No one spoke.
“Dalin,” Tarthur began, “do you know what has happened to her?”
“Her soul is still in her body,” he answered, close to tears. “I can feel it.”
Tarthur nodded. “Her soul and body remain intact. But her mind is gone.”
“No!” Dalin denied. “It can be brought back. I will not part from her again.”
“When she first looked into the Wall, her mind was broken and confused. Corizaz destroyed that old mind, and replaced it with an extension of his will. Now he has revoked it. She will continue like this.”
“No!” Dalin was adamant. “There must be someone who can heal this.”
“The only one who can give her mind back is the one who gave it to her in the first place,” Tarthur sadly remarked.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and left the elf king to his grieving.
Chapter 12: The Ultimate Power
Dalin looked into Kitrina’s eyes. What Tarthur said was true. He could see that her mind was gone. Her heart continued to beat, her astounding eyes blinked their long lashes whenever a spec of dust floated near them, and her chest softly rose and fell as she took in air, but that was all she could do.
He laid her body down on the grass, wincing as the rough cloth of his tunic dug into the burns on his back. He remembered again the first time they had met, when he had healed her from a burn. He knelt beside her, and then cradled her head in his arms and brought it into his lap. He stroked her hair, removing the twigs and leaves stuck in it. His calloused hand traced the line of her cheek, brushing one stray strand of blue over her small pointed ear. It was the ear that would never again hear words that it could understand.
A solitary tear dropped onto her high cheekbone, and he wiped it off. Although her mind might not hear him, he could still communicate to her.
He would speak directly to her soul.
“I’m so sorry, Kitrina.” Dalin looked deep into her eyes, as if the intensity of his gaze might penetrate the fog within her.
“We would have had such a life together…I am the king now…you would be my queen, and our children would play by the fireside when it was cold. They would dance barefoot on the lawns of Breshen when the summer sun warmed the land. We would have grown old together….”
He held her tightly, tears flowing freely now as an idea hit him. But would he have enough time?
“I always dreamed of that day, Kitrina. The day we joined our souls together for eternity. Your brilliant white dress lies unused in my storeroom. The sapphire jewels hang forgotten in the vault. The bursting bouquets of Poeloe flowers have long wilted to dust.”
He scooped up her limp body in his arms, squatting and then standing.
“We wait no longer, Kitrina. From this day we will never part.”
Dalin took a step backwards, towards the Wall of Glass.
Valena seized his meaning first. “Dalin, no! We need you. Your people need you!”
“I am tired and wounded,” he replied, looking at his sister with sadness. “Someone will come forward to lead the elves.”
“Your wounds will heal!” called out Derlin. “They are serious but they will heal at Treshin.”
“My deepest wounds are not of the flesh,” Dalin responded, stepping backwards again. “They will not heal.”
“Someone stop him!” Tarthur cried out. “We all need your strength.” But no one made a move to stop him. Even standing there a broken man, Dalin was still a king. His face was set—for the first time doubt and anguish was gone from his brow. Holding his recovered lover in his arms, Dalin was finally at peace.
“I am sorry…” he said, stepping backwards again. “ There is no time for proper farewells. Then, until we meet again.”
He lowered his head and his last words were whispered only to her.
“Our pain is over. We are finally going home, Kitrina, together.”
Facing the companions, Dalin closed his eyes and stepped through the Wall. Water splashed down on his shoulders, drenching him and his beloved. For an instant, the ripples from their passing were visible, and then the surface was once again smooth as glass.
Thus, Dalin king of the elves ended his life, gave the greatest gift to his beloved and brought her wandering soul home. There they raced, laughed and danced, and were never parted again.
***********************
Uvit was the first to speak. He was near tears. “His life had so much pain…even for a king.” It was not a question.
“He lived for years thinking about her,” Valena responded. “He was forced to kill his best friend in the War of the Orb. Dalin adored all life…no one should have to go through what he has.”
A smile broke out on Uvit’s face. “Yet at the end he was at peace. It gives hope for us all.”
No one spoke, the fresh shock at losing Zelin now reopened by the passing of Dalin. Finally, Tarthur managed to get some words out. “After all his years of suffering and selflessness, he deserved eternal peace. That goes for both of them. We have lost enough here today. Let us depart before we lose anyone else.”
With heavy hearts and confused minds they returned to the wagons and set off back down the trail.
***********************
He wished he were working somewhere, anywhere else but here. Although Gabcalzar felt guilty about it every time his mind wandered to the subject, he couldn’t help wishing for a different assignment. Of course, he only thought about his assignment every few minutes of every waking day.
There wasn’t much of anything else to do.
Even for someone who loved to study, the days could be long. He had learned a tremendous amount in the three months since he had left the royal court. He had read through most of the available books on the history of the kingdom, and was part way through the history of the elves, although there were so many names he doubted if could ever remember them all.
