“How do I return and wake from this dream?”

  “Find the truth of Efryadde, it is within you.”

  “Will you be there then for real?”

  “I will and then we will continue our travels, building the company that will change the converging paths.”

  “I want to—”

  “I must be going now but I’ll see you soon. It won’t be long, I have every confidence in you. Be strong, believe, remember our talk.”

  * * *

  Seth walked in dreams and in those dreams Galan walked with him. Together they had gone far and done things that would make such song—epic songs that he could hear elven children singing even now.

  East Reach seemed so far away, so far that memories of Kapital could have been from another lifetime. Before setting sail for the lands of Man he had never been beyond the island city of Leklorall—at least not that he could recall—and now he was a world away.

  Men weren’t like elves. They didn’t resolve to action unless action was the only recourse. They weren’t inspired. They weren’t driven to truth. They couldn’t see—and at times refused to see. He had changed that. He had, but at what cost?

  The waking dream continued and Seth saw himself standing on a high balcony looking out over a secluded part of Leklorall—the city that had once seemed the whole of his world. Galan was there with him, and she too looked out over the city. It seemed they were both waiting for something or someone, and there behind them were other elves and the Queen Mother, and they also seemed to be waiting for something or someone.

  He seemed juxtaposed between the past, the present and the future—so much so that he doubted whether this was a past event he was recalling and not some future event that should have been but now would never be. His doubt brought grief and sorrow, which fell upon his mind, body and soul like waves battering the shore of an unseen sea.

  He stumbled to his knees, raised his hands to the heavens and begged the All Father to answer his simple question of why her and not him. He should have been the one; death in service should have been his destiny. Queen Mother had charged him with this undertaking and he alone should have taken the burden.

  Through his connection to the past and to Galan, he heard words Queen Mother had directed at Brother Liyan in Galan’s presence: Good Brother, savor this feeling on a future day, but for now know that I am fully cognizant of my actions. I am the living prophet of my people, am I not? I know very well what it is I do… If I as Queen Mother, the heart and soul of my people, cannot pay the dearest of prices for the ridding of the greatest of ailments, then I, and all, fail the greatest of tests… Brother Seth is our only

  hope. He will fight to survive where others would surely succumb. Never have I seen such faith. Never have I seen such determination. He must believe he can succeed. And he must truly strive for this.

  Galan’s fading voice, followed the queen’s, and she whispered. Nothing has been decided… Believe, you must believe—there is hope. You are hope. I believe and so must you.

  He saw Galan laughing, laughing as she had before they left Kapital. She was saying You need to relax…You should join me. He would, but he wouldn’t see the world as she saw the world, each day new, each day fresh—alive.

  Alive? he asked himself, his thoughts spinning away. Galan wasn’t alive. She gave her soul for his life and her spirit would not rest in the next life now. Her spirit would never know an eternity of bliss and this was truly bitter.

  Galan continued laughing. Her eyes danced and she reached out to him but as he reached out to her the waking dream ended and she faded away, leaving him with stark reality, leaving him with the knowledge that he was the one who didn’t see, the one who moved through life with blinders.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “Thank you, I can see it now. We’ll make this right, I know it, and then I’ll sail the waters of the Gildway to the ends of my days in your stead.”

  * * *

  “Take a chance, take my hand. You don’t have to do this,” Emel said, “Things can change, you’ll see. How could you not believe that after Alderan and Quashan’?”

  Adrina stared wild-eyed at Emel. “Change? What do you know about change?”

  He started to reply, stopped, took in a deep breath. Profound awakening found him. The pilot light of the rage returned.

  Suddenly, he was back in the fields of Fraddylwicke, chasing down the elves’ attackers. He ran down three men, never stopping or looking back. They died screaming beneath Ebony’s hooves. Four others he cut down as they fled.

  Those that remained stopped running. They put up their hands, begged for mercy. There was no mercy in his heart, only rage. He was of their blood. He could sense it. He knew they could sense it too, but now it was too late.

  Fire burned in his heart. It focused his fury, his need for vengeance. “Blood for blood,” he whispered as he cut them down where they stood. He sheathed his sword, raised a bloody fist in the air.

  Ebony reared, then wheeled in a tight circle.

  He raced away. One of the men he’d left for dead called out after him. The words were a blessing, not a curse. Emel didn’t understand then and he didn’t understand now as distant voices far below the wall brought him back to reality.

