Seth put his arm around her, closed his eyes. Before he drifted away to sleep he created a wall of thought around them to ensure the night would not be disturbed again.
Vilmos ran across a dusty plain without knowing how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was running up the stairs of the inn. Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, catching glimpses of the inn and its surrounding structures. It seemed no one followed.
He didn’t know where he could go. He didn’t know anything about this area or Under-Earth. He could run, but to where he did not know. He did know that he must find Xith.
Find the shaman, run, that’s what Edward told him—and he was running. He was running as fast as his legs could carry him, faster than he had ever run before.
There was a small rise behind the inn. He was running up it when he slipped, falling backward, twisting. He stood to find he was staring at the inn instead of up the hill. The world was still spinning so he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t spinning with it.
He was about to turn back up the hill when his thoughts registered what he saw—horses, strange, abnormally large, but horses just the same. He had never seen such a wondrous sight, then he wondered if he could get to the horses before the hunter beasts found him.
Before he made a decision his feet were running toward the three black horses tethered at the back of the inn. The first horse screamed and reared up to the limit of its tether when he approached.
He backed away, keeping a wary distance, approaching a different horse, one that did not shy away.
Perhaps it was fear or the rush of adrenaline, but he had ridden for nearly an hour before he realized that he had escaped—or so it seemed. He also realized that he had never been on a horse before without someone alongside him to help him along. He felt suddenly alone and confused. Where was he riding to? Was there anywhere he could go that would be safe? Where was Xith?
He reigned in the horse. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. It was in that moment, when all the world seemed to echo the thump-thump-thump in his ears, that he could feel the wildness of the land. It was speaking to him, calling out, telling him to go.
Driven by the voice, Vilmos rode. It wasn’t until much later after he calmed and his heart stopped pounding in his ears that he started to wonder why the hunter beasts never followed him. Images of the gnarl-faced beasts still chilled his thoughts. He wondered what had become of Edward, momentarily refusing to accept that Edward might be dead.
He thought maybe Edward killed the strange beasts and that was why they did not chase him. Yet the look on Edward’s face as he fell was unmistakable—it was death that Vilmos had seen in those eyes. He also wondered if maybe the bastards followed him and were waiting for him to rest, and then they would pounce.
The horse of the beastmen was strangely resolute and powerful, galloping at speeds that amazed him. The animal seemed to be driven by the desires of its rider and was able to sustain high speeds for long periods without fatigue. If his sixth sense was urging the animal on, it was also guiding the animal along the trail back to a place he knew well. Soon he found himself at the magical gate he and Xith had used what seemed so long ago, his mind spinning so rapidly that he opened and triggered the gate without a second thought.
It could have been minutes, hours or days later that he found himself near the Trollbridge, the steady steed beneath him. The world faded to black until he found himself near a cave on an open valley floor. It was the cave where he and Xith had spent the night what seemed ages ago. Here he stopped. Both to rest the horse and to search the cave for signs—any sign that Xith had been there recently. He found nothing, only emptiness. The next day he continued on, driven on.
He soon perceived other agonies: hunger, thirst and weariness. He chanced on a small brook, the same brook where he and Xith had stopped many weeks previous, drinking from its cool clear waters until his thirst was quenched and his belly full. Seeing no signs of anyone near, he sat along the edge of the water and removed his shoes, bathing his sore feet in the cool, soothing waters.
Hours later as the sun sank low on the horizon, he was on the opposite side of a valley. A sudden peace swept over him as he made the long climb from the valley floor out onto a rocky precipice. He felt as if he had come home, and indeed he had.
Breathing deeply, he looked back across the valley, amazed at how much ground he had covered. It would have taken several days to cross the valley on foot.
The strange, powerful horse of the beastmen showed its first signs of fatigue now, and he was utterly exhausted as well. He let the horse cool down for a time, stroking its long, firm neck and mane.
Neither was able to stop for too long though, the compulsion that led him on seemed to flow to the horse and both were enthralled by it. He looked to the forest then, and to the trail that led into it and through it. He knew that on the other side of the forest lay the thing that pulled him on. He had to know, needed to know, what had happened there.
He rode into the forest, low branches and thick growth along the sides of the trail eventually causing him to reconsider. He cursed low under his breath as he dismounted, holding a grudge against the forest for forcing him to walk when he was so weary.
He led the horse then, walking along the tangled trail that was becoming increasingly treacherous in the ever-diminishing light. The only thing that kept him moving was the thought of his home just ahead somewhere. His face and hands were scratched from the branches that caught his skin, yet this was no more a distraction than the mosquitoes that bit at his hands and face.
The march along the now indiscernible trail seemed without end. But he was determined.
“Adrina?”
“Yes, it’s me. Open the door.”
“Well?”
