Valkarr let out a roar of laughter. “I have known you all my life, my friend, my brother. Wherever you go, you bring change and draw others together. Your heart and your spirit, however, do not change. I think it is this Aetheria that will do the discovering.”
His friend clapped his shoulder and then passed through the opening. The Sil’ath warriors broke into a loping, mile-eating run on the path, never looking back, and were soon lost to sight. Amric closed the Way and stood in silence.
Halthak drew his attention with a gentle clearing of the throat. “He was right, you know.”
“How do you mean?” Amric asked with a slight frown.
“You brought us together,” the healer responded. “Each of us a half-breed in our own way, caught between worlds just as you are, at home in none. Some of us cannot hide our heritage, like me and Syth. Some carry deeper secrets, like Bellimar. Like you. And then there was Thalya, never truly allowed her own existence. You drew the best from each of us, gave us purpose.”
Amric laughed and shook his head. “You do me far too much credit, Halthak. You make it sound as if I had some grand plan all along, when you know I did not.”
Halthak rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “You drew together those you needed at the time you needed them most,” he said with a crooked smile. “Call it magic or fate, instinct or leadership, it was somehow enough.”
Amric shook his head, but did not pursue the matter further. “And what of you two?” he asked. “Where can I send you before I go?”
Syth leapt to his feet, anger twisting his features. “I wish to pay Morland a visit,” he snarled. “That putrid piece of filth will answer for what he has done, for what he did to my Thalya.”
“He already has,” Amric answered gently. “I read Bellimar’s intent, when he shared my mind. That was the reason for his haste in departing. It was the last task he had set for himself.”
Syth froze, searching Amric’s expression. His fury guttered and died as comprehension stole over his drawn features, and his eyes became once more windows onto his grief. “Oh,” he muttered, sagging back. “I see. I am going to miss that old man.”
“And I as well, Syth,” Amric replied in a voice that was almost a whisper. “I as well.”
Syth lifted his chin, some of the fire returning, and said, “Then I am going with you. There is nothing left for me here, and I would leave this world behind to tread upon another.”
Amric started to object, but Halthak cut in with soft, adamant words. “I am going with you as well.”
The warrior looked from one to the other. He knew he could bring them through the portal with him, if he chose. The Gate itself had been eager to share such secrets with him. He had no idea what to expect on the other side, however, except that it would be dangerous beyond measure. It was an unknown world of high magic, peopled by powerful, ruthless beings. Xenoth had made it clear that wildings were not suffered to live in Aetheria, and he did not yet know if he could conceal his nature there. Even if he could, someone had ordered his parents slain long ago, and him as well, in a standing order that had lasted to this day. There was no guarantee that he would be able to blend in, and even less assurance that these two could. They would all be intruders in a strange land.
Furthermore, if neither his wilding nature nor an old vendetta against his family was enough to get them all killed, there was the matter of their mission; they would be there with the express purpose of disabling the ancient artifacts upon which that world depended. Artifacts they would fight to preserve. Artifacts he had no idea how to destroy.
And, lest he forget, there would be the growing scourge of the Nar’ath there, planning the destruction of all.
As comforting as it would be to have friends on the other side, he might well be leading them directly into death’s gaping maw. The wry thought arose, unbidden: And how would that differ from everywhere else you have led them? Next time, however, would he be able to lead them back out again?
He sighed, closing his eyes. He kept coming back to Halthak’s words, just moments ago. Caught between worlds just as you are, at home in none.
He opened his eyes, and looked upon his companions again. They stared back with quiet resolve. He could see that they knew as well as he did what they all faced, and that they recognized the consequences failure would bring. They did not have a lifetime of battle experience or a newfound wild magic to rely upon, and still they were determined to accompany him.
Amric turned to face the Essence Gate. Syth and Halthak stepped up to either side of him. They gazed up at the solemn majesty of the ancient device, and its rhythmic pulsing seemed to quicken almost imperceptibly in anticipation. The wind whispered through the forest once more, though whether it spoke encouragement or warning, he could not say. Amric began walking toward the Gate, and the two men matched his pace. He gathered his will as he went, extending it to include the others. The portal shimmered and beckoned before them.
Endings and new beginnings, he thought to himself as they passed beneath the shadow of the great stone arch. Farewell, and hello again.
He strode forward and into its embrace.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael J. Arnquist works as a software engineer, mostly because he heard the phrase ‘starving artist’ a few too many times while growing up. His true loves, vocationally speaking at least, have always been fiction writing, cartooning and illustration.
Michael lives in the Pacific Northwest with his lovely wife, two beautiful daughters, and entirely too many dogs and cats for any one household.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
The Essence Gate War: Book 01 - Adept Page 55
