Elion put both his arms protectively over the two boys and then pushed them sharply down on the ground. Crouching between them, he covered them with his cape as best as he could while the entire structure came tumbling down on top of them all. Sparkling flakes of shifting light settled like snow upon their backs. The air was thick with the tiny pieces, all of which were bright and glittering as they gracefully fell to the ground. They could barely see through the dense veil of particles that cascaded down everywhere, though none of them were hurting them in any way. They were practically weightless as they descended, and they formed luminescent piles on the surface everywhere.
When the air cleared and they were able to look around once again, they found themselves standing on a narrow piece of land, a peninsula, that jutted out into a lake of the deepest blue. The air was warm and the breeze was refreshing and mild. The sun hung heavily on the western horizon in a totally cloudless sky. The water lapped against the narrow shoreline in rhythmic waves, almost reaching their feet, then retreating, while leaving behind effervescent particles on the stark, white sand each time.
“Where are we?” Preston asked, eyes wide.
“I do not know,” Elion responded, “But it is definitely not the outskirts of Pardatha.”
“We are in another dimension, a world between worlds,” Tomas said, staring at the surroundings. “It is what remains after Calista departed,” he commented, knowingly.
“Why are we here?” Preston inquired again. “And how do we get back?”
“Someone wants to tell or show us something. It is not coincidence that has brought us here,” Elion observed.
“Where did all the people go whose faces were pressing against the walls before?” Preston inquired.
“They were not real people, Preston. They were spirits; histories, they are called. The histories are fragments of what once was. They take on the shapes of things that lived, but they do not live. They form and break up, and reform again, much as the random patterns of sand form recognizable images with the shifting waters. The spirit and the energy that is life does not die. It changes from one form to another, and here it abounds,” Tomas explained.
“You are correct,” a voice boomed seemingly from all directions at once. “Life is not something that can be stilled so easily. It is eternally mutable, ebbing and flowing, expanding and contracting, but never diminishing.”
They all looked around searching for the source of the sound, but nothing revealed itself.
“He grabs but he does not grasp. He takes but he does not ask.”
“Who?” Elion dared to question. “Who are you speaking of?”
“He wishes to terminate the cycles, to free his spirit from becoming part of that which will return. He wants to reduce that which is constant, to diminish that which remains the same. He is so tormented that he craves dissolution and total annihilation. That darkness alone will end our world. When the Gem’s light is blocked forever, life will cease.”
“Caeltin? You speak of Caeltin?” Elion asked again.
“The Great Destroyer, the Evil One,” it said sadly. “Yes, I speak of Colton dar Agonthea.”
“Who are you?” Elion asked.
“I am not one. I am many. I am past and present. I am alive and I am dead. Come. Come and you will understand.”
Suddenly they felt like a great suction was pulling them upward by the tops of their heads. The human, the elf and the dwarf were each lifted into the air. But amazingly their bodies remained behind, below them and separate. What portion of them ascended into this world of in between they could not tell, but their awareness never abated. They watched as they left their bodies still and unmoving below.
As they rose, they saw images and faces, histories flashing by, beautiful cities and massive oceans, trees of enormous size, battles and armies and ships and animals, humans and elves, dwarfs, orcs, trolls and beasts of all kinds. And they saw the Gem, sparkling and radiating, shedding its warmth upon everything, blanketing the world with its radiance. It was magnificent. It was nestled in the trunk of the most incredible Lalas they had ever seen, and merely gazing upon it caused their hearts to leap and their blood to flow. It smoothed out the rough edges of their souls, elating them and filling them with incomparable joy.
They witnessed too, as the trees began to die and the light of the Gem dimmed. It appeared as if the branches of the First itself were shadowing it, obscuring its light and preventing it from issuing forth as it did before. They were saddened, yet they understood the necessity. It made sense to them in some strange way, and it felt right. Although the effects were devastating, they felt the great love of the First and they accepted its decision to withhold the Gem’s radiance from the world.
A sweeping blackness loomed behind them and within its sphere, nothing moved, nothing existed. It mocked them and teased them, while all the time it beckoned in a horrifying but seductive way. Fear crept into their hearts and turned their blood cold. The void expanded and they saw people and animals disappearing completely within the blackness as if they had never existed in the first place.
A great tree died and withered before their eyes, causing tears to run down their cheeks, and then a violent clash erupted as the blackness attempted to envelop it. Sparks and blue fire shot out in all directions. Thunder and bursts of uncontrolled energy accompanied the encounter, yet what lingered of the tree and the gaping void remained separate and apart. The dead tree withdrew into the earth, leaving a barren morass behind, but it did not tumble into the black hole, as did so much else as they watched. It was dead, but it did not surrender.