His mother had urged him to take a different assignment, but she didn’t understand the way things worked. Junior magicians skilled at Transmittomentis, sending one’s mind out over great distances, were rare. Most of the great ones could do it, but they were too important to waste their time on a post that hadn’t seen any action for fifteen years.
Boredom was an everyday part of life, so much so that he almost wished he would be needed. Almost.
Even when he was at his most depressed, he knew better than to wish for that. For if he failed at his post…he pushed the thought from his mind.
Still, they might have sent a more fit wizard. The glowing disk in the corner of the room gave off a tremendous amount of heat. Conflicting forces sought to widen and slam the breach shut at the same time, leading to friction where they met. Gabcalzar wiped the sticky sweat from his pink brow with the sleeve of his stone-gray robe. He opened the shrine’s only window to let the cool night air stream through. In a few minutes, it would be time for bed.
After taking his evening meal of roast venison and wine, he sat back and patted his bulging belly in contentment. He had always referred to it as his ‘insurance,’ in case he was ever lost in the wilderness or imprisoned. At least the food was good for so remote a location.
The meat brought a sleepiness over him, and his eyelids were fighting to push their way down, covering their charges and leading him to sweet blessed sleep.
His cheeks jiggled back and forth as he shook his head to ward off his fatigue. There could be no sleep until he checked the seal.
Two identical sets of columns stood on each side of the gate. They were fashioned from a kind of green marble, with two red coils around the middle. The translucent yellow teardrop-shaped tops of the columns fizzled with magergy, connecting with each other and pushing back into the gate.
As long as the columns held, nothing could come through the gate. Two would be enough to hold the portal shut, but the other two were there as a backup. Gabcalzar was the last line of defense after that. Although he knew how to re-close the portal, he doubted that he would be a
ble to if the time came. All he hoped was that he would be able to do what he had trained for.
He carefully checked and rechecked each column. The right backup column was a little short of magergy, and Gabcalzar placed his hands over it, infusing it with his energy until it was as full as the others.
The effort drained him, and he was relieved to retire to his room and sleep. He had his hand on the door latch from the gate room to his private bedroom when something hit him. He wrinkled his nose, bringing in the air around him to see if he could discern the odor against the background of sizzling magergy. He froze as he recognized it….
It was the bitter, rancid smell of death.
In two great strides he was in front of the gate, just in time to see a fleshless arm smash through the window on the front door and reach around to undo the latch. Gabcalzar readied his staff, sweeping it in a wide circle and intently calling forth his spell. How had the creature broken through the first seal, the magic lock that guarded the perimeter?
The skull knight lumbered into the room and Gabcalzar hit him square in the chest with a white beam of concentrated magergy. He had to be careful using powerful spells so close to the fragile columns.
The force of the spell sent the skull knight flying out into the darkness. Gabcalzar followed up on him, sending out a burst of wind that tore the knight’s limbs apart and scattered them.
He snapped his head to the left and then scanned outside the shrine, sweeping to the middle and then to the right. There were no more skull knights to be seen, but even one was enough. He only hoped he could hold it off long enough for help to arrive.
He had to warn the others.
Gabcalzar relaxed his mind, preparing to establish the connection. The slightest distraction could not only jeopardize the success of his transmission, it could prove fatal if his mind was not allowed to return to his body.
He took a deep breath and then began murmuring the words that would connect him to the council chamber in Tealsburg.
He felt a stabbing intrusion in his shoulder as a scaly hand grabbed him, almost as if he had been stabbed with an icicle covered in snakeskin.
“You didn’t think I would allow you to do that, did you?”
Gabcalzar spun to see his attacker. He beheld a black cloaked wizard suspended in a green mist. The situation was becoming desperate! He tried to send out his mind again, but could not. Something was blocking him—from within.
The wizard’s mocking laughter was inside his head.
“My name is Corizaz,” he said, answering the unasked question in Gabcalzar’s mind. “But henceforth you will be privileged to call me ‘master.’”
Gabcalzar caught the wizard’s meaning immediately and shrunk back in horror. He would not be taken to be a skull knight! But he was beginning to wonder if he had any choice. The wizard’s presence inside his mind was strong, but Gabcalzar was no weakling either.
He would need to take his chance when Corizaz was distracted. Gabcalzar knew why the green wizard was here. People only came to this place for two reasons—to do something specific or to prevent anyone else from doing it.
Gabcalzar had no illusions that Corizaz was here for the latter.
Corizaz shattered the outside pillars first, and then moved towards the inside ones. He hesitated for a moment, contemplating this world-shattering event he was about to unleash. His body mirrored his resolve and seemed to harden.
Gabcalzar would have cried out in horror if he could have.
Corizaz brought his hand up and then brought it down across the final pillars, smashing the tops and leaving jagged columns where they once were. The free magergy coursed through Corizaz before dispersing with a rush into the night.
The portal struggled with itself, flexing inwards and outwards as the hole between the worlds struggled to open. Colorful beams of light arced back and forth, and soon the white opening was wide enough for a man.
