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just another bit of history, and it couldn’t be like that now, could it?
Miranda weighed her son’s words silently. Outside, a bird called and she glanced out to see that it was a beautiful morning on the island, and the sun was burning off the predawn mist.
“You’re right. We need men on our side who understand what is at risk. I’ll send a message to Lord Erik.” She thought for a moment, then said, “But I will not give up on Lord James. I think, though, I’ll need an intermediary.”
“Who?”
“Jim Dasher, his grandson. He’s apparently more in touch with what it is we’re facing, since he found those creatures of the Void. I will see him soon, and ask him to intercede with the Duke of Rillanon.”
“When are you going to see him?”
“This afternoon,” said Miranda, “which is in about an hour given how far east of here the Peaks of the Quor are.”
“I’ll be interested in what you find there.”
Miranda stood and went to her son’s side. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, “I know you chafe at being in charge here, and I’ve stolen Lettie from you for a while, so you don’t even have the assistant I promised you. But if she’s going to take over for you someday, I need her to be aware of every significant issue facing the Conclave.”
“Take over for me?”
“You don’t think I’m not aware of how difficult it is for you to be a leader, Caleb? You’ve always been a loner, in so many ways. I don’t know if not being a magician caused it, or if you would have been this way in any event. I was thrilled when you found Marie and brought her and the boys here, for I despaired that you would ever find a mate—I wouldn’t have minded some grandchildren who were really yours, because Magnus certainly hasn’t shown any signs of giving me any.”
Caleb laughed, genuinely touched by his mother’s concern. “I’m a man full grown, as they say in Yabon, Mother. I’ve made many choices beyond those set for me by you and Father.
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I wouldn’t be your son if I hadn’t come to the same conclusions you had: we serve because we must.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Caleb added, “And I wouldn’t worry about Magnus. He has been in love . . . once.”
She nodded. Magnus’s very young foray into romance had broken his heart, and he had retreated from matters of intimacy, save with his family. She worried as mothers do, but she often reminded herself that she hadn’t married and started a family until well past two hundred years of age. “Now, I must go. I’m anxious to meet these Quor. I am amazed that there is no mention of them anywhere in your father’s library. Between what he inherited from your grandfather and what he’s added since then . . .” She took a slow, deep breath. “It’s strange.”
“Before you go, regarding the coming war, what of Kesh and the other Kingdoms?”
“The Eastern Kingdoms are of little matter; we have some allies, but they are low on resources. Kesh feels a debt since we saved the Empire from Varen. She’ll answer the call. But what I fear most is what will happen when I ask for the next favor.”
“Refugees?”
“Yes. There are going to be millions of them. Potentially more than the entire population of Kesh and the Kingdom combined. No ruler is going to welcome that many aliens with loyalties to other rulers over their borders. No, we need another solution.”
“Wynet?”
“The plains above the great escarpment would be perfect, if your father hadn’t already settled the Saaur survivors up there.
We’ve remained cordial with them all these years largely by ignoring one another. If we put a hundred thousand Tsurani warriors next to them, they might become irritable.”
“There are a lot of islands to the west.”
Miranda said, “The Sunsets and the archipelagos beyond?
Fine if you care to live in a hut and fish for all your meals, but if you want to revive a displaced society . . .” She sighed. “What we need is an empty world.”
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“Is there one?”
“Your father would know,” she said with scantly hidden bitterness.
Caleb kept silent. His parents loved each other deeply, but as with many married couples each had qualities that annoyed the other. For his father, Caleb knew it was Miranda’s insistence on having her own plans and ideas irrespective of what the consensus of the Conclave was; she even had agents of her own who were not part of his father’s larger organization. As for his mother, Caleb knew that she envied, perhaps even resented, Pug’s vast knowledge of worlds beyond Midkemia. For all her powers, Kelewan and the Hall were the only two realms beyond Midkemia that she had explored, and she would never have experienced either of them had it not been for Pug.
“I’ll be leaving for the Sun Elves’ enclave in a little while.
Go and get a bite to eat and then come back.”
Caleb nodded and yawned. “Sorry. Been up since before dawn.”
She smiled. She knew well that Caleb was always up well before dawn. She watched her son depart and then sat back, looking at the communications on the desk in front of her. She found it almost impossible to concentrate.
She missed her husband more than she could ever have imagined before this mad venture into the Dasati realm had begun. They had been separated before, but they had always been confident that they would see each other again. This time she was not so certain. Her husband had a secret, something she had been aware of since meeting him during the war against the Emerald Queen’s army. There was something he refused to talk about, something he wouldn’t even hint at, but she knew him well, and from time to time she would catch him looking at his sons in a certain way or, when he didn’t realize she noticed, her. It was as if he were trying to burn their features into his memory, as if he feared each time he left he’d never see them again.
She pushed herself away from the desk. She couldn’t continue sitting there. She knew Caleb would understand when he returned and found her gone. Closing her eyes for a second, she 2 5 8
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recalled exactly where in the Sun Elves’ compound she wished to be, then willed herself there.
