“Perhaps they can help us,” Alahim said, speaking for the first time. He wore a look that showed he had always known his family was not normal, but he had never heard of someone pretending to be anyone else’s father before.
“How so?” Tarthur wondered aloud.
“See if they have seen…you know.” Alahim’s wink was so obvious it looked like something was stuck in his eye.
“Very well,” Tarthur said, “We will see what they know. Has either of you lately seen the shade of a young man wandering this town?”
“If we tell you,” Arthur began cautiously, “you must promise to do something for us.”
“What?”
“You must leave the barn and let us say that we defeated the monster.”
“What?!” Tarthur was incredulous.
Merlin held up his hand. “It’s a small thing, really. And it would help us so much with the ladies. We’ll even agree to share them with you.”
“This is my son.” Tarthur pointed at Alahim.
“I thought he was a tad young,” Merlin said, “but if you say so we’ll share them with him too. There really is more than enough to go—”
“By that I mean that I am happily married,” Tarthur said, an edge to his voice.
Merlin turned to Derlin.
“There is no woman in history that compares to my Valena.”
. “Do you want the information or not?” Arthur said impatiently.
Tarthur thought for a moment, and then spoke. “Very well, we accept. Tell us what you know.”
“There has been such a ghost wandering the streets of Laia for the last few months,” Arthur said. “But he has not been seen in weeks, at least not by anyone that I know.”
“Can you tell us anything else?” Tarthur was less than pleased with the information.
Arthur and Merlin shook their heads.
Tarthur hid his disappointment. This was really a minor setback. “We shall leave this barn through the back. You may go and tell the townspeople whatever you wish.”
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and the smile returned to Merlin’s face. “Thank you, kind—“
“However,” Tarthur held up a hand to prevent either from leaving. “I will return. It may be tomorrow, it may be next week. And if I find this lie in place next time…” Tarthur’s sword whistled through the air and a lock of Arthur’s hair slowly floated to the ground. Arthur glanced at the lost lock in the straw of the barn floor, and he and Merlin slowly backed out the door, muttering something about there being too many heroes in the world.
***********************
Tarthur poked his sword into the fire, splitting a log at the base and sending up a shower of sparks, hundreds of miniscule fireflies careening through the blackness until they were smothered by the cold night air. He removed the searing blade and wiped the ashes away with the edge of his cloak. He felt the warmth of the blade in his fingers as it slid across the cool fabric.
The day was drawing to a close, and already some of the companions were turning in. Fientien was finishing up washing the dishes. He had taken to the job and no one else was about to complain. Lily and Alahim were already asleep, and Valena and Yvonne looked like they would follow as soon as Yvonne finished her cup of elven herb tea. Tarthur’s cup had stopped steaming and the smooth surface caught the eastern sunset. Tarthur hated letting such a fine beverage go to waste, but its effects were soothing, and he was in no mood to be relaxed. He would drink it cold once his turn at the watch was over.
Dalin crouched by himself at the side of the camp, staring blankly back the way that they had come, as if he could stare back into the past. When Dalin told his story, Tarthur’s heart went out to the elf king, imagining each time how he would feel if ‘Kitrina’ was replaced with ‘Yvonne.’ Yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to forgive Dalin for lying to them. Caught between sympathy and mistrust, Tarthur was unable to console his friend. He suspected that the others harbored similar feelings and thus was not surprised at Dalin’s solitude.
Zelin’s knees cracked as he bent to sit on the log next to Tarthur. They were camped out in the open grassland in a field that had recently been harvested. The farmers in the southern cities grew grain that could be harvested all year round. They would typically have three planting cycles per year, allowing fields to lie fallow once every two years. Garseon had contracted with a nearby farmer to allow them to camp in a place that offered them a clear view of the land around them. One ambush from the top of a tree had been enough. Zelin was not strong enough to put up magical sentries and hold them every night. Such a feat required the wizard to maintain a part of his concentration on every marker, and not lose himself in any one of them.
“I don’t have to tell you that we are nearing the end of our journey,” Zelin said, staring ahead into the fire. “Yet the next few days are shrouded in mystery. Are you sure that you wish to proceed?”
Tarthur leaned closer, feeling the heat press against his face. He closed his eyes. “Last year I would have told you that there was nothing I would not sacrifice to help get Yan back. Yet now, to ask me to put my son in danger? What if he ends up like Kitrina?”
Zelin laid his staff across his thighs, pointing the end out into the growing night. “That possibility certainly exists. But all the signs point to Alahim as the One. He should be able to pass freely from one side to the other.”
“What if he passes into the Vale and decides not to come back?” Tarthur never forgot the look he had seen in the eyes of the aged merwizard Tustor on that stormy night so many years ago. Tustor’s spirit was almost to the Vale when Tarthur had used the Water Orb to call him back to the world of the living. He had even caught a glimpse of the utter serenity that the inside held. Tustor had been haunted by the vision until his death some seven years later.
“Part of being the One involves seeing one’s proper place in the universe,” Zelin explained. “The One will be able to resist the lure of the Vale as he understands that it is not yet his time to remain there.”
