by Paul Collins
Within a few moments the transfer was complete.
Chapter 21
The Unravelling
The new Wardragon stood up. And smiled. >>>FA’RED IS NOT VERY HAPPY<<< It gritted its teeth. >>>I CAN BARELY CONTAIN HIM – HE IS INDEED A GREAT MAGE. THE MAILSHIRT IS USING MUCH OF ITS POWER TO SUBDUE HIM. QUICKLY. SUMMON THE ONE<<<
Jelindel had already done so, and now the great dragon, the Sacred One, wheeled in the sky and plunged earthwards with terrifying speed. It landed heavily nearby.
The Wardragon gave Jelindel one last look.
>I GO TO JOIN THEM<<< it said, and walked almost jauntily towards the Sacred One. The dragon opened its enormous jaws and the Wardragon stepped inside without hesitation. In her mind, Jelindel could hear the terrified screams of Fa’red as he realised what was about to happen.
After all, he was only too aware of the one force in the universe that could physically destroy a mailshirt. Dragonfire, but not just any dragonfire. Only in the great life-furnace of the Sacred One could the almost immortal dragonlinks – forged five thousand years before – be unmade.
The jaws closed over the Wardragon. The Sacred One swallowed.
A moment later, Fa’red’s screams, stabbing through Jelindel’s mind, ceased. She slumped to the ground, spent, but around her the others were getting to their feet. Daretor and Zimak ran over. Ras came forward too.
All stared anxiously at the Sacred One, as if expecting him to die.
‘Won’t it poison you or something?’ asked Zimak.
‘A cat does not die from eating a rat,’ replied the dragon.
‘So it’s gone, it’s over?’ Zimak asked nobody in particular.
Jelindel managed a weak nod. ‘It’s over.’
The Sacred One rose back into the air with slow, almost ponderous flaps of its enormous wings. His brethren joined him, and together they flew low over the Wardragon’s forces. These scattered – most heading back for the portal through which they had come. Others ran towards the hills.
‘It’s over,’ Jelindel said again, more amazed than anyone.
Daretor helped her to her feet and they embraced. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘How did you beat it?’
‘I didn’t,’ Jelindel said.
‘But then –’
‘Part of it wanted to be defeated,’ she said. ‘It was very tired.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ Daretor repeated.
Jelindel laughed. ‘That is because you do not understand defeat.’
Kaleton stepped forward. ‘Jelindel, there is one who wishes to speak to you. He is called Taggar.’ Jelindel knew from his tone that something bad had happened.
She, Daretor and Zimak hurried after Kaleton to a crashed airship. Lying on the ground beside it was Taggar, his body crushed. His grip on life was all but gone.
Jelindel dropped at his side. ‘Oh, Taggar.’
‘Thus we part,’ he said softly, managing the ghost of a smile.
‘I can heal you. Let me try.’
Taggar shook his head. ‘This is beyond even your powers, Jelindel. I only –’
His eyes went wide and filled with tears. Ras knelt beside him. He too was weeping, and lifted Taggar’s head gently into his lap.
‘Taggar?’ said Ras. ‘Is it really you?’
Taggar laughed, and coughed blood. ‘I thought you dead, Garricka!’
Jelindel turned amazed eyes on Ras. ‘You’re Garricka?’
Ras nodded. He stroked Taggar’s brow and wept. ‘Jelindel,’ said Taggar. ‘Can you give us a moment, please?’
Jelindel nodded. She placed her hand on Taggar’s cheek, then stood and turned away, taking the others with her. From a distance they saw Taggar and Ras whispering and embracing. There was great joy and sadness between them, and then it was over.
Ras rose slowly to his feet, stood forlornly gazing down at Taggar, looking lost, then came across to Jelindel and the others. His cheeks were wet, and he seemed lost in grief, yet he rallied.
