Behind the army came other armies, spreading across the horizon as a black wave. A city at the edge of the castle burned. Amid endless pillars of black smoke and red flames, fields burned. The dead lay scattered about the land and the living cried out.

  Hands clutched bitterly the cold, cold rock, while eyes swept toward the castle that stood defiantly, resisting thunderous blows upon its walls. The hollow knocking on the walls resounded in their ears and chased their thoughts.

  A valiant few protected the walls while the swarm gathered. The thrashing grew. Walls that had held secure fell away.

  The great castle and the city were not unknown to the Kingdomers. The castle and the city were Imtal, and the vision allowed much more than simple sight. The air about them filled with flames from the burning houses and land, dark smoke brought tears to their eyes and made breathing difficult. The anger and fear of the fleeing, the agony and pain of the dying, the putrid stench of scorched flesh, all flowed to them.

  Queen Mother didn’t hold back a single overwhelming emotion or sensation. Terror filled their hearts and minds, growing to the point where they just wanted it to stop so the pain would end. Almost believing that when it did end it would take them with it, and even this they would have welcomed.

  Brought to the threshold of life and survival, then to the brink of what lay beyond, Queen Mother carried them swiftly back. Latched onto only the pain, making it linger as the scene dissolved. A face, a face of untainted beauty, filled their minds. One could not stare into a countenance of such magnitude, so powerful and yet so very exquisite, for very long.

  Galan whispered, Oh my, Queen Mother, may they see your wisdom clearly.

  The Queen of the Elves shouted into their minds then, I am sorry to be harsh, but it is the only way to bring resolve! You must understand, you must see. The path can only be changed now. If you delay there can be no hope. Time is everything—and we have little to spare.

  In an avalanche of silence the pain ended, leaving most beyond the capacity for words, even the most loquacious of the group. King Andrew regretted his earlier words, and now words were beyond him.

  Father Jacob took the initiative, “I think I speak for the council Your Grace.” He looked at each of the council members, and they each in turn nodded approval. And lastly he looked to the king, who also nodded approval.

  “Your Grace,” began Father Jacob as King Andrew touched his hand and with his eyes urged the priest to sit.

  King Andrew found the courage of words in his heart. “We have heard your plea and we shall heed your warning. However you must also know that action will take time. We wish politics were a simple thing but they are not. Others will also be skeptical. The king’s word is law but we must have the backing of the alliance and our people. Without this backing our kingdom would fall before our army returns. We are convinced of the sincerity of your words. We will do what we can.”

  I trust in your word and your honor, King Andrew. Thanks to all of you gathered in council. I am afraid I must leave you now. The link has lasted overly long. My son’s spirit yearns to journey to the Father.

  * * *

  Hours passed. Vilmos floated on the breezes churning up from the valley floor. The eagle’s keen eyes scoured, expecting to find nothing, and found nothing. He was alone with his thoughts as he liked to be, alone and free.

  He was about to land and change into human form when a voice rang out in his mind and he awoke. Propelled back to reality, he sprang to his feet. A muffled noise in the distance brought him through the kitchen to the porch. As he listened close, the noise sounded like hooves upon dry leaves.

  He longed to see a single, horse-drawn coach approach with two occupants. The driver a stern-faced man with a whip in one hand and the reigns tucked in the other hand—that was how his father liked to ride. The other occupant would sit quietly beside him, her face would be gentle and kind, aged pleasantly with the years. A familiar figure did eventually approach, not from the road, but from the path that led to the forest, and not until hours later.

  All delusion faded as the beckoning voice called out. “Vilmos come!” it commanded.

  Vilmos walked to the path, saying, “I thought it was all a dream.” Something along the path caught Vilmos’ attention, but only for an instant. “How did you find me?”

  The reply came in a voice that could only be Xith’s but the figure was strange, as if Vilmos was trapped in a dream that warped the world around him, “You found me, but that is beside the point.”

  “Edward, is he…?”

  “Edward is in a good place and would be happy to know you are safe.”

  After a lengthy walk the two came to an opening that led to a point overlooking the valley. The suspicion that his life was moving in circles and that no matter how far away he went he would always come back to the same place occurred to Vilmos, just as Xith said “We’ll stop here to rest for a few moments.”

  Vilmos sat down on the ground with a thump. He was about to ask if there was anything to eat when Xith stopped him.

  “Silence!” Vilmos had only seen Xith like this once before and he didn’t like the expression he saw. He started to say something again, and again Xith cut him off.

  Xith didn’t make a sound after that or move. Vilmos knew better than to move or speak.

  A moment later Xith yelled, “Duck!”

  Vilmos fell to the ground on his belly. As he lay motionless, he had a strong feeling that he had been in this situation before. He looked to the shaman who nodded in agreement. Vilmos asked, “But why?”

  The shaman turned his eyes heavenward, seeing things that Vilmos couldn’t. He waited for a moment before responding, indicating as he did so that it was all right for Vilmos to sit back up.

  “Vilmos, life can be complicated or simple, often times you take a step forward only to find that you have taken two steps backward. Do you understand?”

  Vilmos wavered his head. He had no idea what Xith was talking about.