“Well, what? Why is the door locked?”
Emel looked to Myrial. Myrial looked to Emel.
Adrina sat next to them. “I didn’t, I mean I couldn’t. First it was Father Jacob and then—”
“What do you mean you didn’t—couldn’t? We’ve been waiting for hours.” Emel balled his hands into fists. “Damn your foolishness, I have so much to do. Let me go do it!”
Adrina calmed Emel by putting her hand on his. “After Father Jacob visited the elves, there was no answer at the door. I knocked and knocked. Seth may be angry with me.”
Emel stood. “It’s time to sleep then. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“I don’t know,” said Adrina. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I must speak with Seth now. Before he does something.”
“What do you mean?” asked Myrial.
“It was something he said, something about showing the council his world. He said it; Galan got really upset. I’ve been trying to understand and I think I do now.” Myrial and Emel sat across from Adrina, their eyes telling her to go on. She told them of the image Galan had shown her—the palace with the beautiful, spiral towers reaching up into the heavens. “She was so tired afterward as if it drained all her strength. She went to sleep immediately, exhausted.”
“And you think Seth will—”
Adrina didn’t wait for Emel to finish. “Yes, I think Seth is planning something similar. Imagine how drained he’ll be after sharing an image with the entire council, but I think there’s more. I’ve never seen Galan so afraid. I think that that something more may kill him.”
“And the orb? The orb is connected somehow to all this?”
“I think the orb is some kind of key that unlocks hidden truths. Seth should be able to use it.”
“To unlock the truth about what is being hidden. He won’t need to—”
“Exactly, Myrial,” said Adrina, “Exactly.”
Emel held out the leather pouch containing the orb. “Then we’ll go together—now!”
“Together,” said Myrial standing.
Adrina took the pouch and led the way. They reached Seth and Galan’s door quickly and knocked several times, but there was no answer. Emel looked to A
drina and smiled. “Private entrance,” he said, “Is there a private entrance?”
Adrina’s eyes widened. She led them around through the back halls until they were in the private corridors designed for the royal family.
“This one,” said Adrina pointing to a barely visible outline in the wall. “You’ll have to nudge it. It hasn’t been used in some time.”
Emel pressed his weight against the door and it popped open. Adrina, Myrial and Emel hurried into the room. As Adrina came around the door, she called out, “Seth? Galan?” Her heart stopped when she saw them lying in bed together, arm in arm.
Adrina put a hand to her mouth. Somehow she had never pictured Seth and Galan as a couple. Were they truly? Had she misunderstood their relationship?
Not understanding, Emel didn’t know what to do. Should he do or say something? He didn’t know.
Myrial did. She took Adrina’s hand, pulling Emel behind her. Emel closed the door and the three walked off. “Tomorrow,” Myrial said, “in the morning. It’s late already.”
With one hand held out in front of him for safety, Vilmos charged through the thick undergrowth, pulling the hesitant horse behind him. He knew that ahead lay his home, and with its finding, warmth and safety. It wasn’t until a low branch appearing from out of the darkness nearly poked out his eye that he stopped; jaded, he slumped back against a nearby tree.
The world around him seemed a foreign place, not the place he had grown up in. He felt lost, completely lost, not knowing that where he stopped was just a few yards from the forest’s edge. Still, even if he had known, sleep would have come. He was utterly exhausted.
Morning came as a rush of frenzied thoughts. He awoke waving a stick wildly, thwarting the attack of unseen hands. Perspiration dripped from his brow and into his eyes, blurring his already sleep-filled vision. He saw shapes looming before him and continued to wield the stick bravely.
“Who is it?” He shouted as he tried to wipe sleep and sweat from his eyes. “Go away, leave me alone!” He didn’t know that he yelled into empty air and that his assailants were but images left over from a dream—a dream filled with dark images.
He shook his head from side to side, attempting to chase away the last of the night’s chill as well as the dark spirits.
His senses returning, he looked around for the horse. The horse was nowhere to be found. He was saddened by its disappearance, later thinking that it was just as well, for he couldn’t care for it or feed it. He couldn’t even feed himself. He was starving, or at least he thought he was.
Bright sunlight from a clearing ahead caught his attention. He went to the light, slowly at first, then running, amazed when he came abruptly to the forest’s edge. Across a grassy field stood the white brick house he remembered so fondly. Smoke rose from the chimney and everything seemed well.
Vilmos took off racing, wild thoughts spinning through his mind. He mounted the stairs, put his hand to the door, stopped. He didn’t know what to expect. What if his parents were lying on the floor, or what if they were there and nothing was wrong? What would he tell them? What questions would they ask? What questions would he answer?
Still considering these thoughts, he opened the door and went inside. He ran through the kitchen, into the pantry. The pantry was full of fresh fruits, vegetables and bread. He ate.
