Kerrigan warned him, but nothing could have prepared him for this. A chair appeared right in front of him. He reached out for it. Sweet air filled his nostrils and his head grew lighter.
It sat in a sea of churning water, frothing and bubbling all around it. Not solid. His fingers passed through its surface. Something here. The touch balanced him and he turned and sat upon it. It caressed his legs and lapped over his fingers. His thighs melted into it and it covered him. He leaned back and it cushioned him. Water! It’s water, not stone. The chair moved as he moved, conformed to his body’s contours, washed his ears, bathed his eyes, filled his nose. Warm. Beautiful. He leaned his head back against it, and it entered his mouth, embraced him inside and out. The Lalas accepted him.
Walls of water cascaded down around him. Mist drifted cloudlike in the air and with each breath his lungs filled with the fragrance of life. His body absorbed it, became one with it.
The water’s alive. It glowed and the song of the Lalas reverberated in his head.
Everything moved, everything shifted constantly, never the same… always the same. He chose one spot upon the water-wall and he stared at it. As if the act of concentration itself parted the waters and allowed him to see, the surface beneath came clear. He gasped, ecstatic. And he saw it. The ends of the trunks of a million trees formed the massive walls. Water rushed over them all. Beautiful. So beautiful
The more he saw, the more the Chamber revealed. Roots. That’s what they are. Not trunks. The ends of the roots. The water bathed them and as it surged over their tips, the friction made them resound. The song of the Lalas. Finally, he understood.
He reached out his hand. Two rings hovered before his eyes and his fingers passed right through them. A boy’s face came into view. He had never seen it before but he knew who he was. Davmiran. Behind it, on top of it, inside of it another. Tomas. His green eyes sparkled through the rushing water.
Four figures loomed in the distance, pairs walking from opposite ends on a stretch of sand. A rock rose from the water and fire shot from the sky. His ears rang with the song of the Lalas and his skin prickled at the touch of the water. A great Lalas imploded upon itself and disappeared into a chasm in the earth. Pain seared him. Emotion washed over him with the waves. The water burned and the music became discordant and harsh. A Chosen lay motionless against a stone, his sword across his chest. Tears rolled off his cheeks and mingled with the waves.
Three elves marched through the woods, side by side. Familiar. I know them… they vanished before he could remember. The song became a funeral dirge and the waters grew dark and murky.
A new image rose up, obscuring those that came before. The youngling, in its glory, stretched its limbs out toward him. Have to touch it. He thrust out his arm. The vision grew sharper, more defined. His fingers couldn’t reach. The tree grew before him, spreading in all directions. Ahhhh, he sighed.
Another seed sprouted. He felt it burst through the surface. Birth. Life. Silver leaves unfurled, opening to the sun.
The Lalas yearned for the youngling. He felt it in the music. They’re calling. Hear them. Voices calling. It drew close to Tallon, close to the Chamber of the Roots, reaching out for sustenance.
Something dirty pushed against the far reaches of his vision. A black speck in a white sky. Stop, his mind screamed but the song of the trees was too loud. Stop! he yelled again, but the waters absorbed his voice and drowned his words. The blackness grew, spreading through the mists. No! Don’t you see it? You have to see. Look!!
The roots exploded with light and fire, open and vulnerable. The wound spread and the disease infected everything it touched. The youngling thrust through the earth and the song of the Lalas beckoned, unsuspecting. Please, he shouted, but the music was too loud. They couldn’t hear him. The darkness was alive. He felt its presence as he felt the water. It infected everything. Blackened it. Poisoned it. Robbed it of life.
Can’t be. It can’t be. But it was. He knew it. Suddenly he knew it. You ‘re aware! You see it too! The trees saw the Darkening but they did nothing! Stop it! Warn it! he screamed. Don’t let this happen. Don’t!