  “That is good,” said Xith, “don’t try to understand. It is best just to accept it. Life is a series of circles that sometimes lead you back to the beginning, so instead of giving up you must keep your head high and start again. There will be times when you are not sure whether you are in the past or the present or whether perhaps you are without time and that you are never really far away from the place you are trying to reach. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t,” admitted Vilmos honestly.

  Sullenness fell over Xith’s face and Vilmos could see dark circles under his companion’s eyes. “You will, I promise. Edward would not have sacrificed himself for you otherwise. You see, he was the first; one that was taken from me long before you. You are truly he, Vilmos, and the time will soon be upon us.”

  “You’re real,” said Vilmos. “That’s all that matters!” Vilmos grabbed Xith in a great bear hug. He couldn’t help himself. “It is good to see you, it is good to be with you again. Don’t leave me alone anymore. Promise?”

  The shaman raised his eyes to meet Vilmos’ then and as he did so a glowing orb of brilliant white appeared in his outstretched hand. In the orb, Vilmos saw the visage of the Princess Adrina and there were tears streaming down her cheeks. As the image grew clearer he could see that she sat at a great table around which many were gathered. To her left was the elf Seth, and to Seth’s left was Galan. Seth’s skin was pale and his great round eyes stared up at the heavens.

  * * *

  Queen Mother’s words hung in the air about the chamber. A tear, single and crystalline, shimmered down Seth’s cheek. Tiny though it was, it conveyed a feeling of deepest sadness.

  Galan clasped Seth’s hand tightly; his will had nearly drained away. Her heart raced and her tears flowed without end.

  Adrina gripped Seth’s other hand, feeling it grow from warm, full of life, to cool and balmy. Her anguish matched the deep unbroken lines of tears cascading down her cheeks.

  My son, you have done all that you could. You have done what you must, what you were meant to do. You shall be remembered, you shall not be forgotten, the sacrifice shall not go unaccounted for… and in a barely audible voice Queen Mother added, … may Great Father grant you passage into his very house, so that you may sit by his side, my son.

  Queen Mother’s voice faded away and the link was broken. All eyes remained in place, focusing now on Seth. A smile touched his lips at the gift of his mother, words of praise reserved only for the very great, said only at the passing of an elf king or queen.

  As he breathed his last breath the smile broadened to the corners of his lips. He fancied he could smell the kingdom garden he had been in earlier and reveled in the flow of nature he had felt.

  With that one last thought of peace, of life, and of nature, Seth collapsed to the table. No one doubted that he was indeed dead.

  Galan whispered into their minds, This is the holy light of the Great Father reclaiming his son, as are all at the last. She let the faithful see the wondrous—but otherwise invisible—shimmering light surrounding Seth’s fallen form. Few are able to see the spirit pass thus, so if you can see it, you are truly blessed. You have found faith and sincerity in your heart.

  But faith and sincerity didn’t fill Galan’s heart—anger and rage did. She was angry with Seth for doing what he said he wouldn’t. She was angry because in her mind this didn’t have to be—and if it had to be, Seth shouldn’t have been the one.

  A pitiful wail, almost a plea, filled their minds as Galan unleashed her sorrows. No! she cried out, Please, no!

  Further words were broken by long sobs, followed by an unsettling calm. Galan held back the tears and the pain. She called out again, screaming to the heavens, speaking aloud. “As such is the way of my will, I cannot allow this to happen!”

  A blast of icy air defiled the chamber. Galan reached her hands upward chasing after Seth in thought, forcing her will to take her to where the Father gathered up his son, knowing she had to hurry because the journey was almost complete.

  She pursued the last shard of Seth’s life, the tiny light hurtling upward into the heavens. Her own brilliant light, full of life, quickly caught and surpassed it.

  Father, I must, she begged. Father, hear me!

  Responding to a voice only she heard, she replied, “Yes, I understand.” These words were spoken aloud and in thought.

  The thread that guided Seth’s way severed and his soul plummeted back earthward. His spirit collided with his body, taking with it the light of Galan’s life and the place Galan occupied was suddenly empty.

  The council hall was absolutely quiet. No one moved. No one said a word.

  Many long minutes passed.

  Adrina called to guards outside the door. With their help she led Seth from the room.

  She turned back at the doorway, shouting, “You’re all fools—you can’t see! You can’t act until it is too late! Open your eyes and see the world around you! This didn’t have to be if only you had listened before!”

  Chapter Eighteen:

  Dreams of Tomorrow

  Adrina rocked back and forth. She was quiet, angry—resolved to be angry forever. The darkness was a chasm that sought to swallow her, and if it did, nothing of the woman she was becoming would remain.

  Everything she touched seemed to wither. Everything she cared about seemed to fade from the world. Why couldn’t she wither and fade away as well? It would be so easy to slip into the night and be gone from the world.

  A quiet voice behind her called out, “Adrina, come down, let’s talk about this. You can’t control what other people do or think. You aren’t responsible—we tried and that’s all we could have done.”

  Adrina spun around, the narrow brickwork of the castle wall making it difficult to keep her footing. Her long black hair fluttered in the wind. Her slender body wobbled.

