Echoes of the Fourth Magic (19 page)

They set a leisurely pace in Avalon—no need or want to rush in this truly glorious wood. The trees stood tall and straight and the leafy ceiling layered thick, but unlike Blackemara, the forest of Avalon was not a gloomy place. It was full of clear flat paths to follow, with sunlight streaming in everywhere, flowing around leafy branches and warming the earth, and speckling the ground along the trail with the most interesting shadows. And, oh, the colors! Wildflowers of white, red, violet, gold, and every hue imaginable clustered at every turn, filling the air with their rich scents.

And the grass showed the deepest, truest green, primeval in its purity, as if it was the original conception of the color. All the greens of Del’s world seemed but cheap imitations of it.

This was a place for poets and lovers, an unblemished dreamscape of colors and aromas that stirred the senses to new levels of awareness. And it was a clean place; no ghouls lurked behind the trees of Avalon. Being here, Del felt that he better understood the rangers. Nurtured on the fruits of this perfection, a man could only grow strong and
true. He was overwhelmed by the forest. Billy, he noted, was overwhelmed, too, but it seemed that Reinheiser had other things on his mind and hardly noticed their surroundings, and Mitchell held on stubbornly to his anger and his envy.

Wildlife abounded. Rabbits, squirrels, even an occasional deer or wild pig turned a curious eye as the party passed, and countless birds squawked and chattered in the branches like gossiping old ladies, spreading the word that strangers were about in the wood. One animal in particular caught Del’s eye, a large squirrel hopping along the branches, apparently following the party. Del had the strange feeling that this was the same squirrel he had seen in Blackemara, and he was more than a little curious about it.

He trotted his horse up beside Belexus. “That squirrel is following us.”

Mitchell closed in on the pair, tilting his ear in their direction.

“Hush about it,” Belexus whispered. “Pay it no heed.”

“But I saw that same squirrel in the swamp,” Del continued, copying the ranger’s respectful whisper.

“And I’ve seen too much of it!” Mitchell announced loudly.

Del gave a groan, for he had seen this before from the captain, and certainly understood the man’s motivations. Recognizing the ranger’s reverence for Avalon and her inhabitants, the captain now saw an opportunity to vent his seething frustration and truly outrage both Belexus and Andovar.

Mitchell slid from his horse and picked up a stone. “Where are you?” he yelled to the trees. As if in answer, the squirrel hopped to an open branch and cocked its head curiously.

Mitchell smiled wickedly. “Your ass is mine,” he growled, and raised his arm to throw.

“No!” Del screamed, every instinct within him revolted by such an act. He leaped from his mount and crashed in
just as Mitchell brought his arm forward, and the stone skipped harmlessly wide of its mark. The infuriated captain regained his balance quickly, intent on pummeling Del, but Belexus and Andovar were already between them.

“By the Colonnae!” Belexus roared. “In troth ye be a fool to huv done such a thing! Avalon opens her arms wide to friends—” He stopped as Mitchell met his shock with a stare of open challenge—and how the ranger wanted to accept that challenge! Realizing he was bound otherwise, Belexus settled for a warning that came out unmistakably as a threat. “She welcomes friends, Mitchell, but keep me words, she destroys enemies!”

Together they turned to the squirrel. It sat motionless on the branch for a moment, taking in the scene, before it skipped away, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

“At least the smelly rat’s gone.” Mitchell laughed.

“Swallow yer words!” Andovar shouted, his ire dashing all reason. Quicker than the ancient ones could follow, the ranger’s sword was out of its scabbard and the tip in at Mitchell’s throat. “Or defend yer crooked mouth with yer life!”

“Hold, Andovar,” Belexus ordered calmly. “By the Prophetics and our quest, ye huv no’ the right to do this.” Andovar paused a moment, weighing the consequences. He sheathed his sword grudgingly without releasing the captain from his penetrating glare.

“Ye huv chased away one animal,” Belexus said. “But the eyes o’ the wood are not few and sure to be watching even more closely now.”

Mitchell tried vainly to hide his terror at how easily Andovar could have killed him. He ignored the ominous stare of Belexus and turned to Del, a less formidable foe.

“I’ll remember this, DelGiudice,” he growled threateningly.