Tomas turned as she appeared. “Miranda! I thought you might not be coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said with a brave smile. Whatever trepidation she might feel about her husband’s absence, she would never show anyone her concern. Firstly, because she hated showing weakness, and secondly because the Conclave required the confidence of its allies, and these Sun Elves were still too suspicious of humans to be counted allies yet. So she knew her continued participation here was needed to build that necessary trust.
Castdanur nodded to her in greeting, and his manner seemed genuinely warm. She did not have a strong sense of this place prior to her first visit with Tomas, but she could feel that somehow things had changed. The old leader of the Sun Elves was almost aglow with happiness. “Lady Miranda—” he began.
“Just Miranda, please.”
“Miranda,” he started over. “My people are in your debt.
Lord Tomas told us of your part in destroying the Void beings’
encampment. We have been plagued by them on and off for years and they have cost us dearly.”
Miranda shot a glance at Tomas, whose subtle expression suggested that some things were best left unsaid, such as why the Sun Elves had not petitioned for help from the other elven people when the Dread had first appeared. Debates over independence, stubbornness, and foolhardy choices would be put off for a more relaxed, contemplative time. Right now there was a more pressing concern. “It was my pleasure,” she said. “Tomas actually rid us of them, I merely obliterated the residue of their trespass.”
“It was necessary,” said Tomas. “Had you not, it might have been easier for them to return. Now I think we need only concern ourselves with the
original weakness in the fabric of our world that let them slip through in the first place.”
She bit her tongue, trying not to blurt out that the one person best able to discover that leak in the barriers between the real 2 5 9
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universe and the Void was on another world, in another plane of reality! Instead, she nodded, and said, “With Castdanur’s permission, I’ll have some of our most gifted magicians work with your spellweavers, Tomas, on that problem.”
Tomas nodded. To Castdanur, he said, “We are ready.”
“Then follow me, please,” said the old elf. He motioned for two other elves to accompany them.
Tomas said, “I don’t think we need an escort, Castdanur.”
The old elf inclined his head in acquiescence, and waved the two away. As they left the compound, Miranda looked around and saw that the new arrivals were already hard at work rebuilding portions of the community that had been neglected. “It looks as if the newcomers are making themselves right at home.”
“They are our brothers and sisters. They return what was lost to us, and you have rid us of the plague that had weakened us. Before I depart on my journey beyond, I will see Baranor reborn.”
“That is a good thing,” Miranda said. Then she realized something was different. “Where are Kaspar and his men?”
“With the return of our brethren, and because of their good works on our behalf, we judged it safe to release them. Kaspar and the one you call Jim Dasher have proven to be elf-friends indeed.” To Tomas he said, “I returned to Jim Dasher the talis-man given to him in Elvandar, and to Kaspar of Olasko, I gave another. Both are welcome here whenever they care to return.”
Miranda sighed. “Ah, I need to speak with Jim Dasher.”
“By evening tide, they will be at sea.”
Tomas said, “We can search for them when we’re finished here.”
“No need,” said Miranda as they began trudging up a long trail that circled around the stronghold and wended its way high into the mountains. “I can catch up with Dasher in Roldem.”
They walked quickly up the pathway and Miranda realized after half an hour that she was with two exceptionally good hik-ers, an elf and a being with the powers of a Dragon Lord. In fact, Tomas despite his heavy armor, appeared to be lingering to allow Castdanur and Miranda to keep up with him. Feeling annoyed at her fatigue, Miranda employed a little magic to make herself 2 6 0
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light on her feet, a small spell of levitation so that it felt as if she were strolling along rather than trudging uphill.
For the better part of two hours they hiked an unremarkable trail until they came to a large meadow. Castdanur stopped and said, “Here we enter the true realm of the Quor.”
Tomas said, “I remember.” Miranda shot him a sidelong glance. and he went on, “There are times when Ashen-Shugar’s memories come to me unbidden; things that I did not know until something causes me to remember.” He stood silently for a long moment, fists on his hips, apparently taking in sensations, identifying feelings. At last he said, “I remember . . .”
Ashen-Shugar sped across the skies, and to those who had been held in thrall, he declared, “Do now as you will, for you are a free people!”
Those known as elves— edhel or “the people” in their own language—bowed their heads as one in respect to their former ruler. The others of the Dragon Host had risen against the new gods and as the Chaos Wars raged across the heavens, this one Valheru, the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, had taken their destiny and placed it in their own hands.
Other races were also freed, and new races were arriving through great tears in the fabric of space and time. “A great struggle is approaching,” Ashen-Shugar shouted, and by the magic of the Valheru, all those below heard his words. “Take this world and make it your own!”
The people chose various different paths. Those who followed the light of reason, those given the guardianship of lore and wisdom—the eldar—led their followers to a sylvan glade and began fashioning a wondrous home, becoming one with the woodlands that would one day be Elvandar. Those who followed and served were called the Elves of Light, the eledhel, and from their ranks rose wise rulers, the first kings and queens.
