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Wurm War

Page 18

by Christopher Golden


  “Will be back,” Cassandra said. “We all agree on that. Energy cannot be destroyed, Tim. It is still there, somewhere. Eventually we will find a way to tap into it again. We are mages, after all. But until we do, Lord Romulus has reminded the Parliament that there is only one person in all the world who truly knows how to survive without the aid of magic.”

  Ivar smiled, even laughed a bit, though softly, and crossed his arms as he gazed expectantly at Timothy.

  “You mean …?” he began.

  Cassandra nodded. “Of course. They need you now more than ever. There’s no more ghostfire, though. We’ve put the souls of all of our ancestors to rest at last. But someone must teach them how to harness the hungry fire, and show them how to run water for bathing and to irrigate crops. There are so many things that we relied upon magic for. They need you, Tim. We need you.”

  She gazed up at him with those green eyes that took his breath away, and then Cassandra slid her arms around him.

  “I need you.”

  Timothy smiled.

  Perhaps there was hope for the future after all.

  On the Island of Patience, Sheridan sat on an outcropping of rock that jutted into the ocean. It had been one of Timothy’s favorite places on the island. Sheridan and Ivar had often referred to it as his “peaceful spot.” Timothy had liked to simply sit there and watch the waves or lay back and observe the clouds drifting across the sky.

  Now Sheridan sat with his metal hands on his knees and gazed at the sky, watching the Wurm children laughing and shouting as they chased one another, darting and weaving through the air. Blasts of fire burned across the sky as they attacked one another, but it was all in play. None of them would actually get burned, as long as they did not get out of hand. And Sheridan was there to see that they did not.

  One of the children, a young male Wurm named Trajun, had flown too high, and several of the others were pursuing him, their wings outstretched.

  Sheridan stood, a loud whistle of steam coming from the valve on the side of his head.

  “Trajun! Lystra! All of you, come back down!” he called. “You know you aren’t supposed to stray far from the island!”

  Several of them glared at him, but they obeyed. Sheridan did not want them to be sad. He hated having to curtail their exuberance, but Verlis and Cythra had made sure that all the children knew the rules. They were going to have to survive here until Timothy and Cassandra figured out a way to reach them, to come through and bring them back to Terra. The children had learned to speak in the tongue of mages from Sheridan. They might bristle at times, but they usually obeyed him. And the adults had made it clear to them that Sheridan was in charge.

  Verlis and Cythra had gone searching across the ocean for other islands, or any land that would provide more food than Patience had to offer. It was a small island. There were enough fruits and vegetables for them to survive in the short term, but Cythra did not want the children to ever be hungry. So she and Verlis hoped to find additional resources elsewhere.

  Sheridan was not so concerned. As lonely as it would be without Timothy, he would enjoy being back on the island. After all, Patience was his home. And he knew Timothy would find a way to get to him eventually. It might take years, but Sheridan could wait.

  He had faith.

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