Gabcalzar’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He had failed at his task. The one thing that he had sworn must never happen had finally come to pass.
A cloaked and hooded figure so dark that he swallowed the light around him stepped through the portal. His face was hidden under his cowl. They had never met before, but Gabcalzar immediately knew who the new figure was.
The Death Lord, Darhyn, had returned.
Corizaz dropped to one knee. “Master,” he said, “Your new army awaits you on the Isle.”
Darhyn looked left and right at the broken pillars and then down at Corizaz. “Fool!” he cried. “Flee!”
Gabcalzar took advantage of the momentary confusion to make his move. There was no way he could send out his mind to contact the others. Still, he had one chance to at least warn those in the settlement—and to save himself from the fate of the skull knights.
Gabcalzar thought of how sad his mother would be, and then brought both of his hands inward, lips trembling as he murmured the words to seal his own fate.
Corizaz spun just in time to see the wizard place his fingertips on his rib cage and finish the word that sent the fire lancing into his own heart, incinerating his body and spreading to the wooden walls.
Flames licked the frame of the shrine hungrily but neither dark wizard noticed. Darhyn cast one glance backwards at the portal and then raced out the door, Corizaz trailing behind.
***********************
It wasn’t cold outside, but he shivered under his blankets. He was alone in his simple room, staring up at the ceiling.
Except the ceiling wasn’t what he saw.
Instead, Uvit replayed over and over what he had seen in the Wall of Glass. It didn’t torment him like he knew it had done to Kitrina. He knew this because after emerging from the Wall, as soon as he looked at someone, he understood them. With one glance, it was like he had read an entire book devoted to their lives. He felt their pain, their joy, their hope. He tasted what they tasted. He loved what they loved, hated what they hated. Yet all this was only temporary, and it never overpowered him.
All this empathy was a lot for a ten year old boy to handle.
Of course, he wasn’t a normal ten year old boy. Still, at times he just needed to be alone. He never could have guessed the secret jealousies that men hid beneath veneers of caring.
They had stopped at his home in Ruf to rest for one night on their way to see the king. They had left him alone with his mother while they slept in a hotel. Uvit could feel Yan’s presence, though. The shapeshifter was somewhere close; a hidden sentry. His mother was in the other room. She seemed to understand what would be required of him more than anyone.
Mothers were loathe to let their sons out of their protection. No matter how great a son became, his mother would always think that she could somehow lessen the danger he was in. Uvit knew that if he became the most powerful knight in the realm and charged off into battle, his mother would still throw herself in front of anything that dared to face him, even if he could handle the enemy better on his own. He knew that was part of why he loved her so much.
Uvit dozed in and out of sleep, unsure now where visions ended and dreams began. Suddenly, he had a feeling that he was no longer alone in his room.
He glanced at the door and saw the shadow of a figure standing there, watching him.
Even without the gift of understanding he had received, Uvit knew who the man was. He could remember seeing him only a few times before.
“Daddy!” he cried as Qeunten came and sat on the edge of his bed. Uvit threw his arms around him and drank in the foreign smell of his clothes.
“You’ve grown,” Qeunten said, running his fingers through the boy’s unkempt mop of hair. “And not just physically, I think.”
“Do you see as I see?” Uvit had so many questions, but he didn’t feel comfortable asking them to anyone else.
“No,” Qeunten said. “I know how you see, but I see things in a different way.”
“What do I do now? Everything is so confusing….” he looked up into hi
s father’s big eyes.
“You have seen what is to come.” He said it with finality, but not without sadness. “You must follow Tarthur and his friends.” Qeunten said it wearily, as if a great weight bore down on him. He appeared to be in his forties, but Uvit knew that his father was far older than that. This mismatch led to an ageless quality about him, not unlike the feeling one gets from reading a book about adventures long ago and far away.
Uvit looked away for a long time until Qeunten reached out and turned the boy’s face towards him. There were tears in his eyes.
“You’re going away again, aren’t you?” It wasn’t so much a question as an accusation.
“I’m sorry, my son. You don’t know how I long to stay and rest with you and your mother….” Tears were coming to Quenten’s eyes as well.
“Why can’t we just be a family? A real family like the others.”
“Sometimes duty is more important than family.”
Qeunten reached his hands out and took Uvit in his arms. “I am sorry that this is such a bitter lesson to learn. I have many tasks yet undone….”
He cocked his head towards the window, and Uvit could make out two figures who looked awfully like the licentious deceivers that Tarthur had met in Laia. Uvit didn’t have full access to people’s memories, but if something bothered them, it often came through in the present. He looked doubtfully at his father.
“In the right place and at the right time, the right man will be a hero,” Qeunten said.
“Why don’t you take me with you?” Uvit knew at least part of the answer before his father responded.
“I wish I could…but I can only take others with me if they are out of place. Your time is now, my son. Your place is here.”
Uvit knew that it was true just as he knew water flowed downhill.
Lands of Daranor: Book 02 - ProphecyQuest Page 20
