She turned to obey, joy welling up so it threatened to cut off the breath from her lungs or burst the heart from her chest. She ran, and she could hear herself laughing and crying as she went.
She did have a little trouble finding the way. Sight was unwieldy here; she had always found her way along the shore by feeling and scent and sound; once or twice sight nearly threw her off. But it wasn’t until she had reached the little camp in the woods that it occurred to her to wonder why she could still see.
Her eyes were bright when she stumbled into the camp. Rehtse looked up at her, and her own face lit with wonder and sudden hope.
“You can see?” she asked before Virginia had even caught her breath.
“He is here!” Virginia exclaimed. “He is alive! He waits on the beach—go to him, all of you; go!”
Roland dropped the book in his lap. “Who?” he asked.
“You know who!” Virginia burst out. “He is waiting for you, fools that ye are. Go.”
“Virginia…” Rehtse said. “Are you sure?”
It was Kieran who stood next, and his eyes were shining like hers. Some colour had come back into his face. “She can see. It’s a miracle. Who else could have done it?”
Libuse gasped in sudden joy, and all turned to look at her. She was looking at the Ploughman. His skin was glowing golden. His Gift had returned.
Maggie leaped to her feet. “The air is singing!” she shouted. “It’s true!”
And she led them in running down the beach toward the place where Virginia had seen him. The figure of a young man stood there indeed, wind blowing in his golden hair, arms folded across his chest, and he laughed as they came running, running and tripping over their own feet until one by one, they reached the sand where he stood and dropped to their knees.
He looked beyond the kneeling crowd to one who hung back.
“Robert Sinclair!” he commanded.
Lord Robert’s face convulsed as he tried to answer. Silent, he came closer and dropped slowly to his knees.
The King smiled. “That’s better,” he said.
Then he looked down at them all, and they lifted their faces in wordless response to the light of his eyes that embraced and filled them and made them whole.
“I told you all would not be as you expected,” he said. “Roland reminded you of that when I died. I couldn’t finish what I came to do without dying.”
“I don’t understand,” the Ploughman said.
“I went to meet Death,” the King said simply. “And I was stronger.” He smiled again, and the air around them began to glitter. “I brought some back with me,” he said. “I think you know them.”
They gasped. Indeed—indeed they did. The forms taking shape in the glittering air were familiar—were beloved. Michael cried out. His clann was there. All he had lost—and his father, and his mother, and the generation the Order had killed. Maggie’s eyes filled with tears as she reached out to Jerome, who looked at her as through a veil of light but did not reach back, and Mrs. Cook and Pat joined her in marveling as John and Mary Davies and Old Dan Seaton looked at them, eyes sparkling. Marja and Nicolas looked at each other, beaming with joy, as the Major grinned at them, and Nicolas’s father behind him. The priests of the Darkworld were there, and Kris of the Mountains, and many others who had been lost.
Roland found himself facing a golden-haired man he seemed to know.
“Aneryn,” he said.
“Yes,” the King answered. “The first lion—the prophet whose spirit you share.”
Virginia was smiling softly, regarding a figure in the light. “Hello, Grandfather,” she said.
Slowly, the figures began to fade. Michael swallowed a lump in his throat, but the deep grief he had lived with every minute since losing his clann was gone, replaced by a healing sadness and joy too deep for words.
“Will we—” Maggie began.
“Yes,” the King answered. “You will all be together again. Someday. When your work is finished.”
“Our work?” the Ploughman asked.
“The work of turning this world to me,” the King said.
“But you are here,” Rehtse said. “You are coming to reign in Pravik; surely there is little left for us to do.”
Roland was shaking his head, and the King let him speak. “No,” he said. “No, he’s not staying. He’s going away again. The old books—well, they don’t exactly say it. But they hint at it. Even Aneryn’s journal hints at it. Don’t they?”
“They do,” the King said.
“But why?” Rehtse burst out. “Why, when we have waited so long?”
