Gaelen was the only one of the surviving Beast Slayers to have emerged unscathed from the battle. Lennox carried a score of stitches, while Gwalchmai had taken a spear in the shoulder. Agwaine had been stabbed in the leg and he walked with a painful limp.
“Are you really going to go with the Queen?” asked Agwaine. “And leave the mountains?”
“Yes,” answered Gaelen. “I promised her years ago that I would follow her.”
“Will she take me too, do you think?” Gwalchmai asked.
“I believe so.”
“I shall not go,” said Agwaine. “There is much to do here.”
“Without Layne there is little to hold me here,” said Lennox sadly. “I’ll come with you, Gaelen.”
An hour before dusk the column arrived at the invisible bridge to Vallon, and spread out along the banks.
A man appeared on the far shore, a tall man with greying hair, wearing a velvet robe the color of dark wine. He lifted his hand. Glittering lights rose from the water to hover in the air around the invisible bridge, which darkened, gleaming like silver in the fading light. Stronger and stronger grew the bridge as the light coalesced, shimmering and sparkling, until at last it seemed built of silver and gems. The man lifted his hand once more and stepped out upon the silver walkway. From behind him came the men and women of the Farlain and the Pallides.
A great silence settled on the clansmen as hope flared again in their hearts.
The man approached, his grey-streaked hair billowing in the breeze. He was full-bearded and his eyes were the green of a distant sea. “Caswallon!” shouted Gaelen, running forward to meet him.
Caswallon opened his arms, tears sparkling in his eyes. The two men hugged each other warmly, then Gaelen pulled back to look at his foster father. Caswallon seemed to have aged ten years since last they met.
“What has happened to you?” whispered Gaelen.
“We will talk later. First let us enjoy the reunion.”
Wives and children ran to husbands and fathers, sons and brothers, and laughter swelled through the trees of Atta forest. “A long time since that sound was heard,” said Caswallon.
Maeg was one of the last across the bridge. Silently she approached her husband, little Donal beside her riding on the back of the great hound, Render.
“Leave us for a while, Gaelen. I will see you later,” said Caswallon. He took Maeg’s hand, kissing her palm. Her eyes were full of tears and she leaned into him.
“What have they done to you?” she asked, holding back the sorrow and stroking his greying hair.
“They? There is no ‘they,’ Maeg. Time has done this. But it was necessary, for otherwise I would never have found you. It took me eleven years to learn all that I needed to fetch you home. But every day of that time I thought of you and I loved you.”
Donal slipped from Render’s back and tugged at the hem of Caswallon’s velvet robe. He was crying. Caswallon lifted him to his chest and hugged him tightly.
“We won, Caswallon,” said Maeg. “But the price was terrible.”
He nodded. “It always is. But we are together now, and we shall rebuild.”
Maeg caught sight of a silver-armored woman staring at them. “Who is that?” she asked Caswallon. He turned and saw Sigarni swing away and walk alone toward the trees.
“That is the Queen, Maeg,” he said, taking her into his arms. “She saved us all.”
“She looked so sad,” said Maeg, then turned back to her husband. “Welcome home, my love,” she whispered, kissing him.
He couldn’t reply. Tears ran from his eyes and she led him away into the trees.
Chapter Eleven
Three days after the battle, Gaelen was summoned by an elderly druid and led to Taliesen’s chambers below the hall of the Gate where Caswallon awaited him. In the harsh light of the chamber Caswallon seemed even older; his hair was thinning and had turned white near the temples.
“Welcome,” he said, gesturing the clansman to be seated. He poured clear white wine into silver goblets, handed one to Gaelen, and then sat down in a wide leather chair.
“What happened to you, Caswallon?”
The older man chuckled. “Do I look so bad?”
“No,” lied Gaelen, “just older.”
“I am older. It is eleven years since I asked you to find Laric and bring his warriors to Axta Glen. Eleven long years . . . lonely years.”
