by Terry Brooks
Leofur?
I’m still here.
Talk to me. It helps me…steady myself.
We fought the witch, Chrys and I, and she’s dead. We’re safe, both of us.
That’s good. You…weren’t hurt?
No. Banged up a bit, but not really hurt. And you? How bad is it? What happened?
The changing. It just kept…I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t even slow it. One form after…another.
He coughed—a kind of gasp. I couldn’t…do anything to control it. I was flying into things…slamming into them…trying to stop…but nothing helped. I shape-shifted over and over…a thousand times. I was fighting just to…to keep from drowning in the lake…or being eaten by…
More coughing. I think I have bones…broken. I’m hurting so bad…
There was a pause, then: I feel like it…might happen…again soon. The changing. Don’t know…how to stop it. Leofur, I’m afraid.
Don’t be. I’m here. We’re coming for you.
It’s so…awful. I’m trapped in…my own body. I’m helpless.
Listen to me. You’ve stopped the changing. You’re tethered to me now. Just stay calm and listen to my voice. Just…She hesitated. Just think about us.
Chrys was looking at her strangely, brow furled. As if she had heard Leofur’s unspoken communication. Leofur made a dismissive gesture and turned away.
Are you there?
Did you…just say…?
Never mind what I said. You don’t need to repeat it. Just know I meant it. Keep talking. Stay calm. Wait for me. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself. Tell me everything.
He began doing so, revealing things he had kept hidden until now. He talked about his childhood and then the years after the deaths of his parents when he was forced to go out into the world and make his way while hiding his secret life. He held nothing back, confessing everything. He opened up to her about all that had happened, all that he had endured before he became afraid for himself and his use of shape-shifting and sought help from the Druids.
His voice was growing weaker, a coarseness settling into it that was troubling. All the while he had been talking to her, she had pushed ahead, Chrysallin at her heels, trying to reach the bower. They had passed all the most familiar landmarks, including the place on the lakeshore where she had hidden and listened to the boy Olin die at the hands of Melis. Now she was frightened she was bearing witness to another death. It made her more determined, more insistent on pushing back against her weariness.
Imric, we are getting closer.
Perhaps it was the truth, perhaps not. How could she be sure? But he needed to feel she was near, that help was at hand. What sort of help she could provide once she reached him, she wasn’t sure. What difference would it make to his debilitated condition if she was there in person as opposed to being there by virtue of the tether? This race against time could easily be for nothing.
His voice broke into her thoughts, ragged and sad. I feel the change…coming on. The witch. Her magic. So strong. Overwhelming. I don’t know…what else to do…to stop it.
Push back against it! I just need a little more time, Imric! Just a little!
Don’t think…I can give it. Don’t think…I can…
Silence. Imric! Answer me!
Good-bye, Leofur. I…love…
No! You can’t do this! Imric!
The silence lengthened. Leofur screamed into the dark emptiness of the swamp.
—
They found him less than an hour later, sprawled within the bower, masked by the curtains and the darkness. Leofur slowed as she neared, afraid she would find what she already suspected to be true. She pushed aside the curtains and her heart stopped. He was still in his human form, still recognizable as himself, but he was not breathing. She knew at once he was dead.
She knelt beside him, leaning close. “Imric,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his face.
His skin was cold, his body lifeless. She reached down and took him in her arms, pulling him against her. “It isn’t fair! I came for you!”
She felt him stir, and it nearly undid her. “Imric?”
“Still…here.”
“I thought…”
“Almost…but your…”
“Don’t talk. Chrys! Can you find something to wrap him in? He’s freezing!”
“…your voice…kept me…from giving in…”
She held him tighter, crying hard now. “Shhhh. Shhhh.”
Behind her, she heard Chrysallin ripping down one of the curtains, tearing it loose from its fastenings. Working together, the women wound the fabric about his body. Then, while Leofur continued to hold him, cradling him against her, Chrys set about rubbing his hands and feet in an effort to bring life back into his chilled body.
“Better,” he murmured to Leofur, nuzzling into her. “Always was…with you.”
“I thought you were gone. I was so sure I couldn’t reach you in time.”
“…waited for…you. Hung on…until…” He coughed roughly. “…knew you would…reach me…”
She kissed him impulsively. Full on the lips, passionate, needful. She had crossed another bridge, and she wasn’t coming back. “You had more faith than I did.”
“I…don’t…” Another cough. “No one has…more faith…in me…than you.”
“Don’t die, Imric. Please, don’t.”
“Won’t…now.”
“Promise?”
“I…promise.”
She held him for the remainder of the night, refusing to let him go, unwilling to take the chance that by doing so she would release him from this life into the next. Chrysallin sat with her for a long time before eventually falling asleep. The hours slipped by as Leofur held Imric and listened to his breathing, assessing his condition from his movements and sounds, on guard against anything that suggested he was getting worse. She kept telling herself he was returning to her, that he wasn’t letting go, that death would be pushed back by life. Her thoughts drifted in the long, slow hours of predawn, replaying in hazy snippets the times they had shared, the hardships and struggles they had met and overcome. She thought about how willingly he had given her what she needed, even at repeated risk to his life. She was stunned by the enormity of what he had sacrificed for her, and she knew she would never be able to repay that.