Moments later he found his room much as he left it. “Was it a dream?” he asked himself, saying the words aloud to break the silence.
He ran into his parent’s room. The bed was made, the room tidy, clean as his mother always left it.
A brief search revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing wrong was that no one was home, but he was prepared to wait. Maybe they had gone into town? Maybe his father had a meeting in Olex or Two Falls, and Lillath went with him? If so, they would return soon and everything would be as it was.
Hours passed. He waited. Hungry again, he went to the pantry a second time. Afterward he went to his room, plopped onto the bed, patting his full stomach. The house was warm. His bed, comfortable.
Content, he lay still, staring up at the ceiling. A short while later he propped a pillow against the wall, removed his shoes and leaned against the pillow. His thoughts swept him away to the past. Everything had seemed so real. He could see Xith’s face. He could see Edward and the hunter beasts. He could see Valam, Adrina, Seth and Galan.
A familiar place called him and so he went. He had not been there in what seemed ages. He stared down into the valley’s depths, out into the world—the valley that had its mirror in the realm of the real as well as the imagined. He felt so soothed by the vision that he followed the mighty eagle into the sky. Lazily he swooped and turned, unaware of the danger, unaware of the other lurking nearby.
“Galan?” called out Myrial, “The sun rises and still you sleep. You must be ready for council within the hour.”
Seth?
“He’s not here. You were alone when I arrived.”
Galan lurched up, moving so quickly out of bed that Myrial shivered—it wasn’t natural for anyone to move like that. “Don’t be frightened, it’s just me, Myrial. We must find Seth. I’m afraid for him. He’s preparing to do something—something…”
“I know,” said Myrial, “We’re worried for you.”
“You know? You can’t know.”
“Adrina was up all night pacing. She fell asleep a few hours ago. I’ll take you to her. I think she can help.”
No! Galan thrust out harder with her mind than she intended and she hadn’t meant to slap away Myrial’s hand either—it just happened.
Myrial was shivering uncontrollably. Her bones felt cold, her soul. “All this talk is frightening. I shouldn’t be in the middle of this, I’m nobody. I’m better with the floors and a broom than this. My mother always told me never to try to rise above your station. Look what I’ve done now. It’s—”
“You’ve done nothing.” Galan touched her hand to Myrial’s. The hand was cold. Galan could feel Myrial’s chill reaching to her almost immediately. “What does anyone know of class and rank? I would be the first to tell you that anything is possible—your dream, the thing that frightens you is possible. You can rise above—you don’t have to be frightened by what you have achieved. There is no devilry in it, you are not being punished, you did not bring bad luck.”
“I brought this on as surely as I broke a mirror—I should’ve broken a mirror. Why can’t I just keep to my own?”
“You are very brave, Myrial. Your heart is true and you deserve whatever it is you desire. You can’t wish something into existence any more than you can bring bad luck.”
You’re in my thoughts, aren’t you? whispered Myrial to herself.
Yes, I am. I know it doesn’t offend you as it does others. You have a gift, Myrial, you have a pure heart. Now, do we sit and cry or do you help me find Seth?
Myrial led Galan to the dressing partition. “First you have to look presentable for council. Then we’ll find Seth.”
“Everything has its order, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” admitted Myrial as she handed Galan the clothes she had prepared.
Chapter Seventeen:
The Final Truth
The council was gathered and in full readiness as Seth, Galan and Adrina arrived. This day there was no way Adrina would not be present, she felt she had earned the right to sit beside the two and so she did.
When Father Jacob arrived, the proceedings began. Seth was not in a civil mood. From the moment he entered the council until the very instant he left he planned to seize the council’s attention. A heavy burden of duty pulled down upon him—failure meant disgrace, a yoke around his neck that he shouldered silently.
He waited for the correct moment to seize the floor and when the time was right, he circled his voice around the room. What I am about to do may take you by surprise, but when I am finished I am confident you will have no more doubts concerning your obligations.
Chancellor Yi stood. “Elf Seth
, you are breaking protocol. We are to begin with a review of yesterday.”
Seth glared at the chancellor. “Your eyes betray you, chancellor. You have not slept well this past night and you are haunted by conscience. Tell King Andrew of your secret desire.”
Murmurs swept through the council. Several council members jumped to their feet. Chancellor Yi thumped his long staff against the floor. “Order!” he called out, “Order!” He turned to Seth. “No more outbursts or this proceeding will end, Elf Seth. I assure you.”
Seth ignored the chancellor. He used the momentary disquiet to focus and gather his will. He closed his eyes and began a silent prayer. A glowing light, soft and pure began to enshroud his body. The rhythm of his chant reached out to all, though few understood the words.
Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches: Omnibus Page 52