All the while the light from the Gem grew dimmer and the blackness swelled. Every now and then, they could see a bright spark light up a small area nearby, and they watched as it expanded and created tiny pockets of illumination amidst the darkening landscape. Those spots grew brighter and made them hopeful. They watched as the ice mountains began to melt, and they could see the rivulets cascading down the hills until the water itself erupted in steaming geysers. And they saw a field of young trees, fighting to remain upright, spreading their young branches out amidst the rushing waters. Their roots spread outwards and with amazing speed, sought out the heat that was undermining the ice floes.
They witnessed the energy building and dissipating, ebbing and flowing, clashing and breaking. Never before had their senses been assaulted by so much, yet they did not tire, nor did they despair. For some reason, there was hope yet in what they observed. Then they saw the two rings, spinning and twirling at enormous speeds, reflecting what little light remained, magnifying it and sending it outwards in cascades of radiating waves. The light grew in intensity until they could no longer gaze upon it. Their very minds were filled to the limit with the brightness; warm, beautiful and intense.
Elion awoke to the feel of a gentle hand upon his brow. Tomas knelt beside him, gazing into his eyes, smiling. Preston lay next to the elf, still asleep. Elion was weary, but he felt satisfied for some reason although his thoughts were still unclear. It took him a moment to remember the events of the recent past. As the memories slowly flashed before his mind’s eye, he looked deeply into the young boy’s eyes and smiled a knowing smile. Tomas returned it in kind. Preston regained his consciousness and then shook his head to clear it of the fog. He rubbed his forehead with his large hands and opened his dark eyes wide. When the images of his friends came into focus, he grinned from ear to ear.
They were resting upon the shore of the peninsula that marked the end of the lake, the spot where the lights first made their appearance. The sun had not yet risen, and it was no surprise to any one of them that so much occurred, yet so little actual time had passed. They each implicitly understood that what they experienced occurred outside of their world, in another realm, another reality.
Without the need to discuss what they all had gone through, they methodically gathered their belongings together, summoned their horses and prepared to depart. Deep within their breasts, the elfin Lord, the Chosen and the dwarf knew that now, for the first time, they were truly embarking on their quest. Their hearts and minds were pregnant with hope, greater than any they had fancied before, and these feelings were tempered by their memories of the hideous darkness, though nothing could ever deter them again from their course. Collectively, these three companions walked confidently out of Calista’s lands in the direction of Parth.
Chapter Twenty
Queen Esta slept restlessly, tossing and turning all night long. Her dreams were disturbing, and although she could not remember them well enough to replay them clearly in her mind, she recalled images of her daughter, of Sir Etan and of the evil Margot. She could not make sense of the context though, and she rose with an intrusive uneasiness still upon her brow. She was exhausted even before she stepped from her high, feather bed onto the rugs that covered the cold stone floor of her chamber. The sun was barely hovering above the horizon, and the air was chilly and damp. Streaks of grey clouds littered the sky and the gloom of the morning hung limply over her weary head.
She walked across the room to the leaded windows and pushed them open, allowing the air to enter unhindered. The rush of the cold against her skin did not revive her as she had hoped. Rather, it caused her to turn from the morning more hastily than she desired to.
“This does not bode well for the new day,” she said quietly to herself, crossing her arms tightly and rubbing them with her hands.
The last time she received news of her daughter, it arrived attached to the leg of a small bird, on the wings of hope. Esta replied as quickly as she could to that missive, she recalled vividly, anxious then for Filaree to know that she was well. Since that time, no additional news had issued forth from Pardatha. She could simply pray that her only child was safe and secure. Her “calling” seemed like tiels ago already, and Esta wondered if the training had begun and if Filaree was going to be successful in her efforts.
By the looks of the weather now, we will be in for a long and frightful winter if they are ineffective
, she thought.
A winter, perhaps, that will never end, she worried.
It was difficult enough to deal with the death of the trees, upsetting the balance so drastically and causing so much concern and alarm everywhere. But, to also have to contend with a rebellion against the very objects that were suffering the most, made little sense to the Queen.
Colton will do whatever he can to achieve his ends. He must be relishing the irony of the situation
, she pondered, frowning.
“Ah, Filaree. Where are you now, my dear?” she said cheerlessly to the empty room.
She poured some water from a pitcher on the large dresser into the bowl, and dipped her hands in hastily, splashing the liquid on to her face. It too failed to refresh her, though she continued to prepare herself for the new day. After drying herself with a soft cloth, she hurriedly dressed and readied herself for her visit to the chamber of Sir Etan. The potion she slipped into his goblet last evening was strong and he should still be sleeping soundly by virtue thereof, but she wished to be there when he awoke.