The youngling’s roots approached the Chamber, open, unsuspecting of what lurked there waiting for it. He couldn’t let this happen. Why? he yelled. Why? Stop it! Call to it! Please. What are you doing? The trees refused to listen. He opened his mouth, laid his head back and screamed like a madman into the void.
Noooooooooooo!
Chapter Forty-four
They sat on the dock and listened to the water lap against the shore. The city was silent behind them. It should have been peaceful. But it wasn’t.
“What else do you know about the well?” she asked. “Do the histories speak of it?” She gazed out into the sea.
“I don’t remember it being mentioned,” he replied. His face was strained and he shifted his position. “If that’s really it out there, then it can’t be a well anyone drew water from. It’s too hard to get to.”
“I wonder how far down it goes,” she said. Her body shuddered. Deep and dark. Cold. “That’s it though. It has to be.” It was so easy to find. Too easy?
“I thought we’d have to search and search,” he echoed her thoughts.
“I could never have spotted the bridge,” she admitted.
“If we’d gotten here when the tide was high, we wouldn’t have seen it. You can see it now too, can’t you?”
“I think so,” she said, squinting. His breath was hot against her ear and it felt good.
“It’ll become clearer soon. I hope it’s wide enough for us to walk on,” he said, referring to the bridge. The water churned and splashed all around it. “It won’t be easy and the sun’s going to set soon. I don’t want to take you out there after nightfall.” He tightened his grip around her.
“We may not have another chance.” Black. As black as death. “We need to decide what we’re going to do.” As they sat and waited for the well to emerge from the water, her doubts returned. She hugged her knees with her arms.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“You told me you had a plan, remember?” She pressed her back into his chest. His body was warm against hers.
“I thought I did,” he stared out at the water.
Caroline understood. “I think we should get to the well if indeed it’s there.” She stared with him. “Maybe we’ll know then.”
He felt so safe with her, and everything else…
“That’s the well,” Dalloway was sure. “Soon the tide will be out and we’ll see more of it.”
“So much depends upon what we decide,” Caroline spoke her thoughts.
“We were told what to do with the map. Maybe we should just do that.” His voice was unsteady, unsure.
“Even that’s become a choice we have to make. Tamara told us what to do with it and yet she chose to give it to us. She didn’t do it herself.”
“She entrusted it to us, Caroline,” he reminded her. “Does that give us the right to decide its fate ourselves?”
“So we should throw it down the well as we were instructed,” Caroline concluded. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into his shoulder. She was so comfortable against him. For a moment she hoped the tide would never go out.
“Yes, we should,” Dalloway agreed, but his heart was not in it. He looked over her head at the frames of the ships half-sunk in the shallow sea.
The dead city loomed behind them, and the water lapped against the crumbling remnants of the wharf as the surge ebbed.
Black sand blew over the white stones of the path. With each gust, the horse shied. “Easy boy,” Beolan spoke in his ear, stroking his neck under his mane. The further they walked into the city, the harder it became to calm the animal. A narrow roadway veered off of the main one and Beolan headed for it. It was less exposed, less open. A series of steps led from it down toward the sea.
The surface was slippery and the sky was darkening. It would soon be hard to see. Beolan steadied
the horse. “Easy now,” he said again. It stumbled down the first stone slab. Its hoof missed a step and clattered on the rock. The sound echoed like a clap of thunder. Beolan sunk lower in the saddle. “Easy, easy,” he whispered. The key was cold against his skin, even through the cloth of his shirt. Maringar held on tight to the back of the saddle. The winds cleared the path in front of them, beckoning. Beolan hunched his shoulders, shielded his eyes from the blowing sand and pushed on. The black water stretched out wide beyond the tops of the buildings. Beolan squinted. It should have been blue.
“Why are we going to the water?” Maringar asked.
“Instinct,” Beolan replied without thinking. “No, it’s more than that. When we were back at the gates something in the distance caught my eye. I saw a light flicker, more than the sun on the water. I saw it again a little while ago.”
“A flicker?” Maringar questioned.
