Adrina kneeled now to get a better look as the chancellor set the scroll onto a nearby table. The chancellor twisted both ends of the scroll, bringing the scroll to life with a power Adrina had never seen before. She was about to cry out when she was grabbed from behind and a hand was clasped over her mouth. The strong hands held her as she stared on.
In the light cast by the scroll, she could see her brother Valam and he was speaking now. "Your Majesty, father, I use the power of the old ones as you've instructed. I have secured the things you have asked for and the time is at hand. As your lord of the Southern Province, I beseech you to let me command the broken armies of the North. My generals are faithful; I can restore order after Imtal as no one else in the land can. As your son, I implore you to enjoin the exodus and make your stay with me in the South. Your safety is my utmost concern."
The figure behind Adrina gripped her tighter now and whispered in her ear, "Leave this place at once. Tell no one what you saw or heard. I will join you in the gardens at sunset. You must act as if you haven't seen or heard a thing."
Adrina didn't say a word as she retreated from the passageway and her trembling didn't stop for several hours. She ate the evening meal in the great hall, quickly and quietly, and now as she waited in the garden, she couldn't even recall what she had eaten.
While she waited, Adrina stared into the deadly stillness of the garden. There was a time she had imagined that it contained all the colors of the world. Her mother, Queen Alexandria, had put the array of gardens together, flower by flower, into one great garden. Now her mother too was dead, a victim of the times in which they lived.
Adrina paced as she waited. The sun had already set by the time he approached and by then her tears were long gone. "Your turn at watch at an end so soon?" she asked him calmly.
"Your Highness, you know it is," he said, his voice surprisingly mild. "Sunrise and sunset mark the changing of the guard."
"Guardsman Emel," Adrina said several times, luring him to her. They had been friends practically since birth, and this was her way of reminding him of his place and that he had something she wanted.
"Acting Sergeant, Your Highness," he said abruptly.
Obviously, he was still angry for what she had done to him last summer and in a way Adrina didn't blame him. High Road was a lonely place to spend the winter. She tried to smile, but couldn't. "Acting Sergeant, who'd've guessed?"
Emel's pace quickened. "Just until Sergeant Stytt's group returns from the Free City."
"I could see to it that he is positioned there permanently," she said baiting him as she walked with him to the other end of the garden.
When they entered the shadows at the other end of the garden, Emel grabbed her arm by the elbow and pulled her as he ran to a side passageway. "What would you want in return?" he asked as he ran.
Adrina replied, "Information, that's all."
Emel grimaced. "You already know far too much. You must forget what you have heard."
"Or what?" Adrina's thoughts swirled. The voice of the lady in the tower echoed in her mind and all she could think about was finding out everything Emel knew. She linked her arm in his.
Emel pulled away from her. "I won't fall for your empty promises anymore."
Adrina edged closer, knowing it was hard for him to be cross with her when she was so close to him.
Emel glared at her. "Why haven't you talked to me until now?"
Adrina wanted to tell him about the lady in the tower. She longed to tell him more than anything but something wouldn't let her. "I've wanted to talk to you since your return. It was wrong for me to let you take all the blame."
"If I tell you the rest of what I know, do you promise to tell no one?"
Adrina nodded.
"I want to hear you say it."
"I promise, Emel. I will tell no one."
"In two days time Warmaster Gabrylle is taking a group of ridesmen out Braddabaggon way. He has chosen twelve to accompany him. He wouldn't say the purpose of the duty, but I can guess. When I return I will know for certain what is at hand. I will tell you then, I promise."
Adrina touched a spontaneous kiss to Emel's cheek and rushed away. She descended the long stairway into the central gardens and moved along the paths without really seeing much of what she passed. When she reached the far end, Adrina stopped and looked back toward the upper balcony.
Barely visible amidst the deepening shadows was a figure bent over the railing. Adrina knew it was Emel. She had always intended to make up for what she had done to him, but the time had never seemed right.
"I am sorry, Emel," Adrina whispered. "I do miss what we had."
