She turned around and stood and faced the doorway before walking down the hall, and she ran her fingers around the thin gap between the wood and the stone of the wall. As she did so, she fused the frame shut with a hot, blue light that emanated from her fingertips. By the time she emerged into the open space of the courtyard, she was thoroughly pleased with herself.
“This will be most enjoyable,” she muttered as she walked toward the grove of polong trees that had supplied the castle with oil year round. “I so love the irony of it all,” she said as she incinerated the first tree with a ball of yellow fire. The oil laden tree burst into flame and exploded in an ear shattering boom that shook the entire courtyard. It rained burning droplets of fire upon everything in a two hundred yard radius. Those few thieves who still remained in the city nearly jumped out of their scabrous boots at the sound. “What has sustained this city for so many tiels shall now be the means by which it dies,” she laughed. “A fitting end to Talamar.”
One by one, she ignited the trees that lined the yard, and each one mushroomed with fire, sending flaming oil high into the air all around. Whatever else the oil fell upon too erupted into flame, until fire could be seen everywhere. By this time, no one remained within the city to extinguish the fires so they burned out of control and spread with a rapacious speed.
She bent down upon one knee and raised her face to the sky. The medallion around her neck glowed with an intense black light and illuminated her entire head.
“I claim this place in the name of Colton dar Agonthea, Lord of Darkness, Master of Destiny! May you join the other dead places upon this earth. Let this be Talamar’s first step on the pathway to dissolution. No one will live here ever again!” she bellowed.
The fires burned brighter and the buildings collapsed upon themselves in a cauldron of ruin and destruction. The heat was unbearable, but Margot felt nothing. The earth trembled with the fall of each edifice and the sidewalks cracked and flew apart. Black smoke rose high into the air, and it blocked out what sunlight still illuminated the dying city. What had once been the castle tower now lay in ruins before the broken and incinerated gates. Papers blew everywhere, flying up and down as if immune to the fires, and the dust of death choked the breath from even the lowliest of beasts who still remained amidst the devastation.
Well done, Margot, well done, a voice boomed inside her head.
She collapsed upon the ground prostrate, with her arms and legs extended.
It is a shame you failed previously in your attempt to capture the sisters, it continued in a sugary-sweet voice. Such a hollow victory it must be for you here, he said as if genuinely saddened for her.
“Yes, master. It is. I am sorry I failed you before. They escaped into the pit and were assisted by the beasts within,” she expounded feebly.
Was that an excuse, Margot? he asked, as innocently as could be.
“No, Master. Just an explanation is all. I have no excuse for not carrying out your orders,” she replied as she cowered before his words.
Her entire body ached to please him. She could think of nothing other than making him happy, and knowing that she was unable to do what he had asked her to do literally caused her physical pain. She cringed beneath it.
No excuse at all, he replied so kindly, though the malevolence seethed just below the surface.
“No, Master. No excuse at all,” she sobbed, frightened and drained.
You have given me Talamar, Margot. That will suffice for now, he said in a satisfied tone.
The elation that coursed through her body at his praise was immeasurable. She was ecstatic and so thoroughly mesmerized by him that she could barely breathe.
You will not let me down me the next time, will you? he asked, and his voice caressed her soul like a velvet glove upon her skin. There are others who clamor for the chance to replace you. If not for the disappointment it causes me, they would savor another failure on your part, knowing it would be your last, he said so calmly and soothingly that the tone veiled the mortal threat the words represented.
“Never again, my Lord. Never again,” she promised, and she savored even his reprimands.
Never again, he repeated. Now, see to it that nothing remains alive in this dreadful place. I do not want there to be even a kernel of life here after you leave. Do you understand me?
“Yes, my Lord. I understand perfectly well. It will be my pleasure,” she answered him, still spread eagled upon the ground.
Rise, my little one. Rise, he said, and her body began to ascend from the ground. Float upon my air, use my breath, partake of my power, he instructed her.
Filled with the rapture of him, she raised her arms and let the power inundate her until it began to shoot from all of her extremities in bolts of white fire, crashing and exploding into what little remained standing until the entire city was in ruins. She dropped to the ground in a standing position, still filled with his essence, and she basked in the glory of her accomplishment, though she was already beginning to feel the bitter pangs of his withdrawal. She tried to hold her breath and maintain what she could within her, but it was rapidly fading now. The disappointment was so great that she doubled over and almost collapsed to the ground, as she retched uncontrollably.
A deep depression consumed her spirit the moment he was gone, and she desperately surveyed the devastated landscape in order to elevate her mood once again. Breathing deeply, she relaxed her body and fought to accept his absence. She reminded herself of his words and that eased her pain, though the memory petrified her as well. She would not leave until she was certain that nothing breathed and nothing moved; absolutely certain! Fulfilling his commands was all that mattered. Talamar would soon be no more, a mere blackened smudge upon a heap of rubble.