“An omen,” Beolan’s voice was steady, sure. “Twice it caught my eye.”
“Fair enough,” Maringar replied.
They clattered by houses with stone balustrades, elaborately carved, worn by sand and time but still beautiful. Empty buildings, doors ajar, littered with broken furniture. Wagons tied to stone posts. Shops with their signs inviting patrons. Inviting ghosts. Everything looked like melted wax, smooth and amorphous… apparitional. Beolan pressed past them all, his eyes focused ahead.
“They left everything behind. Why? What happened here?” Maringar asked, wincing more with each word.
“I wonder about the same things,” Beolan confessed. “Everyone does.” His voice was tense.
“But why? Why would they all leave here?” Maringar asked. “Maybe they weren’t threatened at all. Everyone assumes that right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What if the opposite were true?”
“What do you mean?” Beolan’s body stiffened.
“What if something or someone convinced them to leave? That would explain why there aren’t any signs of a struggle anywhere, and why they left everything behind.”
“What could do that? Who?” He raised his hand. “Don’t answer that. Better if we don’t guess.” He pulled the fabric of his tunic up around his neck. The sand was creeping down it.
“When we get to the shore, maybe we’ll learn more,” Maringar shrugged.
The horse started. “Shhh, shhh, shhh. Easy,” Beolan spoke softly. “Don’t look,” he said to the animal, but he meant the words as much for himself.
Far to the left, the crest of an archway rose above everything else. It stood out starkly, even though most of it was buried. The path widened on the way to the docks, designed for transport. They passed beyond the last of the tall structures and the water stretched across the horizon.
“There are ships everywhere. Look!” Beolan pointed ahead. Skeletons. Carcasses. Ruins.
“Can you see the well?” Maringar asked. To his eyes, the shoreline was no more than a distant blur.
“No.” He looked from left to right. “Let’s get closer.”
The path grew wider and the buildings grew sparser as they neared the shoreline. It split left and right, and Beolan chose the straighter of the two that looked like it led to the beach, more a footpath than one for commerce. They walked around the first bend and it descended precipitously through a thin gulch carved into the stone of the mountain, blocking their view of the shore. The stones gave way to the sand as they emerged from the rock. A plain wooden platform, still intact, straddled the glittering sand.
“There’s a jetty running into the bay.” Beolan’s heart skipped. The sun hovered in the western sky. “Something’s at the end of it.”
A flash of light caught their eyes, a vivid spark on the unsettled water.
“That’s it!” Beolan said. He pulled back on the reins, hesitating. “It came from the end of the jetty!” The water was too black, too dense, not like water at all. “The tide’s going out. There’s something there.” The sun streaked through it. Like through a keyhole, Beolan thought, but he kept it to himself.
“If it is, it wasn’t very hard to find,” Maringar grumbled, skeptical.
“No, not hard at all.” Too easy? He looked over his shoulder at the city behind him. Nothing stirred. Dead. Everything was dead. His eyes jumped to the jetty.
The water around it churned.
Beolan led the horse out from behind the rocks, into the open. A shadow ran across the beach like a charging animal. The brighter the light the darker the shadow, the thought came to him suddenly.
Chapter Forty-five
They’re still as beautiful as ever. The scars had healed. At least most of them had. The trees and shrubs of Lormarion had already concealed the worst damage from Colton’s attack. The massive Nobans stood strong and proud, supporting the city perched on top of them. Liam brushed the dirt from his arms. It was a long, hard journey. Quickly. Quickly. He looked up, impatient.
The seals high overhead hissed open and a face appeared, peering down at him.
“Liam, Chosen of Oleander,” he cast his voice above. He knew the procedure.
He stepped to the side as the platform descended. A single guard in civilian clothes stood upon it with his bow drawn and ready, aimed at Liam’s heart.