And then, in an unexpected flash of understanding, she knew she was looking at it in the wrong way. This wasn’t about repayment. It was about his feelings for her and hers for him. What would she do, now that she had him back safely? The answer had been there all along, yet she had not recognized it or perhaps simply had not been ready to embrace it. But the tether had revealed it clearly, its truth born out of the closeness that link had entailed. She understood for the first time the consequences of the one risk she had dismissed in agreeing to his help, the same risk that Sarnya had ignored in her own tethering. Without trying and even without knowing what she was seeking, she had found with Imric Cort what she had been searching for all along, from the time she was a little girl until this very moment.
She had found where she belonged.
When he woke, it was nearly dawn. He opened his eyes to find her still cradling him, blinked away the last of his sleep, and gave her a wan smile. He glanced over at Chrysallin, sleeping nearby, her breathing deep and even, and then back to Leofur.
“I knew…you wouldn’t…leave me,” he whispered, soft enough so that only she could hear.
She felt herself smile in response. She bent down and kissed him gently—on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere. “No,” she said, as she continued kissing him. “I won’t ever leave you.”
The day was already well advanced when Paxon and Miriya set out in pursuit of Arcannen Rai, tracking him south toward the Kennon Pass and then west along the Mermidon River and out into the grasslands of the Streleheim. Miriya used her magic to search the air currents for traces of thruster exhaust from recent vessels on the air currents, thereby determining t
he direction of any airship passing down the corridors they were following. It was simple enough to find Arcannen’s craft within Paranor’s boundaries because, once past the Keep, it was the only vessel that had departed the area recently. Even down through the Kennon Pass to where it veered west, the airship was easily traced.
Only after it moved out into the open spaces of the Southland below the Dragon’s Teeth and then west did the trail begin to fade more quickly. The vessel’s heat and particle displacement grew less stable the more exposed it became to wind and weather, so there was some danger they could lose the trail entirely. But the cruiser they were using was much swifter than the one Arcannen had taken, and they were able to make up ground so quickly they soon had him in sight.
“Look at his ship,” Miriya said. “Look at how it’s flying. You must have done some damage to it after all.”
“Another hour, maybe less, and we’ll be on top of him,” Paxon muttered.
The vessel’s thrusters were seated all the way forward, and the parse tubes were wide open. Their efforts at gaining on the sorcerer were measurable by eyesight alone, so estimation by other means was not required. All they needed to do was keep flying at the same speed and without interference from another aircraft and they would catch him.
“What do we do when that happens?” Miriya asked, leaning in to be heard above the rush of the wind.
Paxon looked at her. “I know what you’re thinking. But we need him alive to prove to the Federation that he was responsible for what happened to their ministers, so we try to keep him that way.”
“Just so you know, I don’t intend to let him get away again. No matter what. This stops here, whether he lives or dies.”
Paxon nodded. “Don’t worry. He won’t get away.”
The sky ahead was clear, empty of clouds, a bright backdrop against which Arcannen’s airship was clearly outlined. Behind them, the horizon was turning dark as night began to creep out of the east, swallowing what remained of the daylight. Paxon judged they had another hour before darkness began to set in, but even in deep twilight they would be able to find Arcannen easily enough.
He thought about what it would take to bring the sorcerer to bay—a daunting prospect. He had faced him before, once by himself and a second time with Avelene. Both times, Arcannen Rai had gotten the best of him. And both times, friends had died. He knew better than to take anything for granted on this third attempt, even with the vastly more experienced and skillful Miriya to back him up. Arcannen would fight back using every weapon he could call upon and every trick he could conjure. He would try to kill them; he would not hold back. He had no reason to keep them alive, as they did him. He would try to find a weakness and exploit it. But Paxon was not the youth he had been before. He was mature and experienced and had far better command of his magic. No matter what Arcannen tried, he would find the Highlander ready.
“What’s he doing?” Miriya asked suddenly.
Paxon shifted his gaze to a direct focus on the airship they were pursuing. At first, he couldn’t be sure what she was talking about. But then he realized the airship was fading away. It was growing steadily less distinct against the sky, losing shape and color. It had begun a slow sweep north, dropping earthward in a way that suggested something was wrong.
“Is he out of power?” Miriya snapped. “But then, why is he disappearing? What’s happening to him?”
Paxon didn’t know, but it was apparent they were going to lose sight of Arcannen in the next few seconds. “Start tracking his exhaust again,” he told her. “Find him the way you did before.”
He tried to draw further power from the diapson crystals, but they were already giving everything they had. No matter what he did, they were still too far away to close on the sorcerer before he disappeared entirely.
Seconds later, he was gone. The sky ahead was empty, the airship vanished.
“Shades, his magic is dark, indeed!” Miriya hissed. “But an airship leaves a displacement residue, dark magic or no, and I can track it!”