  Emel turned to Myrial. “Talk some sense into her please.”

  “At times like this I would send Lady Isador to the wall. She would handle this, she’d know what to do.”

  “Lady Isador isn’t here. It’s just you and I.”

  Adrina stretched out her arms. She imagined she could float on the wind. “Come fly with me,” she whispered. “We can steal away into the night and no one will know.”

  “Adrina, you can’t fly!” shouted Emel. “You’re scaring me, please come down!”

  Adrina turned away from Emel and stared out into the darkness. “Why can’t I fly? If I can wish it, I can do it—and I wish to fly.”

  “You have no magical powers; you’re no witch or devil,” said Myrial. “You can’t fly. Only birds can fly and you’re no bird. Take my hand, Adrina. Take my hand and come down from the wall.”

  Adrina started to wave her arms. In her mind she was a bird, a bird that could fly and soar away into the darkness. “I could have done much more. I could have. Seth would have seen the truth. He would have known. Galan would be here now.”

  Myrial took a few steps toward Adrina. “Galan is gone. Nothing you do will bring her back. Everything you do up there risks your life! You’re no fool. Why would you want to end as a fool? Is that how you want to be remembered, as a fool? A girl who couldn’t take the weight of the world.

  “Let me tell you about the weight of the world, waking in dirt because there is no straw, eating food deemed unfit for the King’s pigs, being ordered about as a house slave, and I may have been the housemaster’s house slave, but he couldn’t have my heart, stop my mind from thinking or my soul from crying out. Never in all that time did I really wish to go—I wanted to live. Oh, how I wanted to live, to have the world see me as I saw the world. You gave me that chance, Adrina, a chance to become much more than I was. You never asked anything in return. You gave freely.

  “I would do the same for you if I could. I would take the weight of the world from your shoulders—I see you as you are, Adrina. I love you for what you are. I would serve you to the ends of my days. I would give my life for yours. Take my hand. Will you take my hand?”

  “Birds are free,” said Adrina. “I want to be free.”

  “Take her hand, Adrina—take my hand. We’ll walk back to your room and talk. Tomorrow we’ll visit Seth.”

  “It is already tomorrow.” Adrina sank to her haunches. Below, High King’s Square was coming to life. The early merchants were carrying lanterns, beginning to set up for the day ahead.

  In her mind’s eye she was in another time—that day she had dreamed of places far away: High Province, South Province and the Territories. Believing that she would never journey to any of them. But she had, and, just as the lady in the tower said, change came.

  She wondered what else would come true and if she could bear the weight of it. She wondered what tomorrow would bring, knowing tomorrow was already at hand.

  She stood, looked to Emel and Myrial. For a few heartbeats everything stopped. She lifted a foot from the brickwork of the wall, steadied herself as she stared down into the square. Birds could fly, so why couldn’t she?

  * * *

  Xith closed his hand around the orb, ending the vision. Vilmos turned away, looking out over the valley.

  “Do you see now why your training is so important?” Xith asked. “You’ve many more lessons to learn, but I think this latest lesson has been the most important.”

  “Is has?”

  “Yes, it has. You’ve learned much more than I had hoped and you earned the trust of one who could have easily turned his back on you. He had the opportunity, the chance to do what he was recruited to do, yet he didn’t. He saw in you what I see in you—he must have.”

  “Edward?”

  Xith stretched out his hands, arcs of blue and white lightning moving between the outstretched fingers. “Forces in opposition. If the forces touched the explosion would tear down this hill, taking us with it, and sweep through the valley below.

  “Those who don’t understand see good and evil, light and dark, positive and negative. There is always a careful balance, always a cautious dance. Which dance would you dance if you could?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vilmos. “I’m confused.”

  “Exactly, no one really knows what they’ll do when the time comes, so how can anyone try to predict tomorrow’s tomorrow with any accuracy. Sure there are those who can see the paths but the paths themselves are less important than the places they converge. In the places where the paths join, new paths can split off, creating new futures where once there were none. You and I, Vilmos, our job is to walk the paths, follow them to where they converge and make new possibilities possible. But you must believe. Do you believe?”

  “I want to learn. I want to be a mage. I don’t want you to go away again—”

  “Oh but can you say that without knowing the fate of the last human magus? Did you read of Efryadde in the Great Book? Do you remember what happened?”

  “The darkness took him and he was betrayed.”

  “Correct, both correct. I was there I should know. But the book doesn’t tell you who betrayed Efryadde.”

  Vilmos closed his eyes, trying to remember the passage from the book. In the back of his mind her heard his mother telling him “Each tale, each bit of lore, tells a lesson. Relate the lesson through the lore; it is the way of the counselor. Choose the wrong tale, give the wrong advice.”

  “You’re trying to teach—”

  “No, you’ve already learned the lesson. I’m only trying to point out something you should remember when you wake from this dream—something important.”

  “Dream?”

  “Dream. You were never really at your house, Vilmos, and you never rode through this valley. You wandered away from the inn and sprung the hunter beast’s trap. You are caught in it now, but you and I are really here together—out of body.”

  “Corpeal stasis?”

  Xith laughed. “Non-corporeal stasis, my boy, non-corporeal stasis.”