  Adrina was staring down at him from atop the wall. Her eyes were wild. “I want to fly,” she said, “I want to be free.”

  “You want to fly?” Emel shouted, “Fly then! Jump into the winds!”

  Myrial’s shouts of “No, no, no,” weren’t heeded. Adrina stood tall, stretched out her arms, closed her eyes. “I believe. Do you?” she said as she leapt from atop the wall.

  “Believe,” Adrina whispered as she fell. If she believed hard enough Emel would catch her. If she believe hard enough she could make everything right again.

  She lived between heartbeats, life racing before her eyes. She moved as through a tunnel and at the end was her mother, Queen Alexandria. “Mother, I am here. Take my hand,” she called out as she fell and as her

  mother reached out to her, she reached out to her mother.

  Strange though it was, no matter how far she raced through the tunnel she couldn’t quite reach her mother—it was if unseen hands kept her away and these very same hands spun her around, shifting her until the tunnel faded from memory. But the memories and images of her mother did not fade. They remained before her eyes, as vivid and real as in life. Her mother’s scent—a hint of lilac and roses—was in the very air she breathed.

  Suddenly, she stopped and felt she could not move—nor even reach out with her hand. The world itself seemed to stop with her. “Mother,” she called out again and again as the memories and images began to fade but then as if reaching across time she heard her mother’s voice. Her mother said, “Take heart, daughter. You are an Alder. You know what you must do, what must be done.”

  Adrina tried to say something to her mother but instead of her own voice she heard Seth’s unvoiced whisper. She took my place. She thought she owed me her life for saving hers and for that she gave her soul for my life… Her spirit will never rest in the Father’s house now. It will never rest… She gave up eternity for me.

  “I understand,” Adrina started to say, but she was ripped from this dark world of half seen images and fading memories by another voice—a voice full of urgency and wrought up with pain and concern.

  “Adrina? Adrina?” called out Myrial. “Adrina, say something please.”

  Adrina opened her eyes, realizing then that her lungs burned. She sucked at the air, the first breath heavy as it traveled through her throat and into her lungs. She exhaled, breathed in again, waited.

  “Talk to me,” said Myrial. “Can you hear me?”

  Adrina’s eyes were wide, wild. She tried to sit up., tried to speak. Emel held her in place. Finally she found her voice and asked, “What happened?”

  “You jumped, you fool,” said Myrial. “Thank Great Father you had the good sense to jump to Emel and not to the square.”

  Adrina winced from Emel’s firm grip. He seemed to suddenly realize he was squeezing her arms so hard there’d be bruises. He let go, squeezed his eyes together and shook his head as if warding off something, then said, “We tried to catch you. But all we could do was break your fall. You got the wind knocked out of you.”

  “I wanted to fly… I believed… My mother, I saw my mother. And I’m not?”

  “No you’re not, most certainly not. Do you think we’d let you do something so stupid?” Myrial sat down as reality suddenly sank in. “You had us worried to death. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  “I’d’ve missed you terribly,” said Emel. “You great fool—idiot.”

  “Fool? Idiot? Hmm…” Adrina pouted.

  “Now that’s the temperamental Adrina I know!” said Emel.

  Adrina bit back a laugh. “I did look a fool, didn’t I?”

  “A grand fool,” said Myrial. “You won’t do that again?”

  Adrina tried to stand. Emel and Myrial helped her. As she gave both a hug, wiping her sudden tears away, she smelled lilacs and roses all around her. “I won’t,” she whispered but as she said those words there was deep doubt in her and it took great effort to cast that doubt away.

  “Promise?”

  Adrina frowned, it was an honest response so she repeated it and so saying, she took Emel’s hand, Myrial’s, then walked away. She led them to the watchtower which wasn’t far away. The scent of lilacs and roses followed her—almost as if her mother walked with her.

  The sun would be up soon. She wanted to see the brilliant blues, greens and reds that only an autumn sunrise could bring—and she wanted to share this splendor with Emel and Myrial.

  The new day brought remembrance and hope. Remembrance of those lost and hope for tomorrow’s tomorrow. Adrina knew unequivocally as she watched the rising splendor that Galan’s sacrifice held a significance she didn’t completely understand but would come to know better than her own foolish attempt to make things right in the world.

  The End

 

 

  Robert Stanek, Pawn of Dragons

 

 

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