Chapter Four
Imtal palace held an unusual silence even for the late hour of the night. Adrina tossed and turned, enduring a fitful dream from which she had awoken more than once. Minutes ticked by flowing into hours as unchanging as the night. An eternity later, the first rays of the day began to take the darkness from her chamber. It was then that she heard the voices.
A moment passed when she was unsure if the voices were real or in her head. She was almost certain the voices were imagined when she heard the coughs and sneezes of the old chancellor. Soon afterward, more voices and then the low, baritone moaning of Father Tenuus arrived. Adrina put on her robe and went to her door.
Far down the hall, she heard the chancellor call out and request admission to her father's chambers. As she peered out her door, she could see the guardsmen at her chamber door, standing rigidly at their post. The hall around them was a bustling thoroughfare as the king's elite guardsmen marched down the halls. Their shining armor and crimson breastplates showed combat readiness; they were much different from the parade uniforms they had worn at the ceremony the day before.
Adrina knew then that she couldn't go into the main hallway without being seen, so she went to the rear of her chamber and opened the secret door that led to the private hallway. The private hall, however, was not empty and its usual darkness was broken by torchlight. The one holding the torch was unfamiliar to Adrina, yet she wasn't afraid.
"The lady sent me," the torch holder whispered, "I am to watch over you."
Adrina wrapped her robe tightly about her and fully stepped into the hall.
With his free hand, the torch holder reached out to Adrina and touched her shoulder saying, "That which you wish to be, can be."
Adrina felt a wave of energy move through her, and then it was as if she was standing in her father's chamber. She could see and hear everything. Chancellor Yi was standing beside her father's bed, calling out to him, "Sire, please wake. Keeper Martin wishes to speak with you."
"A keeper," said King Andrew, rising up in his bed with a slow persistence determined by age. "At this hour? What is a keeper doing here at this hour?"
"Please sire," said the chancellor, "Keeper Martin says it is a matter of utmost import."
The monarch stretched arms to full length and began his long, slow turn to put feet to floor, causing the chancellor to scramble for the royal slippers.
"Keeper Martin did you say?"
"Yes sire, Keeper Martin, head of all the Keepers of the Lore," said Yi, sighing with relief, as he just barely placed the slippers as the king touched his feet to the hard, cold floor.
"What is Keeper Martin doing here at this hour?" King Andrew cleared sleep from his eyes. "A king needs his sleep you know, especially at my age."
The chancellor waited for the king to stand, saying, "I assure you sire, I wouldn't wake you unless it was a matter of import. Though the keeper would not address the matter directly, sire, there is a look about him, as if he has just returned from a very long journey—a look of fatigue in the eyes. It is unlike Keeper Martin to have an unkempt beard. He wishes to speak to you alone. Rather mysterious, I must say. I will go talk to him if it is your wish, sire, and tell him to come back at a more appropriate time."
The king raised a hand to the chancellor's shoulder, using it to lift heavy bones from hi
s plush bed. "There will be no need, Chancellor Yi. I am already roused. Tell him I will be along presently."
In her shadow form, Adrina was able to follow the chancellor and king as they entered the hall and joined Father Tenuus. Father Tenuus shot a worried scowl to the chancellor as he whispered, "I told you we should have waited a few more hours. Who is it that is here again, Keeper Q'yer or Keeper Martin? I always get the two mixed up."
"Come along and lower your voice!" said Chancellor Yi.
"Oh, that's right, the Keeper Q'yer is that nice, younger man. Keeper Martin is distinguished and graying… His hair, that is… It must be Keeper Martin that has arrived."
"You're the one that's graying, and it's not your hair," said Chancellor Yi in a barely audible voice as he strode away down the hall. He drowned the priest's further comments by blowing his reddened nose a few dozen times into a long white handkerchief.
While Adrina looked on, a still drowsy king greeted the great Lore Keeper. She chuckled a bit at her father's dowdy appearance in his night robe and slippers, and at his gauche waddle due to the slickness of the smooth floor. The special significance of the meeting struck her suddenly, especially when private chambers were entered without Chancellor Yi. This was further compounded by the arrival of a second visitor shortly after the two had entered the chamber and closed the door.
