“Is this Kanzas?” Rhys asked.
“Toto, we’re not even in Oz anymore.”
Epilogue
Archmage Taliesin approached the large, glass balcony doors leading off the main chamber of his quarters and stepped outside. The wind was strong in the cool of the evening, and the sight of Iomara coming to life in the darkness was like watching a kindling flame. Taliesin had to admit to a certain pride in his city. She soldiered on, even as the rest of the kingdom struggled with uncertainty. The view was truly magnificent, and with a note of regret he thought of how little he had opportunity to enjoy it.
Try as he might, Edouard simply was not meant to be king.
A stir of activity exploded at the palace gates. The watch rushed to pull them open, admitting a ragged knot of people. Taliesin gripped the banister of his balcony very hard. Less than a dozen souls out of all those who went in search of Princess Maelyn.
Oh, ho, what is this? They returned with an extra. He appeared to be a tall, thin youth with blue eyes and a bristle of blond hair that he repeatedly ran his hands across. He also often rubbed a finger along his nose, as if pushing up a pair of spectacles, though as the youth gazed about the courtyard like a youngling at a country fair, there seemed to be nothing wrong with his vision.
Taliesin considered summoning the youth, but decided against it for the moment. He saw Captain Meryl among the survivors, and no doubt the good captain would make his report soon. Taliesin was glad to see that he hadn’t lost yet another loyal man.
Meryl turned his eyes upward, toward Taliesin’s balcony, and held high a battered pack, formerly belonging to one Rhys, Death Wind of Alta.
Success.
From the pocket of his cloak, Taliesin produced a small pouch, saturated with spells of preservation and protection. He opened it and withdrew a sleek black device. With an ease of long practice, he turned it on and selected a certain application.
A young woman’s face appeared on the small screen, framed with deep pink hair. “Well, we’re alive and we’re not stuck on the bridge. But as best we can tell, we’re now lost in space.”
***
***
On the floor of the tower, smoke curling through the room, the Blood Prince’s corpse twitched. Its eyelids fluttered, then its muscles convulsed as a new entity took up occupancy. A moan tore from its throat. The body felt so heavy after so many years on the brink of nothingness. The vampire’s blood flowed sluggishly in its veins, its lungs drawing oxygen reluctantly. Its lips curled into a smile over its fangs.
Freedom.
Keystone (Gatewalkers) Page 27
