“I have been waiting for you,” the figure spoke in a strong, deep voice.
“Who are you?” Coran questioned. He knew he should be wary of the figure, maybe even frightened, but he was having enough trouble breathing without trying to run away.
“I should be asking you. That is why I am here.”
“Where are we?”
“That is a difficult question to answer.” The figure sounded amused. “I am here, in this room, but is it really a room?”
He shook his head in confusion. As he did the room wavered at the edges of his vision. It isn’t real! It has to be a dream, he thought to himself.
“A dream, yes, but that does not make it any less real,” the figure said, reading his mind. “I told you it was difficult. Now, I do not have much time, and neither do you.” That last was definitely said with amusement. Coran had the feeling he was being examined. Not by eyes, but by senses. Could he be a wizard of some sort?
“There is little power in you.” Its voice turned to confusion. “Did he mark the right man?”
“Who?” Then he had an idea and things clicked into place. “You mean Naras?”
Instead of being annoyed the figure did not sound like it cared that he knew at all. “He revealed himself to you? No matter. Perhaps you are the one,” he said thoughtfully. “This could be difficult, yet worth the price if it gives me what I need.”
“What do you need? What are you talking about?”
The figure ignored him. Coran didn’t see it cross the space between them, but one moment it was on the other side of the fire and the next the figure was beside him, holding his wrist in an iron grip. A long sharp fingernail preceded a pale thin finger from the sleeve of the robe. The nail scratched his hand. Its other hand released its grip and Coran looked at the drops of blood that had escaped his skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a genuine curiosity, and a little fear.
“Memories can be carried by blood. I want to see where you came from.” He let the drop of blood from his nail fall to the cold stone floor.
Coran found himself atop a high wall looking down on a scene of madness. The field below was a sea of moving men. There must have been tens of thousands and all were moving towards the black fortress he guarded, a fortress that lay in the heart of the Sauron Mountains. It was the great city of Mon Vusaar, and he was Gethmon Derosian su Tyelin, guardian of the southern gates. Those gates still stood, but the fortress that had never fallen was about to be overrun. How he knew that he could not explain, but he was sure of it. Scaling ladders and ropes lined the wall in both directions as men in scale plate armor and wearing helmets that revealed only their eyes tried to force their way over the battlements. A head popped up in front of him and he reacted instantly with his heavy blade, the headless corpse falling backwards to hinder its comrades coming up behind. To his right the defenders were being pushed back and a flood of the enemy poured out onto the walls. Gethmon hefted his sword and with a great cry for the Silver Hawk he charged towards his certain death.
Coran gasped as he returned from the image of destruction. He was back in the round chamber with the dark robed figure. It was strange. For those few seconds he had been Gethmon Derosian su Tyelin. Coran recognized the name. Gethmon had been the Lord of Tyelin when Mon Vusaar had fallen. From what he knew of history, Gethmon had survived the assault. He later fought at Tyelin, and then with Soros.
“Your blood is strong, very strong,” the figure said, and Coran thought he detected a note of weariness. If it is that strong for the past I must try the future.” Before Coran could say anything the figure let another drop of blood fall.
There was no sense of being anywhere. There was no grass or walls or sky. Two people appeared in the air before them. One was Coran, dressed in armor and wearing the Silver Hawk of Tyelin. The only difference was the banner that hung straight out, as if held by invisible hands. On a white background was a long sword, colored a silverish-blue. It stood point up. Coran could not be sure, but it fit the description of a sword of legend. The one people called ‘Ice’. The other image was of Katelyn. She wore a shirt of deep blue and black pants. Her hair was swept back and a golden crown circled her head. A banner stood behind her as well. It was the banner of Summerhall with one difference. A red rose basked in the rays emanating out from the sun. The image vanished and the figure in the chamber hissed in surprise and hatred. “It is you!”
“Who do you think I am?” Coran asked even more confused by the other’s reaction.
“No matter,” the figure said more calmly. “Now that I know you I will give you one chance. Serve me.”
Coran knew that they were not idle words. The figure meant for him to serve completely, with body and soul. He knew that his answer would be one of the most important decisions of his life. “I will not.”
“No? Even now your body is dying. Do you not feel it?” The figure was back to being amused. “You have no more choices. You will serve me or die. Only I can save you.”
He knew the hooded ...thing was not bluffing. He now understood the trouble with his breathing and why he felt so hot. He remembered the arrow and knew. None of that mattered. “I will not serve you.”
“Do you think you are safe from me here?” He no longer sounded amused. “You are wrong.”
There was pain. Every part of his body was on fire. Inside and out it was like being stabbed with white hot needles. He screamed until he no longer had breath, and somehow he still went on screaming. The sound went through him and he could not tell if he was really screaming or if it was in his mind.