To have corrupted a good man so easily is worrisome. It is no wonder that the others follow Margot’s directives so readily. What can I do to mitigate the damages of this rising tide of discontent? Avalain has always remained loyal to the trees. That will not change now, in the Lalas ‘ hour of greatest need
, she vowed.
She pulled the heavy, braided cord by her bedside and Marne quickly responded to her mistress’s summons.
“Good morning, your majesty,” she said as Esta opened the door for her.
“Good morning, my dear. Though I cannot say with honesty that it looks very good from my vantage point,” Esta remarked while gazing out of the windows at the dreary weather.
“It is quite cold for this time of year, but the air remains moist nonetheless. A warm wind blows from the south as we speak. Perhaps it will take the chill off of everything soon.”
“Perhaps,” Esta mused.
“Shall I get you your morning tea, your highness?”
“No, not now, thank you. I think that I will visit our guest first. Is he quiet still?”
“Yes. I passed his chamber before I came here. I knew that you would want to know. He sleeps and the guards are outside the door at all times.”
“Good. He was quite disturbed last evening. I can only assume that when the drug wears off, he will still be agitated,” she said. “It is hard for a good man to feel compelled to do that which goes against his judgement. It must be eating him up inside. He is very conflicted. It is the torment of that inner battle that can break a person. Those who corrupt have so little concern for the damage they do. It is the wanton disregard that I cannot fathom.”
Marne remained silent and allowed her mistress to vent her thoughts and concerns upon her. She was a bright woman, brighter than any of the others in the Queen’s service. Her role in the castle was a unique one, though only a trusted few were even aware of it. As inconspicuous as she was, she served the Queen in many ways, the least of which was as a handmaiden. Their intimacy was born of necessity, as well as due to a strong mutual respect and sincere liking for one another. She spoke only when she had something worthy to say, and she would always faithfully carry out Esta’s instructions. She was as loyal as she was wise.
“The fabric weaves of its own will, my Queen. Perhaps he needed to be conflicted so that the right path would appear obvious to him after his arrival here.”
Esta lifted her regal chin and smiled at Marne.
“I hope and pray that what you suggest is in fact the case. If our modest loyalty can be a beacon for him that will illuminate the darkness that shrouds his soul, he may survive yet. He is a good man at heart. I knew that from the moment he arrived at our gates, despite his proclamations and his unusual entourage. Yet, the power that grips his soul is strong and deadly,” she replied. “What evil has been let loose upon the land, dearest Marne,” she sighed.
“How will you deal with Talamar, my Lady? Will there be war?” she asked, eyebrows arched.
“We will prepare for the worst, that is certain.”
She walked to the window once again.
“Kettin is a fool. His people are not fighters. But that woman, the Lady Margot, she is Colton’s spawn if anyone is. The weak will abide her wishes, and with a leader as spineless as the young Duke, I fear that even the cowardly would prefer to turn against their distant friends than face the enemy in their very midst. We must prevent her from spreading her evil message further than she already has.”
“I have a friend in Talamar,” Marne said modestly. “Shall I contact him and make inquiries, my Lady?”
“That would be wise,” she responded, not surprised by the question. “But, take care that he does not expose himself. It is no longer prices and quantities that motivate our queries, but matters of greater significance. If he is found out, his life may be forfeit. Our scouts have returned from the nearby regions and their reports are troublesome. There are bands of miscreants roaming the countryside from Pardeau to Talamar proclaiming their independence from the trees. Whole towns wear the green tree upon their chests and curse the Lalas. Their minds have been corrupted by lies and false images and they know not what they do. Margot has planted the seeds of discontent, and they are spreading like wildflowers upon the winds of Colton’s storm, no doubt.”
Marne bowed her head politely.
“All the more, we must learn what we can from Talamar. Fear not for my tactics, my Queen. Am I not always discreet?” she asked rhetorically. “My friend has provided us with sight where we would otherwise have been blind for nearly a tiel, and he shall do so now, in our hour of need. His services have not been necessary in a long while. I only worry that may hap he has become as indolent as the Talamarans themselves,” she replied, smiling into her dainty hands.
“If I know you as well as I believe that I do, a person whom you have placed in a delicate position would never surprise you in such a manner. Your choices have served us proficiently in the past. I expect that they will now as well.”
“I will prepare the communiques,” she said, bowing her head once again. “I would that you read them before they are dispatched, if you so wish.”
“Yes, of course. Bring them to me as soon as you can. We should delay no longer. I fear that our time of complacency has expired. It is a chill wind that blows across our lands these days, and it will not dissipate with the seasons this time,” Esta heaved a sigh. “We must act, dear Marne, and our actions will certainly provoke the Evil One himself. He will not simply sit back and allow us to weaken his ranks. The road we embark upon in the next hours and days will be fraught with peril for us all. I pray to the First for guidance in these trying times.”