“The Queen told me you led her to the Chalice Gate and then you stepped through. Within seconds you returned, only you were older and dressed, as now, in robes of velvet.”
“It is not easy for me to explain it to you, Gaelen. When I reached the Chalice Gate I was filled with fear. A dying monk told me the Gate was not closed, yet I could see for myself that it was. The cave was shallow and water dripped from the walls. I walked forward, sick with dread, and reached out. My hand passed through the stone as though through smoke. I walked on, and found myself on a plain overlooking a city of golden turrets and tall towers of polished marble.
“A man was waiting for me. His name was Astole and he greeted me like a brother, for I had saved his life in another place. He took me to his home—a palace with many servants—and there he began to instruct me in the Gates and the words of power to manipulate them. I was filled with terrible impatience, but he promised he could return me to within seconds of my departure. And I had to trust him.
“The years passed slowly. Sometimes I would be filled with joy at my newfound knowledge and dream of exacting a terrible revenge on the Aenir. At other times I felt an awful dread, wondering if I had been tricked. But always I learned. Impossibility made reality. You have seen the stone that attracts iron?”
“Yes. Onic has one.”
“The force that pulls the metal cannot be seen, but its effects can be observed. It is the same with the power behind the Gates. Let me show you something.” Caswallon lifted a small box set with colored stones. He pressed the ruby at the center and the far wall darkened, then became a window overlooking the Farlain.
“As you can see, that is the mountain of Carduil on the borders of Haesten territory. That is now. We can see that image as the light is reflected to our eyes. Had we been here yesterday, we would have seen rain over Carduil. But we were not. Yet the image was still transmitted. Astole discovered that light images linger, leaving traces that can last ten thousand years. Hence, with the turn of a dial, we can see . . .” The screen shimmered and the mountain appeared once more, cloud-covered and dull, sheeting rain pounding the slopes. Caswallon pressed a stone and the image disappeared.
“Astole made machines that could trace the Lines of Time, allowing man to view his own past. But then the greatest excitement of all. Within the traces Astole discovered particles of matter that did not deteriorate. Unchanging, they existed from day to day, from century to century. They were unaffected by the passing of time. Indeed, they seemed to exist outside time’s laws.
“During his experiments Astole trapped several particles within a field of force—similar to that which works the stone that attracts iron. The field and the particles disappeared without trace. Astole constructed another and suddenly the first field reappeared, but the second vanished. The following day he constructed a third field, and the same thing happened. Excited beyond his experience, Astole made plans for two large fields, preparing his assistants beforehand. He placed himself at the center of the first field and activated it. He vanished instantly. His assistants, following his instructions, activated the second field and he reappeared. The particles had drawn him into a distant past. How, he did not know, but he had stumbled on the greatest discovery of them all, the Gates.”
“I don’t understand any of this, Caswallon,” said Gaelen.
“I’m sorry, my boy. How can I tell you in minutes that which has taken a decade of my life? Anyway, I stayed with Astole, and I absorbed his knowledge. Together we journeyed to fabulous cities and kingdoms lost to the memory of man. We walked the Time Lines, seeing the
births of civilizations and the deaths of empires. Finally he judged me ready and we journeyed to a desert, and there I met the man to answer all questions. As he spoke I felt my heart emptied and refilled. All dreams of vengeance died. Violence was washed from me.”
“Who was he?” asked the clansman.
Caswallon smiled and laid his hand on Gaelen’s shoulder. “If you thought the Gates were hard to comprehend, then do not ask about the man. He sent me home and I appeared in the Chalice Gate, even as you see me now. With my new words of power I activated the machines and scanned Axta Glen. You were not there. I searched the Farlain, coming at last to Icairn’s Folly. Then I opened the Gate and the Queen led her lancers through.”
“But you did not ride with them,” said Gaelen.
“No. I am the Hawk Eternal, Gaelen, and I’ll never wield a sword against any man again.”