Still nervous, he thought. This used to be an open city. No more. Liam stepped onto the lift and grabbed the railing surrounding it. The guard returned the arrow to his quiver and shouldered his bow. The platform rose up and off the ground. At the top, the guard jumped down and joined another armed civilian waiting for them. Together they sealed the lift shut.
The guard posts are empty here, he noticed right away. He looked around the landing. The others as well. “Will you inform the King and Queen I wish an audience with them?” Liam asked. Where are the soldiers?
“They have already been apprised of your entry,” the man replied. “Follow me, please.”
Liam followed the guard across the broad expanse of smooth wood. What a sight, he admired it still. The city was incredible! He took in a deep breath of the thin, fresh air. They walked past the staging areas and docking stations that surrounded the lifts until they reached the pedestrian pathway leading to the heart of the city. Though hundreds of feet in the air, the surface felt as solid to him as rock.
The palace’s carved Noban doors were open and people milled about everywhere. They went about their business and didn’t question a Chosen’s presence among them. The guard led him to the entrance, just as Queen Elsinestra appeared in the doorway.
“Liam. Welcome.” She extended her arm to him. “It’s been a while since you were last here,” she said. She tried to conceal her consternation at his unexpected visit but he knew he’d caught her off guard.
“Too long.” Her eyes are sad.
“I assume it’s not pleasure that brings you here?” She looked past him, searching for something, someone.
“None of us have the freedom anymore to travel for pleasure,” he nodded.
“We’ve hidden our wounds well, have we not?” She forced a smile. “My husband was determined to wipe out all traces of the Dark One’s assault as completely as he could.”
“And indeed he has,” Liam replied. “The Chamber of the Stars appears no different than ever.” Remarkable considering it had been shattered during the battle.
“Yes. It looks the same as it always did. But the scars remain beneath the surface, even though they may not be visible.”
The scars on you are not so well hidden, he thought.
“Let’s join Treestar. He awaits us above.” She put her arm in his, led him across the hall and up the far stairway. When they reached the winding stairs to the Tower she stopped and turned to face him. “He is not the same,” she warned.
And neither are you. They climbed the three hundred steps to the top. The final door had no sentry guarding it. Strange. Where are they all?
They entered the Chamber of the Stars. The shutters were down and the room was exposed to the afternoon sun. He could see for mi
les and miles in all directions. A simple plaque was set into the floor near his feet. ‘Adain the courageous’ it read.
“He was,” Elsinestra said over his shoulder.
“Speak no further of death today,” Treestar’s voice boomed from the other side of the room. He walked over to them. “Welcome to Seramour, Liam.”
His shoulders were hunched and his voice had an edge to it that had never been present before. She’s right. He’s not the same… No one’s the same. “Thank you. It’s good to see you. You look well,” he lied.
“I am. Our people are resilient. The city is almost as good as new.” They grasped each other’s hands.
His grip is not as strong. He’s suffered more than I expected. Liam felt the blood pumping in the King’s palm. It quickened as he began to speak.
“The Dark One has begun another campaign,” Treestar said.
He turned and walked to the south railing. “We have sent our armies to the aid of the Baron in Tamarand.”
Liam nodded. That explains the absence of uniforms.
“You noticed,” Treestar stated. He did not ask.
“Yes,” he answered. “Calipee will need all the support he can gather. I watched the soldiers march from Sedahar. His forces are formidable.” I must ask. I need to know. “Tell me Treestar, have your people recovered from the assault as you would have hoped?”
“That’s an odd question, Chosen,” Elsinestra intervened. “What exactly do you mean?”
She can still read me. Good. “As more of the trees depart, it gets harder and harder to recover. A great malaise has been affecting so many. I see it, we see it, on our travels. It’s dangerous. The spirit weakens when it must remain strong.”
“We have managed to keep our’s high,” Treestar replied. “We have no Lalas in Lormarion, as you know Liam.” His voice trailed off. His mind was elsewhere.
“So you cannot suffer one’s loss as the others do?” Liam finished his thought.
The Revenge of the Elves Page 33