Tarthur opened his eyes and they flickered with the fire. A bubble of sap exploded, popping loudly. “Even though Alahim is so young, I can’t help comparing his journey to mine. Would you have sent us if you knew the dangers?”
“The decision did weigh heavily on me,” Zelin sighed. “Perhaps this is why it is good that it is impossible to return to the past. We thought you were only taking a two-day trip to the merfolk. If I had known that Lithar Lifehater was prowling the grasslands, I never would have sent you alone. However, if I had not sent you, then things might have worked out very differently. The world that we know might be nothing more than a memory in the minds of those enslaved by Darhyn.”
Tarthur sat back and cradled his sword between his knees. “We went alone into danger, where by all rights we should have been killed. All Alahim is going into is a place where by all rights he should be safe. And the reward is so great….”
Zelin didn’t reply so Tarthur continued speaking. “There’s one thing that I can’t expel from my mind…. If Yan didn’t give himself up, thousands of people would never have lived past that day. Derlin, Dalin…Yvonne. None of them would be here. Alahim wouldn’t even be here. And now my son has a chance to make it all right again. I can’t take that chance away from him.”
The pommel of Tarthur’s sword flared an instant before they both felt the surge of magergy come in with a sudden gust of wind. It was a strange feeling Tarthur had never felt before.
The magergy was in the wind.
“Tivu! Show yourself!” Zelin’s voice rung out, causing those already asleep to stir and begin to wake.
“I have gone on ahead. I await you at the gate.”
“You have hidden from us for too long. We will not follow you blindly!”
“Then why are you here? You seek the Vale yourself.” The wind whispered the words, wrapping them around Tarthur’s ears. The sound was coming from several directions at once.
“We seek only that
which was lost through your foolishness!” Zelin was standing now, facing east. Tarthur wasn’t sure it mattered, as Tivu seemed to be all around them.
“Would you fault a man for loving something so beautiful?” There was a hint of the pain of unrequited love hiding behind his words.
“It is not for me to judge you,” Zelin softened. “Nor for me to seek to enter the Vale before my time.”
“You may be old in the ways of this world, but I have seen many summers before your birth. You speak carefully to avoid the truth.” Tarthur had no idea what the last statement meant. Dalin had mentioned that longing for the Vale had driven Tivu insane.
“A deal, then.” Everyone was up and out of their beds by this time, but only Zelin addressed the nothingness. “If you bring the One safely through the Wall, I will give you the Power of Air.”
“The Power of Air is not yours,” Zelin said. “Grandmaster Jeuinem passed on before he bequeathed it to you. Appearing as a gust of wind neither changes this nor fools us.”
“What you say is true,” the wind conceded, swerving and dancing to form the sounds against their eardrums. “Yet, once inside the Grandmaster will give Firewing’s feather to the One. I know he will do this…he always wished the Power of Air to be freely distributed among the creatures of this world. We will have no use for it inside. The One may leave whenever he wishes.”
“Very well,” Zelin said. “Our deal is done. But know that if you lie to gain entry, the Creator will not accept your spirit. The way will be forever closed to you.”
“You lie worse than you conceal the truth,” the wind howled. “But my intentions are honorable. Entire ages have passed while I waited in anguish. The One must enter now, and I must enter with him. I offer you the Power of Air as a gesture of friendship.”
Zelin nodded. “When do we leave?”
The wind danced around in anticipation before Tivu responded. “I am waiting at the gate. If you leave now you can be there by sunrise. ”
***********************
All was not lost.
If he kept telling himself that enough times he might even start to believe it.
Corizaz rode on through the night, whipping his steed to exhaustion. He dared not take his undead horses. Their stench could be sensed, and his plan required absolute stealth. He was only a few hours from the gate, but Alahim had just begun to move. He might yet be too late.
He silently cursed her for the hundredth time. He did not know why she had failed to appear or make contact with him, and tarrying at their meeting point had cost him dearly. He knew she was not dead, for such an event would surely rock his consciousness. He could not understand why she had failed to contact him. None could intercept their direct mind link, so that was not a possibility. He feared for the one thing that he had always worried about with her, that what was left of her old mind would rise up against him. Perhaps she had seen something that triggered a memory. There was no concern that she would reveal his plan to others. He had hidden that much too deeply inside of himself. His concern was that once she rebelled, she would be no use to him anymore. She would be no use to anyone.
At least she had delivered the potion into the boy’s bloodstream. Corizaz had tested the connection in Walis, sending the boy an inexplicable urge to go outside. Corizaz had a few agents scattered in the major cities of the world, and it was a simple matter to send one to try to kidnap him. Although the plot had failed, events had turned in Corizaz’s favor as Tivu showed up and directed Alahim toward the Vale.
As soon as Alahim was close, Corizaz would send him another unexplainable signal that he should enter and retrieve the Air Feather as Tivu had promised. When he emerged, a quick blast of air should be enough to blow Alahim’s unsuspecting companions back so that Corizaz could rush in from his hiding place near the gate and retrieve the Air Feather.
He would be gone before any of them knew what happened.