Brave words, Paxon thought, not at all certain she could.
They continued their search for what was now an invisible presence, Miriya giving directions as she read the air currents and measured heat and particle disruption with a sure and steady application of her magic. Paxon worried aloud that, now that he was invisible, the sorcerer might swing back around, turn his airship’s weapons on them, and knock them out of the sky. But Miriya assured him Arcannen couldn’t manage such a trick; keeping the airship invisible would require all of his power and concentration. It was possible he might use his invisibility to try to get behind them, but since she was aware of this chance she would be watching for it. He would not catch them unprepared.
Again, Paxon wondered.
Below, the land turned rugged and barren, a mix of broken earth and shattered rocks dotted with isolated patches of scrub and small stands of trees. To the east, the Mermidon rolled through the countryside, broad and swift.
Ahead, a large island came into view, the river flowing past it on both sides, leaving it marooned midstream.
“Slower,” Miriya said suddenly.
Paxon pulled back on the thrusters, eyes searching the sky’s dark blue sweep, finding it empty even of clouds. There was nothing to see. He glanced over at his companion but she was engaged in a series of intricate hand movements. Her eyes were closed. It gave him pause.
“Can you actually tell anything that way?”
“More than you can with your eyes open. Now stop talking.”
He held the airship steady, leaving her to it but scanning the sky on his own nevertheless. Night was creeping closer. East, it had swallowed the Dragon’s Teeth and was advancing at a steady pace.
“He’s gone all the way down,” she said quietly. “He’s landed.”
“Where?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“What do you want to do?”
She shook her head in frustration, her eyes opening. “Find him, of course. He’s down there somewhere.”
Paxon searched the landscape, his gaze settling on the island. “I know this place. That’s where the city of Kern stood hundreds of years ago, before the Warlock Lord destroyed it. All that’s left are ruins.” He looked over at her. “That’s where he is. In the ruins.”
He couldn’t explain why, but he sensed that Arcannen, who had lived so long in the ruins of Arbrox, would find a certain comfort in seeking protection from the ruins of Kern. It was the sort of refuge where he could make a stand and feel he had an advantage.
He swung the airship toward the island, drawing the thrusters back even farther to slow their approach. “He’ll be waiting for us.”
She laughed. “Do you think so?”
“He’ll watch us land and know where we are. He’ll be able to come at us from any direction he chooses.”
“You aren’t afraid, are you, Paxon?”
“I’m wary. I’ve fought him twice. I don’t relish doing it a third time. But that doesn’t change what’s going to happen.”
“You can be certain of that. Just remember what I said about him. He doesn’t get away, no matter what.”
The way she said it left no doubt about what she intended. She wanted Arcannen dead, and Paxon wasn’t sure he could prevent it from happening, her promise notwithstanding. Her rage over Karlin Ryl’s fate was too intense to be contained, her need to sate it too strong. She would spin out of control at some point, and if it happened at the wrong time it would doom them both.
But he let his opportunity to caution her pass. It was too late now to say anything further and expect that it would make a difference. He had already warned her what was at stake. Either she would do what was needed or she wouldn’t. Miriya could be volatile, and she had no particular reason to pay attention to him. Certainly not here, where her anger burned white-hot.
They rode the air currents down, and just as they reached a point where they could make out the tumbled walls and collap
sed towers of Kern through the encroaching darkness, they spied Arcannen’s craft. It was settled in the center of the ancient city, in an open space between a pair of shattered buildings. They set down next to it, looking everywhere as they did so, waiting for the expected attack.
But it did not come. Arcannen was nowhere to be found, and the city felt empty and abandoned. Everything was silent in the hush of twilight. Once on the ground, Paxon locked down the controls to prevent tampering, and they climbed out of the pilot box and stood amid Kern’s remains.
“How do you want to go from here?” Miriya asked him quietly, deferring to his experience.
He paused, considering. “Can your magic help us?”
“I don’t think so, not with finding him. He will have countered already any attempt I might make.” She hesitated, glanced over. “But maybe he will have failed to erase all physical signs of his passing.”
“Maybe.” It was possible the sorcerer might not have thought to disguise those since it was almost dark and he was more worried about Miriya’s magic than leaving tracks. “It’s worth a look.”
He walked over to the sorcerer’s airship and circled it slowly, searching for prints. He found them almost immediately, heading off into the ruins at what appeared from the length of the stride to be a swift pace.
He beckoned her over and pointed. “Ready?”
“Just worry about yourself.”
He took the lead, following the small signs of Arcannen’s passage into the rubble, searching the dark corners and layered shadows, worried that darkness was coming on too fast and would soon leave them blind. But there was no help for it. They had to be cautious in their efforts, aware of the peril if they acted in haste. Arcannen was too dangerous.
They wound through the crumbling walls of the dead city. Paxon kept one eye out for signs of the sorcerer’s passage and one eye on the ruins surrounding them. Miriya was doing something new with her magic, using hands and words to summon it. The Highlander guessed she was setting up a shield to try to protect them against a surprise attack—her way of giving them a chance to respond.