“You have changed, Father.”
“All life is change. But I am the same man who carried you from Ateris, the same man who loves his people. Only now I love them more. It is strange. I could have destroyed the Aenir single-handed; but with the gift of that power, I lost the desire to use it thus.”
“How did Maeg take all this?” asked Gaelen.
“Hard. But love conquers all. And I love her—more than life.”
“Will you remain as Hunt Lord?”
“Do I look like a Farlain Hunt Lord?” he asked, smiling.
“No.”
“And I shall not be the Hunt Lord. I will remain here, at Vallon, and tend the Gates. There are many tasks before me, Gaelen, but first I must spend some time with Maeg and Donal. Then I will meet Astole again.”
“I am returning with the Queen,” said Gaelen. “Lennox, Onic, and Gwalchmai are coming with me.”
“I know. We will meet again.”
“Tell me, Caswallon, are you truly content?”
“More content than any mortal man has any right to be.”
“Then I am glad for you.”
“And I for you. You have a fine woman in Lara, and I know she will give you beautiful children. I wish for you a life enriched with love, for you deserve it.”
“I shall miss the Farlain. Will I be able to return someday?”
“Ask me when next you see me.”
“I must go. The Queen is waiting,” said Gaelen.
Caswallon rose and walked around the table. “Walk always in the Light,” he told Gaelen.
Caswallon watched the clansman leave and his heart ached. He had seen pity in Gaelen’s eyes and knew the bond between them would never be the same. For to Gaelen, Caswallon was no longer a clansman. He had put aside his sword.
What could he have told Gaelen to make him realize? Should he have explained about the man in the desert?
Caswallon grinned wryly and filled his goblet. Tell him about a man who allowed himself to be dragged through a city and murdered by the people he loved? Oh, yes, that would have impressed him. He finished his wine and turned to the black screen before him. Lifting the control box he tuned the image, watching Sigarni, Gaelen, and his friends crossing the Gates of Time.
He felt a cold breeze on his back and turned to see Maeg standing in the doorway hugging a woolen shawl about her shoulders. She seemed so distant, so withdrawn. Caswallon swallowed hard, a sense of despair gripping him.
“You must be getting old, Caswallon,” she said, “allowing yourself to be surprised by a woman.”
“Surprise, is it? When I heard the footsteps I felt it had to be a mountain troll come to life.”
She grinned at him then. “My feet are not so large. But even if they were I think I’d sooner have that than vast areas of my head losing hair.”
“Did no one ever teach you to respect your elders, woman?”
“Is it respect you want?” she asked, moving closer.
He opened his arms and held her close. “Do you still love me, Maeg?”
“I love you, clansman. Above all things. And you’re a fool to believe otherwise. Now tell me what happened to you.”
For an hour or more they sat together until he had emptied himself of words. At last she led him from the chamber to walk under the stars above Vallon.
Epilogue
Agwaine ruled the Farlain for twenty-seven years, having first led his warriors in the sack of Aesgard. The city was razed to the ground and all its inhabitants put to the sword. Thereafter peace came to the mountains.
Deva lived in Agwaine’s house for seven years, refusing all offers of marriage, her eyes constantly on the horizon—waiting for the man who would be king. One bright day in summer she was brushing her hair when she saw, in the mirror, the first grey hairs appearing at her temple. No suitor had approached her for two years now. Fear touched her and she went in search of Caswallon. She found him sitting in the sunlight in the garden behind his house, tending his roses.
Caswallon welcomed her, offering her a cup of honey mead, and she sat beside him on a long, carved bench. “What is troubling you, Deva?” he asked.
“The prophecy hasn’t come true, and if I wait much longer I shall be unable to bear children. Why hasn’t he come, Caswallon?”
“Wait? Not so fast. What prophecy?”
“When I was born, a tinker woman told me I would be the mother of kings. Taliesen told me it was true. But where is this prince who will ask to wed me?”