“Oh, so will I,” Del retorted in the same tone. “I’ll remember all of it.”

Mitchell gave an angry snort, obviously surprised that
Del would again stand up to him so blatantly, and went back to his horse. But the mare would not let him near, and the other mounts shied away from him as well.

“Beasts of Avalon,” Andovar explained with a chuckle of deep satisfaction. “Ye’ll be walking.”

Mitchell did just that. He walked with his head held high in proud defiance of the wood, and he did not speak another word that day.

They all went on in silence throughout the afternoon, and soon enough the sheer beauty and wholesomeness of the wood had Del feeling happy again.

Such was the power of Avalon to heighten the awareness of friendly observers that they might recognize a harmony here that transcended the normal and took on almost magical proportions. The forest possessed a twofold beauty, both simple and profound: simple in the dances of the animals on the ground and in the trees above, in the constant flow of songs from countless birds, in the unified craning of a group of wildflowers seeking out the patches of sunlight that sifted in through the branches of towering oaks. And yet it was the deeper sense of order, the profound beauty of Avalon, that overwhelmed Del. The realization that every single being that lived and grew here belonged to a system that was delicate yet ever enduring, and so complete and balanced that it reflected the orderly perfection of the universal scheme.

He felt all of that, profoundly, and wanted desperately to be a part of it.

They made camp in a small glen as the sunset pinkened the sky behind them. The tops of several of the closer mountains remained visible to them, and once again the group was treated to the sparkling spectacle of the micariver fires on the Crystal Mountains.

The stars came bright and clear when the cold dark closed in, but soon dimmed as the full moon peeked his silvery face through the valleys between the mountains in
the east. The air grew chill, but not uncomfortably, for a gentle wind came up from the south.

Something about this budding evening flickered recognition in Del’s heightened senses. “Am I wrong,” he asked with a puzzled look, “or is this the same night that we saw in Bellerian’s room?”

“It does look the same,” Reinheiser agreed, and he, too, wore a puzzled expression.

“It feels the same,” Del said.

“Might that it be,” Andovar said. “ ’Tis in the power of the magic o’ the Emerald Room to huv foreseen this night.”

“Suren’s to be beautiful, then,” Belexus said. “But we canno’ keep our eyes open to it, for the road is yet long before ye and moren so if ye’re weary. Now is the time to sleep.”

Lulled by the rustling leaves and the wind’s mournful song, they complied almost immediately, except for Andovar, keeping watch, and Del. Though Del was certainly comfortable in this enchanted wood, sleep would not come to him. As he settled down for the night, the bone case that Bellerian had given him caught his attention and pulled incessantly at his curiosity. He realized that he should be stronger than the temptation, but with all the wonders going on about him, he couldn’t resist.

Finally he gave up trying to sleep and walked over to where Andovar sat patiently. Del couldn’t help but chuckle as he approached, for as he suspected, the ranger’s eyes weren’t turned outward against any threat from the wood, they were fixed squarely on Captain Mitchell.

“I’m not tired,” Del explained when he got to the small fire. “I’ll take the watch if you’d like.”

“Nay, the watch is mine,” Andovar replied. “The soft nights of Avalon are me deepest love and I do’no’ weary from riding. But I would welcome your company.” He motioned a friendly invitation for Del to sit.

“I’d like that, too,” Del said, returning the ranger’s warm look. “But first, if it’s all right, I’d like to take a walk. The
woods don’t scare me; they seem to call to me. And the moon is bright.”

“Ye huv the makings of a good ranger.” Andovar laughed, studying Del’s face. “Me friend, there be a sparkle in yer eye as I huv seen before. So ye’ve seen it, huv ye? The magic o’ the wood.”

Andovar’s ability to see right through him embarrassed Del, and he blushed deeply.

“Ayuh,” the ranger continued, “she’s shown ye the beauty and health of the place—the strength o’ the trees and the richness o’ the earth below. Know yerself a lucky man.

“Go take yer walk, then, and enjoy the wood. But do’no’ stray too far. A man might get lost even in a friendly wood!” As Del started off, Andovar called after him, “Keep the fire in yer eyes!”