“Your wisdom and trust have always served the people of Avalain well, your Highness. Have faith. Temperance must give way to action when the cause is just.”
Marne bowed respectfully and walked quietly out of the Queen’s chamber, heading toward her own. Esta watched her until she was gone, grateful for the opportunity to have such a loyal and trusted adherent to commune with in the absence of her daughter.
It was time to begin the campaign that she had pondered deeply and earnestly now since the arrival of Sir Etan. Any further delay could be dangerous for everyone. She looked in the polished glass mirror quickly, hastily adjusted her gown and her hair, and left the room.
She arrived in the Great Hall and immediately spotted Parsifal standing steadfast in the corner of the large room. As always, he was stiff and formal, fully attired even this early in the morning. Esta smiled to herself, imagining that the Knight must sleep in his armor with his weapons ready, he was so vigilant. Her smile was far from critical, though, as she had only respect and admiration for him.
“Are the Knights assembled, Parsifal?”
“Yes, my Queen.” he said.
“Good. I will address them now. Please bid them enter,” she requested, her resolve firm.
The Knight bowed deeply and left the hall to carry out his orders. Esta sat straight and tall upon the high backed, red cushioned throne of Avalain with the royal crest heavily embroidered upon the back and the arms deeply carved and decorated with scrolls of silver and gold. She hated the pomp of her office, but understood its necessity at times. Esta was a noble and stately Queen, but she felt more at home in the woods surrounding the city walls then she did sitting upon her throne of office. When her husband was alive, she happily left all the duties of state to him, and he so enjoyed carrying them out. He was an extraordinary statesman. Yet, she grasped well what needed to be done now, and ruling came naturally to her. She displayed no arrogance, and although she was firm, she was always gentle. The people loved her deeply and respected her for her wisdom and integrity.
The responsibility of office she always understood and she taught it dutifully to Filaree, who was the epitome of a resolute and loyal daughter and heir.
She will make a great leader one day
, Esta thought with pride.
I pray she returns to Avalain all the better for her journey,
she mused in the few moments she had.
The image of her stalwart daughter played tenderly before her mind’s eye. She allowed herself the luxury of drifting off into that pleasant reverie for just a short while.
The doors were suddenly thrust open and Parsifal entered noisily though not without grace, and as always his armor clanked and creaked as he walked.
“The Knights of Avalain await you, my Queen,” he said in his deep and resonant voice.
“Have them assemble here. We have work to do.”
“As you wish, your Highness,” he replied, and he turned and ushered the contingent of iron clad warriors into the great hall.
After they assembled in perfectly straight lines before the throne, Queen Esta stood and addressed them.
“As you know, my daughter, along with a group of select others to whom the calling went out, is in Pardatha waiting to depart for Seramour. You played no small part in the securing of their safety in that great city, and for that we will all be eternally grateful.” She bowed her head to the group. “The Tomes will recount your heroics justly.”
“While you were there, you witnessed the forces assembled against us now and you know well just how imperiled the good people of this land are. The abominations that Colton has let loose upon us all will not go away with one victory. It is also no longer prudent to conceal from the citizens the details of what is occurring in the south lands. It is also no longer reasonable to assume that the danger emanates only from the south any longer.”
Esta stood and stepped off the low dais that held the throne, in order to be closer to the men she was addressing. She admired them so, it moved her deeply to see them so focused, standing there and awaiting whatever orders she might give them to carry out.
“You, Tristan,” she said as she pointed to a broad-chested knight in the front row. “And you, Belgar,” she continued. “You Temian and you Dorian. All of you,” she gestured to the group, “are the best of Avalain. You make us all glow with pride. You are fighters and patriots and the most loyal. You have my eternal respect.”
She walked back to the throne in silence once more, and slowly turned and sat down upon it. Not a sound could be heard. No one moved or spoke or even breathed loudly enough to disturb the obvious solemnity of the moment. With her head bowed, she allowed the hush to reach a dramatic high before speaking again.
Esta raised her majestic head and looked the knights over once again before speaking.
“Your skill and determination will be tested in the days to come. The battle has just begun. Our borders are no longer secure. Talamar has fallen, and the countryside is rife with treason and treachery.”
She allowed the news to sink in before continuing.
“Yes, the rumors are true. An evil woman has taken possession of the reins of power in the kingdom of Talamar, and she has corrupted the good people of that nation as well. The new Duke is incapable of ruling any longer, if ever he was. He has relinquished his rights to the Lady Margot, wittingly or unwittingly. They are no longer loyal to the cause. Margot is evil, surely sent there by Colton himself, and we know not the extent of her power. We must assume that she will not remain within those borders. It is our duty to prevent her from extending her influence any further.”