly shadows across the deserted dirt road.
"She's been keeping me company while you were gone," said the pencil. "Between us, we got Peaty Wilson in more trouble at school than I ever got you in by myself."
Ilien laughed aloud. With his wand in hand, and Globe floating above his head like a halo, he strode along the road to his house, happier than he'd been in a very long time.
Chapter XX
Farewells
The moon rode high in the sky, lighting the land below in a dreamy glow. Their flight back took them past the bright lights of Evernden with its burning watch fires, over the clawed hands of the Midland Mountains, and finally above Ledge Hall.
Ilien made Pedustil circle the mountainous castle twice. He was surprised to find that he recognized it at all. It looked like any other dark, forested hill in the night. But as they swooped low by its craggy walls, Ilien saw the golden front gates glittering in the moonlight.
"What did you do to him?" asked the Gorgul. "How did you get Bulcrist to return to Ledge Hall without a fight?"
Ilien sat tall on Pedustil's back, and looked up at the spying moon. "I placed a rune upon him, and told him that if he ever set foot outside again, he would die."
"What rune can do that?" asked Pedustil.
Ilien felt the cold night air blow through his long hair, and he smiled. "None that I know of."
The twinkling lights of Asheverry came into view next, and Ilien's thoughts turned to Thessien. He wondered where the Eastland prince could be. He last saw him at Greattower, preparing to return home. A pang of sadness sprang up within him. Some homecoming he would have.
As the glow of the great, fortressed city faded in the distance, Ilien settled back and dozed in the hollow of Pedustil's back. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was of Windy.
"Rise and shine!" chirped his pencil. "We're nearly there, or so your Gorgul tells me."
Ilien opened his eyes. The morning sun glared over the horizon in the east. Below, flat fields of tilled earth raced by. Not far away, the beginnings of the Damp Oaks lay like a plush, green carpet on the land. Pedustil flew low and fast. Ilien found that he was still clinging to the small scaled horn on the Gorgul's back. He released it and rubbed at his sore hands.
"I've been doing some thinking," said his pencil. "Since you don't really need me to help you with magic anymore, perhaps you could use me as I
am. You know, as a pencil. I could help you write your memoirs."
"Over there!" cried Pedustil above the wind. "Do you see it? It's the campsite. We're almost there."
A thin line of smoke rose from the forest in the distance and pooled into a thin white blanket above the treetops. Pedustil accelerated in anticipation of breakfast, and they soon landed in a nearby clearing.
Ilien dropped to the ground and ran to find Windy. He felt an overwhelming desire to see her, to make sure she was safe.
Through the trees, he saw her.
"Ilien!" she cried, and ran to meet him. Behind her, the Swan rose to her feet. Gallund sat beside her, throwing peanut shells into the fire.
Ilien and Windy held each other for a moment, a mutual embrace that no longer embarrassed them.
"She brought you," said Ilien.
"She brought someone else, too," said Windy.
Ilien looked up in surprise as Anselm approached.
"No, not me," stated the Giant. "I hoofed it, as usual."
The Giant stepped aside. Behind him stood Thessien.
"Thessien!" cried Ilien. "Thessien, it's you!"
The rangy Eastlander smiled, and nodded. He wore the same bedraggled clothes he'd worn when Ilien first saw him, standing outside the front gate to his house under the first stars of early evening so many weeks ago. His weather-beaten face bore a short beard, and the lines on his forehead had deepened since then, but his eyes were still piercing as they beheld Ilien.
"It's good to see you, my boy."
Ilien would have rushed to hug him as he'd done so often in the past, but something stayed him. Thessien looked at him differently now. Gone was the amused expression Ilien so often received from the soldier. Gone was the soldier, too. Ilien stood before the King.
"My Lord," said Ilien, bowing.
"Rise, Ilien. It is I who should be bowing to you, and to Princess Windy. You have saved my kingdom. I owe you both a great debt."
Ilien didn't know what to say. His pencil wriggled in his hand, but it, too, was silent.
"We played our part willingly, my Lord," said Windy, the princess in her returning. "Just as many others have."
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