Del smiled, assured by the ranger’s friendly and calm tone. He did indeed keep the fire in his eyes, though moving far away, and soon found a break in the trees that let in enough moonlight to read by. He pulled the bone case from under his cloak, his eyes wide and his hands sweating.

I shouldn’t do this
, argued his conscience.

But his conscience was no match for his curiosity.

“Bellerian didn’t say I couldn’t look at it,” he rationalized, and before his conscience could argue back, he popped off the cap and pulled out a scroll, trembling as he slowly unrolled the parchment.

The first thing Del noticed were sketches of a man going through various motions. “It must be some kind of magic spell,” he whispered happily, for that was what he had hoped.

But his excitement turned to frustration when he saw the runes. They were a wizard’s writings, of course, and try as he might, Del could not make any sense of them at all. He studied them for a few moments longer, hoping that some magic within the runes would reward his perseverance. Nothing happened, and so, with a sigh, he put the scroll away and started back to camp.

But then he heard the music.

It floated on the wind through the trees, the clearest bell that ever rang, the sweetest music ever heard. It drew Del’s heart, pulled him uncontrollably within the sphere of its notes and led him away from the camp, out of sight of the fire. But he didn’t care—following the course of that harmony became his only concern.

He came to a row of pine trees on a small banking. The singer—no, it was more than a singer, he understood—was close now, perhaps just over the rise. Belly-climbing to the top, Del cautiously peeked out around one of the trees, to find that he lay on the edge of a wide field blanketed with plush grass and lined on all sides by thick pines. Scattered patches of wildflowers added a preternatural touch to the scene, surrealistic wisps of dull color in the silvery moonlight.

But Del hardly noticed the field, for his gaze fixed upon the heart of Avalon’s song, a hauntingly beautiful woman dancing carelessly in the moonlight, leaping high into the air and floating down gently, a leaf in autumn, caught by currents of unseen breezes. She wore a black, flowing gown with many layers of gossamer that displayed, with every twirl and rushing leap, her graceful form in ghostly silhouette; and as she descended from her latest entrechat, a silken cape floated behind, a shadowy extension accentuating her mysterious essence. Her skin shone creamy and porcelain smooth, and her thick hair floated about her shoulders, a golden mane so rich in color that even the quiet light of the moon could not diminish its luster. And her green eyes sparkled a light that could penetrate even the blackest night.

Lithe as any ballerina, her moves as distinct and meaningful, yet she moved in a manner less rigid and precise, more in tune with the natural flow of her spirit. Del could sense the joy of that spirit. He could feel the cool, moist evening grass under her bare feet. And he felt the free rush of air as she rose in yet another great leap, ascending on
a moonbeam and floating gently, delicately, back to the earthen realm of mere mortals.

Del watched entranced as the minutes passed and the woman tirelessly continued her dance. Suddenly she stopped and stood staring in his direction, her eyes wide with surprise.

No way she can see me in this light at this distance, Del reasoned. Yet, all logic aside, he knew that she had sensed his presence and could indeed see him.

Cautiously, the woman walked across the field toward Del, stopping a mere dozen yards away. Leaning over to get a better view of him, she brushed her thick hair back from her face, and Del saw a sparkle of green in the middle of her forehead, though he could not discern its source.

He wondered whether he should run away or simply stand up and introduce himself. But any choice he might have made became irrelevant, for a combination of awe, even to the point of fear, of this mysterious woman before him, and a deeper passion, one that was wonderfully new to him, rooted him to the ground and rendered his tongue useless.

The woman studied the area around Del for a few seconds, then seemed to relax, apparently satisfied that he was alone. And her gaze probed deeper. Del felt naked before her green eyes, certain that she could read him to the very core of his soul. And yet, when he grew uncomfortable, she seemed to read that, too, and immediately broke off her examination and looked at him apologetically.

Del longed to know this woman who was so perceptive and responsive to his feelings. He felt kindred to her spirit, and prayed that she shared those feelings. As if in response to his silent hopes, the woman lowered her eyes and turned a blushing smile, and with a sudden burst of energy like a child breaking free of its embarrassment, she began spinning around, her form blurred by the floating layers of her gown. Around and around she twirled, faster and
faster. And then she leaped from the spin onto a moonbeam and simply vanished into the evening air.