The distinct robes of office were an easy clue as to the man's identity as he removed his riding cloak and wrapped it over his arm. Father Jacob was first minister to King Andrew, head of the priesthood, and there was no mistaking the great swirling circles of white that decorated the sleeves of his otherwise black robe.
A visit by both men, especially at this late hour, was unprecedented—and in her mind, Adrina found only one answer. As she gasped in despair, the vision ended. She found that she was standing alone in the darkened hall. The torch holder was gone and she was suddenly exhausted.
She returned to her bed and quickly found sleep. Dreams were soon to follow, but at first she didn't see the creature in her dream, only the young man.
Vilmos' father did not come home until late that evening. He had been delayed in a special advisory session. Apparently, a series of bear attacks had taken place in Two Falls Village a day's ride to the north and huntsmen and trackers from the surrounding villages were preparing to track down the great black bear before it could kill again.
Vilmos, who had been listening closely, rolled a bit too far in bed and hit his head. Though the sudden pain brought tears to his eyes, he didn't utter a sound. Fleeing from the pain had grown easier over the past few days and the call of the vale was especially strong toward evening. He closed his eyes, forgetting that the return trek was never as easy as the initial folding of thoughts, one on top of the other.
Vilmos inhaled and folded his thoughts. The vale appeared. He walked to the edge of a cliff overlooking the vale. The sunset in the distance was breathtaking just as he had imagined, but a chilling breeze blew through the vale—a wind that had never before been cold.
Something felt different, as if he were not alone. Worriedly, Vilmos scanned the little vale, its steep walls, its large open floor. He found nothing and believed he was indeed alone.
He became a great taloned eagle, fearless and swift. The dive from his favored cliff was accomplished in one powerful leap. Wings sliced the air and made it sing. Down into the vale's depths the eagle swept, its keen eyes instantly spotting its prey. An unsuspecting valley hare was the intruder in his domain. He would crush its life and then he would indeed be alone.
In razor sharp talons, Vilmos swept up the valley hare. The warm and fleshy creature writhed pitifully and cried out for escape. The eagle did not heed its cry, but a part of Vilmos did and he forced the great eagle to release the hare.
"Do you know what it is that you are doing?" called a voice into his mind.
Vilmos was startled. The voice was somehow familiar and momentarily the vision of the eagle faltered. For an instant Vilmos stood on the cliffs staring into a cold northerly wind. Then he was propelled back into the razor-taloned eagle.
"It is called non-corporeal stasis, an out of body experience," said the voice with evident wisdom.
The vision of the eagle faded, yet the cliff was not the place to which Vilmos returned. Instead, he stood in the middle of the valley and searched in all directions for the source of the mysterious voice. "What does that mean? Are you here to take me away?"
"Look!" the voice commanded in a tone that was strangely compelling. "Look about you. What do you see?"
Vilmos did as bid. "I see the valley."
"Yes that is correct, now look beyond the valley. Extend your thoughts and open your mind. Now what do you see?" The voice flowed with warmth and again Vilmos sensed a familiarity in it.
"I see only the valley."
"No," said the other angrily, "Look, look again. Search beyond the valley. What do you see?"
Vilmos didn't like this game and clenched his fists in anger. "I see nothing!"
"Open the window to your soul. You will see."
Compelled to do as told Vilmos looked inside himself, he saw the door to his soul and he opened it. Beyond in the shadows he saw himself, lying in his bed in his father's house.
"What do you see?"
"Nothing!" Vilmos screamed, lying openly.
"What do you see? " the voice commanded.
Vilmos said, his voice filling with surprise, "But how, I don't understand?"
"That is what the experience is. Your body remains on the physical plane and your spirit searches beyond. You were truly flying. You really were the lone eagle flying over a valley of your own creation." The ominous voice seemed to close in on Vilmos. "You are a master of non-corporeal stasis, yet do not forget that all things have mirrors on the physical plane."