“I will find you,” she vowed as she stood solitary amidst the debris. “You have caused him to be angry with me, and that I cannot bear. And when I do, even the Drue will not be strong enough to protect you!”
Margot spat upon the ground, threw her crimson cape over her shoulders, raised her arms once more and unleashed a whirlwind of white fire and unspeakable destruction that marked the final death knell of Talamar.
Chapter Twenty-five
“It is a sad rhyme, father. There seems so little hope and so much peril in Sidra’s declaration. Yet we must carry out her request nonetheless,” Caroline explained.
“If there is no chance of you succeeding, why must you try?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Caroline simply smiled at him and squeezed his arm tenderly.
“It is not that there is no chance. The words are not all doom and gloom, though they are not particularly encouraging. We still must determine exactly what she wishes us to do. We cannot simply ignore this,” she responded.
“You speak as if Sidra knew you would accompany him all along,” Conrad said, referring to the elf beside her. “Why must you be a part of this too?”
“Because I am, father. Sidra planted these ideas in his mind and then covered them with other memories. If we had not met, they may never have surfaced again,” she replied. “Only one such as I could have helped him to remember. It was meant to be. What a twist of fate that you arrived at our doorstep,” she said to Dalloway. “It was as if Sidra knew of my abilities and guided you here.”
Her father mumbled something to himself under his breath, but before Caroline was able to question him, Dalloway began to speak and she turned her attention to him once again.
“How were you able to restore my memory? One moment my mind was a blank tablet, and the next moment I remembered everything as if my past was lurking behind a door and you just opened it for me,” Dalloway asked, still somewhat dazed.
“I taught you how to speak from within, like the animals do, without words. All your memories were there, but they were disordered and they could not surface. Other things obscured them. Once the thoughts became clear, we merely had to organize them so that you could consciously remember them once again,” Car
oline explained.
“You make it sound so simple,” Dalloway replied.
“For me, it is not difficult. What is trying is to have to absorb so much of another living thing’s life, particularly when the memories are painful ones. With the animals, it is much simpler and clearer. Happiness and sorrow are more basic feelings, directly related to pleasures and pains. Today I have learned that with humans, that is not always the case,” she said.
“So I am more complicated than the animals?” he joked, and Caroline grinned.
“A bit more so, I would say. The layers of thought and memory are thicker and deeper. I am glad that I did not have to venture too far in order to find what Sidra intended me to. She was protecting you from having your thoughts stolen by one more unscrupulous than I, so it was good fortune that I intuited the proper path sooner rather than later.” Caroline said.
“Stolen?” he asked.
“Yes. What she has asked you to do is so important, and it would be dangerous for us all if it were to be discovered by the wrong people,” Caroline explained. “Her words were marked in a way that I cannot explain. It was like following a far away light in a dark passage, though I was continuously bombarded by stray thoughts and memories. When I located her message it obscured all else,” she continued.
“You were able to maintain your own identity, daughter. That is not how your mother described her experiences,” Conrad related with intense interest.
“I have much experience, though not with humans, father. I have perfected my art,” she replied.
“I should have known better than to doubt you, Caroline. My fear had been ruling my heart. You are a very strong girl,” he praised her.
“Woman, father. I am a very strong woman,” she assured him.
“Yes, no doubt. You are quite a strong woman, and I am quite the proud father,” he said, and his eyes clouded with tears. Stifling his emotions, he asked, “Knowing now to what lengths Sidra has gone to protect this message, what have your efforts revealed?”
“It seems that a map that has been tainted or poisoned in some way has disappeared from the place that it had been kept safe for many, many tiels.”
“A map, you say? What more did she say about it? Did she describe it?” Conrad asked, and he was growing more and more curious by the second.
“No, other than to refer to it as ‘blighted’,” she replied. “Dalloway, you are an elf of royal descent. You are more likely to know what this reference signifies. I sense that you have knowledge of the histories. My education and experience is limited. What does this mean to you?” she asked.
“Though I am no scholar, I do know that there are many places in the Tomes that refer to maps and charts and the like. My mother often read passages from the great books to me as a child. She is a very wise and learned woman. I cannot recollect them all though. But, what I do remember was that the Quest was always paramount in the chapters she preferred, so they almost always had to do with that subject,” he said. “One such chapter that I do recall quite well spoke of a parchment that was inscribed with directions to the First. I do not think that my mother ever believed it to be real, but merely a metaphor or a hope, and I also believe it was not merely what it appeared to be. Whether it was defiled or contaminated in some way I do not know. In that particular story, there was something not right about it, and it was not that it was inaccurate or misleading.”
“Your description of this item bears a striking resemblance to how Sidra represents it in your memory. Could this be what she wants us to find?” Caroline asked. “A map that leads to the First?”
“That would make sense,” Conrad said. “You said that it was blighted. That could mean many things. It could carry a poison upon its surface, it might lead those who follow it to an unholy place, or she could simply feel that it is destined to cause problems in some other way,” he speculated.