The King pointed, and they turned their heads. His finger was pointed at Lord Robert, whose face reddened beneath his greying hair. “Because of him,” the King said. “And all the Darkworlders who turned against me, and all the leaderless people in this world who are coming to Pravik to beg you to rule them. Morning Star and the hordes who became Blackness had their chances long ago. I came back to deal them a final blow. But I have no heart to deal that blow to men—not yet.”
His voice softened. “One day I will. Time will run out for them too. But it has not run out yet. The Seventh World has been kept in darkness far too long. You—all of you—are light. And I am sending you back to Pravik to be light, and to spread light, as long as you live. After that you will come to me.” He smiled. “You are in me now. Death cannot defeat you any longer.”
He was beginning to fade.
“Will you be with us?” Virginia asked. “Even when we cannot see you?”
He smiled. “I have always been with you,” he said.
* * *
Epilogue
Seventy years have gone by. I am very old.
Some ask who I am. I will never cease to marvel at how quickly men can forget—at how easily stories change, how easily they are twisted by those who would misuse them. But there is always a remnant now, always some who remember and faithfully pass the true tales down. Young men and women sit at my feet and learn of me. They call me the Prophet, though once I was simply called the Voice. Few remember me as Roland MacTavish, the boy whose only real Gift was that he knew the King.
The other Gifted are gone many years, passed into legend. Where once we were Six, only I am left. But those who believe in the King display snatches of the old glory and the Gifts. Some can still sing, can hear the songs, can see beyond the sky.
When I lay down to sleep, I think I can hear them whispering to me. They tell me that all will be well, that my journey is nearly ended. In my dreams, Virginia Ramsey still calls me a lion and tells me to roar all the louder, to roar until my dying breath, so that the Seventh World can’t ever completely forget. The Ploughman tells me that it doesn’t matter that his kingdom so soon scattered and broke into factions, because the true King will one day rule over it all.
And when I open my eyes, just before the physical world becomes solid before me, I often see the King smiling down on me.
So I wake, and I go and I tell others that he is here. For it is true. He is here, and he is coming. The prayer Rehtse taught us, that the young priests have turned into songs, is both prophecy and petition.
Your kingdom come, we pray.
Come soon.
THE END
# # #
Sign up for Rachel's newsletter and get a free download of "Journey: An Allegory"!
Click here to sign up: http://eepurl.com/eAG9Q
A Note from the Author:
Thanks for reading! I’m honoured that you took the time to delve into my world with me. I’d love to connect with you‒you can find me at Facebook.com/RachelStarrThomsonWriter or on Twitter @writerstarr.
My website, www.rachelstarrthomson.com, lists all of my other novels, short stories, and nonfiction. You’re cordially invited to come by! You’ll also find buy links, a blog, and usually something free to read.
Finally, if you enjoyed this book enough to tell others about it, would you consider leaving a review at the retailer wh
ere you got it? I’d appreciate it a whole lot.
Stan Lee always said it best: Higher!
Rachel Starr Thomson
Other Books by Rachel Starr Thomson
Novels
Worlds Unseen: Book 1 in the Seventh World Trilogy
Burning Light: Book 2 in the Seventh World Trilogy
Coming Day: Book 3 in the Seventh World Trilogy
Exile: Book 1 in The Oneness Cycle
Hive: Book 2 in The Oneness Cycle
Attack: Book 3 in The Oneness Cycle
Renegade: Book 4 in The Oneness Cycle
Rise: Book 5 in The Oneness Cycle
Taerith (Fantasy)
Theodore Pharris Saves the Universe (Juvenile/Humour)
Lady Moon
Angel in the Woods
Reap the Whirlwind
The Babel Chip
Short Stories
Magdalene
Butterflies Dancing
Ogres Is
Fallen Star
Journey
Wayfarer’s Dream
The City Came Creeping
Of Men and Bones
Non Fiction
Tales of the Heartily Homeschooled (Humour/Memoir)
Heart to Heart: Meeting With God in the Lord’s Prayer
Letters to a Samuel Generation: The Collection
Fifty Shades of Loved
Mind Soul Ink Paper
Now For the Not-Yet
Undivided Devotion
Still Praying in the Wilderness
The Seventh World Trilogy omnibus Page 85