"How is this possible?" Vilmos asked.
"Think, before you speak. Look within, you know it is possible." The tone of the voice became sinister. "As is everything."
Vilmos felt the urge to go home.
"But Vilmos you are home," said the voice, "This is your home."
Vilmos shivered. "I want to go home; I am afraid."
"Well you should be, Vilmos, you should be very afraid."
Great black eyes drew up before Vilmos.
"This experience leaves your physical self completely without defense, open to attack from any force that wishes to enter."
Vilmos jumped back, his face drawn, pale with shock. His body shivered beyond his control. Everything within him told him to run, to hide, though he could not. It was then he recognized the voice. It was then his panic grew to despair and he feared for his very soul. "It is you, the one from my nightmares. Have you come for me?"
"Yes it is," said the voice with mocking overtones, "it is I."
Vilmos remained absolutely still; only his own gasping breaths broke the silence, nothing more. He looked out over the once peaceful valley, only now regaining the vantage point of the cliff as he fought to focus his mind. He felt alone, very alone, though he knew he wasn't. He cocked his head, left and right, forward and back, searching and waiting to hear the voice again to ensure he wasn't daydreaming.
"Where are you? Show yourself," Vilmos called out.
The only answer Vilmos received was the sound of wind rushing over the point and the returning echoes of his voice as it faded away and blended into the wind. The vale was empty. The ridge, empty.
"Looking for me?" came a voice from behind him.
Vilmos jumped. His heart pumped faster and faster. Breathing became taxing. It seemed he could not grasp any air. He spun around, faltering and falling to the hard, rocky surface of the vantage point. He pulled himself to his feet and shook defiant fists at the empty air.
"I will not hurt you," said the now charismatic voice from behind him.
Vilmos spun around again. "Where are you? Show yourself."
"I am here," returned the voice.
Vilmos turned to look in th
e direction of the voice and found an old man standing in plain view. He was by far the oldest man Vilmos had ever seen. His appearance was one of such frailty and weakness that Vilmos imagined a heavy wind lifting him from his feet and casting him about in the air like a feather.
The aged man, leaning his weight against a long misshapen walking stick, edged poised lips closer to Vilmos' ear. "Do not let the body fool you, boy. The body is fleeting, the spirit eternal. I will not blow away in the wind."
Instantly a cold, harsh wind blasted across the point. With each passing second, it increased in force until it was a gale of hurricane strength. Vilmos found he could no longer stand. He crouched to his knees and then hunkered down on his belly. The old man did not so much as twitch.
"Please stop!" Vilmos screamed.
"I cannot," said the old man, "Only you may stop it."
The wind dragged Vilmos to the edge of the cliffs. His feet dangling over empty air, Vilmos clawed at the rocks, trying desperately to maintain his grip. "I don't know how to stop it. Let me go, I want to go."
"Then surely you shall perish." The man spoke sternly, his voice lacking any hint of remorse.
Vilmos trembled and never stopped clawing at the rocks. "Do you mean die?"
"As surely as you were born."
Truth in the other's words stung Vilmos, similar to the dirt in his eyes. He knew without a doubt he would perish if he failed. Through a haze of dust, Vilmos saw the man, standing straight and tall, tall as the twisted staff he carried. He faced the wind, his stance still did not vary and then suddenly the man did not appear so aged. Somehow, he seemed different, as if Vilmos saw another standing in the old man's place.
Vilmos' knees went over the edge of the cliffs. He began screaming wildly, "I do not deny your powers are beyond my grasp, but I don't understand the point of the test. I don't know what to do."
"Vilmos, use that which you already know. Use the skills you possess. Use them now." The man spoke powerfully.
Compelled by the enchantment of the voice and desperation, Vilmos concentrated, trying to make the wind stop. He clasped his eyes together, held his breath, clenching his fists so firmly his fingernails dug into his palms. Nevertheless, the wind continued to lash at him with increasing vigor.
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