Katelyn was worried. He had stopped mumbling, and no longer called her name. He made no more sounds at all. His face was paler and hot to the touch. She did not think he would make it all the way to Summerhall. They still had several hours left until they could get there.
The coach slowed, then came to a stop. She glanced outside at the darkening sky. Alys woke up from where she had been sleeping on the bench, her head resting against the side of the coach. “Is it time to stop?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Katelyn replied feeling tired herself. She had gotten little sleep in their dash across the plain. She didn’t think it was time for another stop, but she had lost track of time.
Voices could be heard talking outside, and someone mentioned riders approaching. She sat up straight, hoping that help had finally arrived. She heard the jingle of the harnesses coming closer. The sound stopped and a moment later Gelarus opened the coach door and climbed in.
She was never more relieved to see his wrinkled face and white hair. The old wizard went directly to Coran’s side. He peered at the stricken man for a long moment, feeling his forehead, looking at his hands, and lastly checking his wound by peeling back the bandage. Katelyn waited, barely controlling herself. Finally she decided she could take it no longer.
“Can you help him?” she asked more shrilly than she had intended. “He will die if you do not.” She surprised herself at saying it out loud. In some foolish way she thought that if she refused to say it then it would not be possible. Gelarus was here though, and that would make the difference.
“Yes. He will. But there is nothing I can do,” the wizard stated evenly. “I studied the point of the arrow Devon brought me. It was used to force a link between someone and Coran.”
Katelyn was too stunned to speak. He had admitted that he would die if he did nothing. He had to help. There was no one else. What he was saying penetrated her concern. “What do you mean by a link?”
“A connection through blood. It can be used to enter a person’s mind, to see what they might know about something, or even effect a weaker minded person.”
“If you know what it is then you can do something.”
Gelarus shook his head. “I could, but anything I tried would most likely kill him. The only hope he has is to fight it. He must break the connection himself.”
“You do not sound too ups
et by this,” she accused the wizard. “Don’t you care?!”
That wizened face turned on her. “Care? If you knew how much I cared.” He turned back to Coran and lowered his voice. She barely made out what he said. “If the boy dies we are all doomed.”
That was when Coran screamed, only Gelarus did not jump at the sound of torment. It was the kind of scream to wake the dead, and sent shivers through her in waves. It went on and on and did not stop. How could he keep screaming without taking a breath? She could only watch as his back arched up off the litter in pain. His arms stretched out straight ending in clenched fists. She wanted to scream as well.
Coran knew he couldn’t last much longer. He had to find a way to deal with the pain before it killed him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on something, anything but the pain. The first thing that popped in his head was Katelyn. He pictured the way she looked on her birthday, with the blue dress that left her shoulders bare. He grabbed onto it as a drowning man grabs on to a piece of driftwood. He clung to the thought of her and wouldn’t let go.
Coran stumbled and almost fell as the pain vanished. He stared in astonishment at the green grass that surrounded him as far as he could see. Above was a sky perfectly blue devoid of clouds. There were no trees in the distance or anything else that he could see. The day was bright enough for noon but he couldn’t locate the sun. When he looked at the grass around him he realized that he didn’t cast a shadow either.
The air blurred and the robed figure stood before him once more. “Did you think you could escape me so easily?” The voice tried to sound threatening but Coran detected some doubt in it. The thing didn’t know how he had gotten away. “Serve me!”
The pain came again, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as the first time. Either the level of pain was less or he tolerated it better. It gave him hope. “Never!”
The robed thing faltered and the pain disappeared. “If you will not serve me you will die. I told you your body was dying and it is. I was your only chance.”
“Not the only one,” a melodious voice stated. A woman with long, white hair, not nearly white like Naras’ but truly white, and wearing a flowing material of pure white appeared on the hill. Despite the hair she appeared young, maybe in her early twenties. When she looked at him he felt a shock. Whatever she looked like her eyes were not those of someone young. Those eyes had seen far too much to belong to someone young. She was much older than her features said.
The robed one stepped back. “You cannot be here.”
“I can. He is one of mine, after all,” she replied calmly. “It is you who must leave.”
“I will not,” the robed figure denied her strongly. “I will let him die.”
Her laugh was musical as well. “You saw he had no power and so you came here without taking precautions. If you want to challenge me I will sear your mind clean.”
The hooded figure hesitated. “The next time we meet I will give you the lesson my master promised you long ago.” Then the figure was gone.
“Thank you,” Coran said to the woman, relieved.
“Do not thank me. In time it will be I who owes you a great debt.” She looked around at their surroundings. “This will be a nice place when it is complete.”
He frowned. “You know where we are?”
She laughed again at his naiveté. “Of course, this is your dream. Everyone has their own special place within themselves to which they go. It reminds them of why they live or why they must die. It is a place where they build their dreams of a future.”
“My dream? What do you mean it isn’t complete?”
“You will add to it until it becomes what you wish it to be, what you most desire.”