‘Taggar asked me to explain,’ he said. He halted, searched for words, and almost smiled. ‘He said you would be confused. I am Garricka, though for a great span of time I did not remember, and Taggar was my beloved.’ Daretor and Zimak exchanged puzzled looks. ‘We are not as you, eternally divided into man and woman. My species has only one gender, though once we were like you. All long-lived races are androgynous, we are not sure why. I know you think of us as males, but in a world such as Q’zar, where strength and fighting are prized, it makes sense to go in the masculine form.’
‘You are able to change forms?’ asked Jelindel. ‘We are able to accentuate one part of ourselves over the other, yes.’
‘What will you do now?’
Ras took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘I must grieve, but then I shall take Taggar’s body back to our family. Our children will not have forgotten us. Our mission, after all, is finished. The last Wardragon is gone, thanks to you.’
Ras turned and walked back to Taggar’s body, and sat down beside it. For a long time he remained there, clutching the body to himself, weeping silently.
A city-wide victory feast was underway in D’loom, for in victory thoughts for the dead are often put aside until the misery of the morning’s hangover. There was much revelry on the streets, and food and drink were dispensed as readily as arrows in a siege.
That Prince Augustus had died in one of the thundercast attacks did not seem to dampen anyone’s spirits. Indeed many called for Jelindel and Daretor to sit on the Skeltian throne in his stead. Zimak did not like this idea, as he would have to bow to Daretor.
Jelindel and her companions spent that evening in the Boar and Bottle, which was full to overflowing with revellers. Davit was already there, regaling Ellien, a serving maid, with his stories of rather improbable feats both on the battlefield and as a spy. He was being encouraged by Osric, who confirmed his every statement. Not surprisingly, a large part of D’loom tried to shoulder its way into the tavern, wishing for perhaps a word, or even a touch of its heroes.
‘Imagine that,’ whispered Zimak to Daretor. ‘Me, a hero!’
‘History is written by the victors,’ observed Daretor.
‘Now what’s that meant to mean?’
Several stories had to be told as they ate and drank by lamplight. The dragons, Osric said, had been delayed by magical traps set by Fa’red, but had come as soon as they had freed themselves. Jelindel already knew about the Stone People.
That left the forces from Golgora. In Taggar’s absence, one of his lieutenants – a man Jelindel had personally trained – stood up. He was a little nervous at speaking in front of a crowd, and so told his tale quickly and gruffly.
‘As you know, time passes more quickly on Golgora than here. It has been three months since you left. We overran the Wardragon’s fortress within two days. Its files showed that there were other bases of which we knew nothing. From these, attack after attack was launched upon us. Our people were inexperienced compared to those of the Wardragon’s, but we had courage and resolve which they lacked. Slowly we wore them down, harassing them, giving them no peace. Then, about two weeks ago in our time, all of the Wardragon’s forces withdrew. We knew then that they had come through to Q’zar, but we could not follow immediately. We needed time to organise, to tend the wounded and to marshal and repair the captured flying machines. That done, we came. There are many left behind that we must now bring through. Not all will be able to return to their own worlds, but anywhere is better than Golgora.’
He bowed amid the cheering, then very nearly missed his chair in his haste to sit down and again be at one with the crowd.
The celebrations continued all night, and merged into the regrets of the morning.
Thereafter, there was much to do in D’loom. Large parts of the city were in ruins, and it would be the work of months to even clear away the rubble, let alone rebuild. Here the Hellholers proved their worth and goodwill, both out of gratitude and because they needed a new
home. Their flying machines ferried in food and carried loads in a morning that all the carts of the city could not have moved in a month.
Though most Hellholers elected to remain in D’loom, or agreed to found new towns, some decided to go with Ras when he departed for the star worlds with Taggar’s body. On the night that Ras left, Jelindel stood atop the tallest tower in D’loom. Watching the ship shrink to a tiny point of light in the heavens, Jelindel felt a strange emptiness. She missed Taggar. In the two years they had been together on Golgora, he had become something of the father that she had lost five years earlier.
‘Would company be an intrusion?’