Others chose to emulate the thirst for power of the Dragon Host, those who wished to rise to the power of the Valheru.
Those seekers of darkness were known as the Elves of Darkness, the moredhel.
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without their masters, like domesticated dogs turned loose in the wild, running in packs so fearsome that even the wolves grew to fear them. They were called the Mad Elves, or glamredhel.
Others dispersed, traveling across land and sea, living with other races, humans and dwarves, some with goblins and trolls.
They forgot their very nature and became as aliens. These were the Elves from Across the Sea, the ocedhel.
And high in the Peaks of the Quor, Ashen-Shugar confronted the beings so profoundly ensconced in the heart of Midkemia that even the Valheru would not trouble them. For among these peaks, in an isolated enclave, lived a race which was connected to the very fabric of every life on this world. A harmless, gentle race which lived in a way unfathomable to even the most powerful of Valheru or the wisest of the eledhel. Their purpose was incomprehensible and their nature equally confounding, yet even the most violent of the Dragon Host could sense within themselves some profound meaning. It was not something that could be explained; it was something that could only be understood intuitively.
And there were guardians, sun-browned elves who hunted and lived below the Peaks of the Quor, whose only task was to keep this extraordinary place well and untroubled. The Valheru dubbed them “Guardian Elves,” or tirithedhel in their tongue.
They called themselves the anoredhel, or Elves of the Sun.
To them Ashen-Sugar said, “You are now a free people, but you are held to your charge, for should any harm befall the Quor, so perishes the world.” And with that he flew away . . .
Tomas blinked. “I remember.”
“Remember what?” asked Miranda.
He shook his head. “Many things. We should continue.”
Castdanur indicated the direction he intended to lead them, then turned and walked away across the meadow. At the far edge he entered a narrow pathway. Tomas followed, with Miranda taking up the rear; but when she stepped onto the trail, she faltered then stopped. Everything had changed. The very nature of the air was different. Colors were more vivid, sounds had a new 2 6 2
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harmony to them, and tantalizing hints of exotic fragrances were carried on a breeze that caressed her cheek like a lover. Miranda found herself repressing a shudder of pleasure, for it was as if every good thing imaginable were happening at the same moment.
Miranda had traveled to many places, not as many as her husband, but still enough that she was not easily astonished, but this was a place to bring the most jaded traveler to his knees in wonder. She felt tears welling up at the sheer beauty of it all. She could not put a name to what she beheld, for to the casual observer nothing would look remarkable compared to the mountainside just a few paces below, yet there was something amazing here. She could see life! She could see energies that coursed through the very fabric of every living thing before her. The trees glowed with a soft illumination and each bird was a sparkling, darting presence above. The very insects flitting through the air were tiny gems of color, green, blue, golden, moving here and there. A column of ants wending its way up the side of a tree to gather sap from a chip in the bark were a line of diamonds moving up, emeralds moving down.
“What is happening?” she asked softly.
“This is the Quor,” said Tomas. “Come.”
She took a deep breath, gathered her wits, and followed as the old elf and human-turned–Dragon Lord continued up the pathway. Tomas was
like a mote of sun, blinding to look at if her eyes lingered too long upon him. There was a power in him Miranda could barely stand to behold, and Castdanur was like a warm old fire, the embers beginning to fade, but still giving warmth to any nearby.
As they approached a grove in a deep vale, Tomas said,
“The Quor appeared at the advent of the Chaos Wars, or rather Ashen-Shugar has no memory of their existence before then. The War was protracted . . . I have no idea whether it lasted days, weeks, decades, or epochs. The very nature of existence changed; and by the time the Valheru became aware of the Quor, they realized instantly that there was something here not even they dared to question.”
Miranda stopped at the edge of the grove.
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Giant trees, alien and graceful, with leaves that sang in the breeze and soft hues that had no place on this world rose upward like dancers caught in an instant of time as they leaped into the air. Crystal shards floated among the branches, refracting light in a rainbow spectrum. The air bore hints of spices and floral notes, tantalizingly familiar suggestions of some alien aroma.
And everywhere there was music, odd harmonies played on strange and wonderful instruments, heartbreakingly beautiful, but so faint as to linger at the edge of perception, a suggestion of tone and resonance hidden behind the rustling of leaves, the splash of falling water, the soft tread of feet upon the soil.
“What is this place?” Miranda whispered, as if afraid that to speak loudly might break some incredible enchantment.
“The realm of the Quor,” answered Castdanur.
“Here resides one of the true wonders of our world,” said Tomas. He pointed up the hill and Miranda saw figures slowly approaching. They were green in color, human in shape, but with elongated heads without hair, their jaws pointed. Their ears looked like ridged crescents and they walked in a loose-jointed fashion on long, narrow feet. Each wore a tunic to the mid-thigh, fashioned from some brown material, caught in at the waist by a leather belt.
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