Chapter 10: The Destiny of the One
She tracked them, floating just far enough away to avoid detection. She could sense the concentration of their lookouts, especially the man in the black cloak. In the years of living like an animal, her body had gained a natural instinct. She knew to duck into the grain fields an instant before the lookout raised his eyes. She sensed each coming shift in the direction of the wind, and never let her prey catch the faintest whiff of her scent. She talked to the animals—the white-tailed deer, swift-striking griffin. They pointed her on her way.
It had been difficult to catch up to them at first. Her ordeal with Corizaz had weakened her greatly, and it had taken a day before she could limp away from her oak tree by the river. She didn’t know why, but the weakness left her body when she ate the dried meat in a bag strapped to the inside of her tunic. The pain in her stomach left also. When her short supply was gone, panic had set in. As long as her master had cared for her, she had only to reach inside the pouch and eat. She did not know what food was or why it was important. She walked for hours until she came upon a tree with light red fruits hanging from it. Some suppressed memory caused her to reach out and pluck the papples from their stems. She eyed them curiously and then her small sharp teeth bit into the crisp flesh.
The one bite brought back a torrent of partial memories. She saw him again. There was no doubt that he was involved in her past life before Corizaz had intervened. She just could not see how.
Corizaz’s presence was still a very large part of her mind. He gave her purpose. But it was more than that. He made the world make sense. He knew why drinking water removed the parched feeling from her throat. But maybe this new figure could tell her.
Once she finally caught sight of them, it was easy to stay with them. They traveled much too slowly to outdistance her. As soon as she saw his figure, she wanted to rush to him.
For some unknown reason, she could not. What if he killed her? What if the others did? What if he did not understand? She could learn much just from watching him, from feeling the bond between them.
She turned her forearm up and looked once again at the marking there. She could make no sense of it. Did he know what the squiggly lines and the X meant?
So she stayed out of the way, watching only, trying to understand. If only she could remember! She racked her brain for the answer.
Only a blankness responded from within.
***********************
It was as if the very roots and rocks in the narrow mountain trails were trying to stop them.
At least, that’s how it seemed to Yvonne. The wheels kept popping over every obstacle in the road and bouncing them upwards. She was riding in the back of the wagon, sitting next to Alahim. Uvit and Lily sat opposite, not even trying to get any rest. The relentless movement in the wagon would have prevented anyone from sleeping in any case.
Alahim was stoic. He was staring straight ahead, almost as if his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Yvonne began to fret that her son was already lost to her.
She never remembered her stomach feeling like this before, as if there were a hundred bouncing blubdlubles pounding away at her insides. She was sure that she had to have been terrified when Marhyn’s army closed in on the outskirts of Breshen. If one thought about it logically, she should be less scared now than she was then. Imagine—all she had to do was escort her son to fulfill his proper destiny as the One, but she was more scared than when she had faced down an entire army! That’s what becoming a mother could do to you.
The blubdlubles must have been excreting something, because Yvonne felt a vile taste rising up her throat. She set Alahim down beside her and vaulted to the front of the wagon, where she proceeded to vomit over the side. Tarthur reigned in the team.
She sat down on the rough wooden seat as Tarthur whipped the team forward again. He handed her his waterskin.
She took a swig, swishing the water around her mouth, trying to flush every small reservoir around her teeth. She spat it out over the right side of the wagon.
“This road i
s too bumpy,” she said, taking another rinse and spit before handing the waterskin back to Tarthur.
“We can’t take this chance away from him.” Yvonne had to strain to hear her husband’s words, they were so soft. The sound of the horses’ hooves hitting the hard trail was the only other sound in the still night. It was just past midnight. Dawn would not arrive for a few more hours, but it was already on its way.
Yvonne didn’t respond. She wanted to comfort Tarthur, but how could she do that when she couldn’t even comfort herself? Something about her mother’s instinct told her that they were about to make a terrible mistake. How could she ever forgive herself later? Certainly not by any rational chain of reasons.
“If it wasn’t for Yan,” Tarthur continued, subconsciously sensing Yvonne’s inner turmoil. “Then Alahim might not even be here. Or you.” He turned for the first time to look at her, gazing into her mesmerizing blue eyes and seeing the gentle curve of her cheek illuminated in the moonlight.
Maybe it was that times of intense stress brought out intense feelings in people. Or maybe it was that Yvonne felt so vulnerable and alone. But whatever it was, at once Yvonne realized just how much she loved Tarthur.
“Promise me,” he said, taking her hands in his. “Promise me that whatever happens to Alahim, you will not try to rush into the Vale. After seeing Kitrina…”
Before he could finish, Yvonne reached forward and placed a solitary finger over his worn and chapped lips, quieting him. Her hand strayed down across the stubble on his cheeks, and then she kissed him fully. She did not want to pull back. She finally did, as the steam from their breaths rose and mingled in the short few inches between their faces. There was no way she could risk losing him.
“I promise,” she said, pulling away from his body entirely. “Now, let us bring Alahim out here to sit with us. A few last minutes to spend with our son is not too much to ask.”
Tarthur nodded. Things would never be the same. For soon, Alahim would witness mind-blowing revelations.
Lands of Daranor: Book 02 - ProphecyQuest Page 17