He didn’t understand, but he was getting that a lot lately. “Who are you? If you do not mind me asking?”
“You will know when it is time,” she replied mysteriously. She cocked her head as if listening for something. “There. The link is broken. He will not be able to come here again.”
“Who was he?”
“That you will know soon, as well. I do not have much time. The effort to be here is great. I must speak with you, but not here. Will you come with me?”
At first he was wary, but she seemed to be on his side. “All right.”
She beamed at his acceptance. “Take my hand.”
He did and the place that was his dream vanished.
Coran’s body fell back onto the litter. The screaming mercifully ended. Questions were shouted outside and she could here Devon shouting back, telling them that everything was fine. She prayed that it was. Coran was still breathing erratically. Why was Gelarus not saying anything? Finally Coran sighed and his whole body appeared to relax. Gelarus checked his forehead and wrist once again. He lifted the eyelid and stared for a moment before checking the shoulder. He lifted aside the cloth bandage as carefully as he could and replaced it the same way.
The wizard exhaled loudly. “He is well. I do not know how, but he is out of danger for now.”
Katelyn wanted to weep for joy. He was going to live. “Are you sure?” Gelarus nodded. “What do you mean for now?”
The Wizard peered at her from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “Until I know what happened, whatever made him scream, and why he is better now, I cannot even guess.” He stopped and studied her a moment longer. “If he wakes he could be...injured inside.”
Katelyn’s feeling of relief soured at the wizard’s words. “Injured how?” A variety of horrible possibilities filled her head.
“It depends, but if there is any permanent damage it will be to his mind.” He waited for her questions but none came. He nodded in approval. “It is possible that he might not wake at all.”
She felt fear again for the man lying on the litter. “He will wake,” she said in a whisper.
The room was all in white. There was no door, or table, or chairs. The Lady in white gestured for him to come closer and he did. One of the walls disappeared before his eyes and was replaced by a breathtaking view. From a clear blue sky the sun shined down on rugged, snow capped peaks. Those mountains had to be higher than any he had ever seen before, but what he found unnerving was that he was looking slightly down on them. Coran gulped and tried not to think what was holding the room up. Then he berated himself for being foolish. This was a dream and his body was...well he didn’t know where his body was right now.
“This is my place,” she told him, sounding content. “You could say this is my dream.”
He appreciated the view and that she shared it with him, but he needed answers. “Who was that robed...person?”
She smiled at him fondly. “You have many questions, I know. This is not the time. I told you I must leave you soon. What I wanted to say to you was that very soon you will have to make a choice. A very important choice, for you and for many others.”
Coran thought of the two tunnels he had seen and the choice he had yet to make. “I thought it was just a dream.”
She studied his face. “In a way it was.”
That was what the other one had said. He also realized that she had just read his mind too. “What does that mean?”
“Did you understand your dream?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“I am not sure. Was it a choice between power and...” He wasn’t sure how to say it.
“Love,” she supplied, and he nodded uncomfortably. “You have chosen love?” When he did not answer she continued. “I see that you have yet to choose. Then I will give you some advice. You will face many more choices in the months to come. With some you will want to follow your heart, with others you will want to follow duty. You must do what you feel is right. Do not think of why it is right. If it feels right that is enough.” She took his hand and it felt pleasant. “You will sleep now. For a few days I think. When you wake you will feel weakened. You must recover fully. You will need your strength before the next choice must be made.”
“Next choice? I have not made a first one.”
“Then do so,” she told him pointedly. “You must choose the path you will follow, and soon.”
“Or else?” There had to be a reason for the warning.
“The path will choose you.” The way she said it was ominous of what might happen if that should occur.
“Will I have time? To recover before the next choice I mean.”
“You will, but you must do what you feel is right.”
“And my next choice? What is it?”
She shook her head slightly. “I cannot reveal that. You must be free to choose without influence.”
She ignored him the first time, but he had to ask again while he had the chance. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” she said with a slight smile.
“I have to be able to call you something,” he asked, trying to pry it out of her, but she disappeared before he finished the question, and so did everything else.
Chapter 13
Waking
His eyes opened and he had to squeeze them shut against the light. He tried again, slower to let them become acquainted with the brightness until the pain lessened. He blinked several times to clear the tears from his vision. He tried to lift his head and couldn’t. Slowly he turned it to the side. Someone was there, sitting in a blue cushioned chair. He thought it was Katelyn- either her, or he was dead and the stories of angels coming to lead away the dead were true. He blinked again to be sure she was really there. She wore a dress to match the color of the chair. A strand of her midnight hair was hanging loosely down her cheek. Her head was bowed as she read from the slim book in her slender hands.
He wanted to talk but his throat was so dry. “Hey,” he was able to utter in a soft raspy voice.
Fire And Ice (Book 1) Page 17