Jelindel turned and smiled. Daretor came and stood beside her, and he too gazed upwards at the stars. They had not spent much time together since the defeat of the Wardragon. Daretor had become, by default, the ruler of the city, since Jelindel had refused to rule anyone. Indeed, there were still calls to make Jelindel the queen of D’loom, but she thought the idea ludicrous. Many pointed out that she was a countess, technically, but Jelindel insisted that skill with magic was no qualification for a ruler.
In the meantime, Daretor had to administer the city with Zimak helping under close supervision. Prince Augustus had failed to provide for the secession by fathering even a single child.
‘You didn’t think we would win, did you?’ asked Daretor.
‘No, I didn’t. I think a part of me, like the Wardragon, wanted to lose, wanted to pay for something that happened in the past.’
Daretor put his arms around her and she snuggled up close. ‘And you?’
Daretor said, ‘I never doubted it, not with you on our side.’
Jelindel turned and looked up into his face. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’
‘Well, you might have told me.’ She laughed.
‘What happens now?’ he asked.
She turned back, still within his embrace, and gazed out over D’loom, resting her chin on his arms. ‘With us?’ He nodded, saying nothing. ‘I’m afraid it’s still unknowable.’
She felt him sag a little; he could not see the slight smile that played across her lips. ‘But I think that’s all right,’ she said slowly. ‘I think it’s meant to be unknowable.’
‘And the nightmares?’
‘It’s strange, but I think I learnt something from the Wardragon.’ Jelindel became grave. ‘And from you. And Taggar too. He had a very old saying from his world: “Those who do not remember the past are condemned to relive it”. Well, I think I would change that slightly.’
‘To what?’
‘Those who keep trying to pay for the past will never escape it.’
Daretor laughed. ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said, ‘even more now that I’m a ruler!’
Jelindel lifted her face and he kissed her.
Epilogue
One year after the Battle of D’loom, Zimak persuaded his friend, the Archmage Jelindel dek Mediesar, to take a trip with him. Accompanied by Daretor, they headed north towards the Algon Mountains, and Argentia.
After a few days travel they stopped at a briny lake, and here Jelindel and Daretor met Ethella, and saw that a great love had grown between her and Zimak, who had been spending more and more time there in recent months.
At Zimak’s pleading, Jelindel sought long and hard to find a way to free Ethella, but in the end was defeated by the ancient and powerful curse.
‘Is there nothing you can do?’ Zimak asked mournfully. He clutched Ethella’s hand tightly, but it was she who comforted him. Used to her imprisonment, she had not expected there was much chance she could be freed.
Jelindel looked gravely at the two of them. Daretor, nearby, watched silently. ‘There is one way,’ said Jelindel, reluctantly.
‘Yes?’ said Zimak eagerly. ‘Whatever it is, we should try it!’
Ethella cautioned him. ‘Hear Jelindel out,’ she said. She had seen the look on Jelindel’s face.
Zimak folded his arms. ‘I don’t care, let’s do it!’
‘Ethella’s right,’ said Jelindel. ‘Hear me out. The cure might be more bitter than the plight.’
‘I hardly think –’ Zimak began, but Daretor placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Zimak,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘shut up, will you?’
Zimak shut up.
‘I think the curse can be broken, but a sacrifice must be made.’
Ethella sighed. ‘Alas, I feared as much. The old witch was too clever for us.’
‘What kind of sacrifice?’ asked Zimak.
‘You must bind yourself to Ethella, in body and soul. And what is done in this way cannot be undone.’
‘You mean we must marry?’
‘That. And much more.’
‘How much more?’ asked Ethella worriedly.
Jelindel sighed. ‘You cannot leave the lake. You cannot enter our world. So Zimak must enter yours. Forever.’
Zimak stared, and gulped. Ethella shook her head. ‘No. No, I won’t allow it. I am used to my prison. I will not have another condemned to share it with me.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘I will bear it alone. It is my curse, after all.’
There was a long silence. At last Zimak said, ‘I have made a decision. I will join Ethella in the lake.’
‘Zimak, no!’