“Wait here,” he said, and walked slowly into the house. Deva sat in the sunshine for almost an hour, and was still there when the young Donal came walking in from the hills with the faithful hound Render beside him. Caswallon returned as the sun was setting. “I am sorry to have kept you so long, my dear,” he said. “Come, I have something to show you.”
Leading her into the house, he took a silvered mirror and placed it in her lap. “Look closely at the glass and you will see the prophecy.” Holding it up to her face she looked into her own reflection, seeing the fine lines that were appearing around her eyes. The image faded, and she found herself looking down upon the scene in the front room of the old house. Cambil was holding a babe in his arms. An old woman was sitting on the rug before the young Hunt Lord.
The woman’s voice came whispering into Deva’s mind. “She will see the great and the strong, Hunt Lord. And a future ruler will ask for her hand. If she weds him, she will be the mother of kings.”
The image faded. “I don’t understand,” said Deva. “That was my prophecy. So where is this king I have waited for so long?”
Caswallon took the mirror from her hands, then he sat beside her. “He asked for your hand, Deva, and you refused him.”
“No!” she stormed. “There has been no prince!”
“The Queen who saved us named him as her heir and he will become king. He is a warrior and a great leader—and he loved you once.”
“Gaelen,” she whispered. “He is to be king?”
“Yes. I am only sorry you did not come to me before this.”
Deva stood on trembling legs, then ran from the house. A year later she married a widower and raised three sons and a daughter.
Lennox returned twice to the Highlands, once for the funeral of his father Leofas, who died twelve years after Icairn’s Folly, and once to bring Gwalchmai home after an Outland spear cut him down at the siege of Culceister. Gwalchmai had asked to be buried above Attafoss.
Gaelen never returned. On the death of Obrin he took over as captain of the Lancers and became known as the Queen’s Champion. He and Lara lived contentedly, raising two sons and three daughters.
The clansmen served the Queen for thirty years. In the fortieth year of her reign Sigarni was called to battle by Morgase and the last great Outland army. The battle was fierce and close-run, but as always, Sigarni won the victory, leading a last charge against the shield wall. Morgase took poison rather than be captured.
The Queen’s wounds were grievous. Gaelen helped her from the field and in the last fading light of the dying sun carried her up the slopes beyond Citadel to the Chalice Cave�
��and beyond! There a young druid took charge of the Queen and Gaelen watched him half carry her toward a mountain cave.
Returning through the Great Gate, the aging warrior removed his helm and scratched at his thinning grey hair. Idly he rubbed the ancient scar above his eye.
Beyond the Gate four boys were preparing for their first Hunt. The sun was a globe of gold and the future full of promise. At that moment there was no beast, no danger, and the Aenir were a distant threat.
Gaelen turned back to stare down into the valley where the campfires blazed and the cairn was nearing completion. Below lay the bodies of the fallen, Highlander and Outlander together in death. Among them were Onic and Lennox. The giant had died swinging his massive club of iron and lead as the enemy swarmed forward. Onic had fallen beside him.
Now only Gaelen was left. “Farewell, my Queen,” he whispered.
A shadow moved to his right. He turned and there was Caswallon, leaning on his staff of oak, his robes of velvet shimmering in the moonlight.
“And so it ends,” said Caswallon, his wispy white beard swirling in the breeze like wood smoke.
“No, it begins,” said Gaelen, pointing at the cave.
Caswallon nodded. “And now you will be king, Gaelen. How does that sit with you?”
Gaelen pushed his iron-grey hair back from his eyes. “I’d give it all up to be young again.”
Caswallon turned and gestured to the Gate. “But you are young, Gaelen. Through that Gateway is a youth, who with his friends is walking the mountains. Even now the wind is in his hair, and the future is before him, bright and golden. Just a few steps away. Would you like to see him?”
Gaelen smiled. “Let us leave him to his life,” he said, taking Caswallon by the arm and leading him down the mountainside.
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