Zimak smiled. ‘It will not be so bad. My friends will visit us. Maybe we can even build a pavilion here on the shore. And I am very fond of fish. That is what you eat, isn’t it?’ He looked scared, but determined.
Now Ethella’s eyes brimmed with tears.
And Jelindel burst out laughing. They both looked at her, and Daretor frowned.
‘Who said anything about staying in the lake?’ she said.
‘You said she can’t enter our world,’ Zimak said.
‘She can’t. But she can return to her own world – and her own time.’ Jelindel paused a moment, then said softly: ‘But only if you go with her. The spell can only be broken backwards, and only if one who truly loves her makes a supreme sacrifice.’
Zimak licked dry lips. ‘You mean go back five thousand years? Back to the time of Kamiz and Inanna and the dragons and … and –’
‘Yes. That’s what I mean.’
‘And we can never return here – I mean, now?’
‘Never.’
‘But – what if it doesn’t work?’ said Ethella. ‘What if we are separated? I would rather stay here in the lake than risk that.’
‘You will not be separated. You will remain together your whole lives, and you will both live into old age. You will also have many children and though there will be trying times ahead, you will be happy.’
‘Truly?’ asked Zimak. ‘You’re not just making this up?’
‘I will take the truthsense if you like.’ And she meant it.
Ethella stood up. ‘We need to talk,’ she said. She led Zimak away down the shore and for a few hours they sat in the moonlight and talked and laughed and cried. Jelindel and Daretor wrapped themselves in furs and watched the ripples on the lake.
‘I like it here,’ Jelindel said.
‘I also,’ said Daretor. ‘I’ve written some ballads.’
Jelindel cocked her head. ‘Really? You must have been sneaking off for quiet times while my back was turned. Bards have a good attitude. Your “honour for its own sake” attitude is your worst feature.’
‘Honour can do more damage than evil when taken too far. You can never take things too seriously when you have to sing about them. Would you like a song?’
‘Actually, I could think of nothing better. Who would imagine? Daretor the romantic.’
Mindful not to disturb Jelindel’s resting place against his shoulder, Daretor reached over and pulled his lyaral from its rollpack. ‘What about the ballad of how the Preceptor courts Fa’red’s wife?’
‘Hmm. I don’t think Fa’red ever had a wife.’
‘He does in my ballad.’
Finally, just before dawn, Zimak and Ethella returned. Zimak looked happier than
Jelindel could ever remember seeing him. ‘I’m going,’ he said.
Jelindel nodded, blinking back tears. Daretor, as chief administrator of D’loom, married them there by the lake in the silvery moonlight, and when the couple had kissed and sworn their vows, Jelindel wove her magic.
As the sun peeked over the far horizon, Zimak hugged Jelindel and said he would never forget her. Then he hugged Daretor, who kept blinking and pretending he had something in both eyes.
Then, amidst tears and laughter and more goodbyes, Jelindel spoke the words of command, and a great light suddenly appeared above the centre of the lake, and the waters parted, forming a passageway.
Zimak took a deep breath, clasped his wife’s hand, and with a lingering look over his shoulder at his two friends, walked down the passageway and into the light.
And was gone.
On the lonely ride back to D’loom, Daretor and Jelindel said little at first, both missing Zimak in their own way. But the following afternoon Daretor broached something that had been on his mind since the night at the lake.
‘You made it all up, didn’t you?’ he said.
‘Made what up?’
‘All that stuff about them making it back in one piece, and always being together, and having children, and dying of old age … You just made it up to make them feel better, didn’t you?’ He grinned tightly. ‘I’m not sure that was fair.’
Jelindel burst out laughing. ‘Zimak was right, you know. You really are a stick-in-the-mud. And just so you know, I didn’t make it up.’
‘But how could you possibly know? It was five thousand years ago!’
She reined in her horse and he did the same. ‘I know because I know.’
‘Oh, well, that explains everything.’
She was still smiling. ‘I know because I really do know what happens to them when they get back to that time. And you do too, except you don’t realise it.’