“What could be worse than having such a thing fall into the Dark Lord’s hands if in fact it is accurate and will lead its owner to the One Tree?” Dalloway asked, shuddering at the thought.
“I suppose,” Caroline said, thinking aloud. “The adjective describes the map, but I sense that the blight refers to the trouble that follows those who possess it. And, she said that the sisters carry it. Who are the sisters?”
“Sisters?” Conrad asked. “Can you be more specific? I must hear the entire text. Share this with me, Caroline. I am still in the dark here. I know Sidra. Perhaps I can help to interpret it,” he said, surprising both his daughter and Dalloway with this information.
Caroline’s back straightened. “You know her?” she questioned. “I thought you only knew of her. How do you know her?”
“It is a long story, my child, best left for another time,” he replied. “Suffice it to say, I know the woman and I know her well enough to be of some assistance here.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows.
“Do not think for a moment that I will forget to ask you again about this,” she answered. “For now though, we do have more important things to focus upon. The message that she implanted in his mind was in the form of a poem.”
“That is always how Sidra speaks. That is nothing unusual,” Conrad said knowingly.
Again, Caroline lifted her eyebrows at her father’s words.
“Always, father?” she asked, and immediately continued with the recitation of the poem:
“‘So much you can, so much you can’t
Choose those things you must
How loud you rave, how loud you rant,
We all return to dust.
Do what you may along the way,
Be brave, be strong, be true.
‘Tis not enough, idly by to sit
When destiny beckons you.
Seek it now, the blighted map,
Pluck it from their hands,
Lest it fall forever lost
Upon the daemon’s chest to land.
The sisters of the sacred place
know not what they do,
Forgive them the words their actions speak,
They are noble, through and through.
Lost in a moment of what he needs;
“The well at the end go seek!”,
Not all can be arranged just so,
The Drue find, the Drue keep.’”
Caroline finished reciting and she looked anxiously at her father.
“What do you make of it?” she asked.
Conrad barely hesitated before offering his explanation.
“True to her form!” he smiled. “Defiant and confusing at the same time. The sisters can be none other than the sisters of Parth. Sidra admired them always. She spoke of Parth in beautiful rhymes. I think that she even visited there once or twice, though she would never admit it,” he smiled. He was more animated than she had ever remembered him to be, and it was clear that his recollections of her were fond ones. “The map she speaks of must be the one we guessed; the one that bears the directions to the First.”
“Do they intend to hand it over to Caeltin D’Are Agenathea? Why?” Dalloway asked astounded. “I know of these women. They would not do such a thing willingly.”
“No. Listen closely,” Conrad instructed. “The well at the end has to be the one in the dead city of Odelot.”
“Are there no other wells? How can you be certain that is where they are headed? And they are to drop it down the well then?” Caroline asked.
“Certain, my daughter? I am not certain of anything. But, that is the only one that has always been referred to as the ‘Well at the World’s End’. Sidra too is from Odelot originally so she would most definitely know of it, though her memories are bitter since its demise. But surely Colton must know this as well by now, and she fears that he will be waiting for them at the bottom. Thus it will fall into his hands when they release it. That must be what Sidra is alluding to and what she fears.”
“Someone told these sisters to do this. The poem states it thusly. They are innocents and they have
been misled. By whom and why?” Dalloway questioned.
“I cannot tell from the context who ‘he’ is. It must have been someone they respected and trusted. The sisters of Parth have guarded this parchment since the beginning,” Conrad explained. “They would unlikely release it from their custody voluntarily unless…” he hesitated.
“Unless?” Caroline asked.
“Unless the directive came from a Chosen or a Lalas itself!” he said softly.
“You surprise me more and more, father. You seem to know so much about the outside world. Why have you kept this side of you secret from me all these tiels?” Caroline asked.
“For fear that you would become too interested in things that were happening beyond our home,” he confessed. “I sought to protect you from harm and to keep you here.”
“You have, father. You have. Thank you. But it is not necessary any longer,” she reassured him.
“I know that now, Caroline,” he said, and he gazed deeply into her eyes.
She smiled and dipped her chin in respect, and then paused contemplatively for a moment.
“Who are the Drue?” she then asked. “Is it the sisters they will keep, or have they already found the map and is that what they will not relinquish?”
“This, my dear daughter, I do not know,” Conrad replied. “But I am certain that Sidra would not send anyone on a hopeless quest. She is not frivolous in that manner, but deadly serious when it comes to things of import. Before that reference, do you see how she defies even the trees? ‘Not all can be arranged as so’,” he repeated. “If a Lalas sent them on what she considers to be a misguided mission, it would take someone with Sidra’s confidence to question them and even think that it should be thwarted.”
“Is her strength equal to her confidence?” Dalloway asked. “What I remember of her now leads me to believe that it is.”
“I, too, would be surprised if it was not. Sidra is not one to idly boast. Nor is she one to cower in the shade of a Lalas’ might. She is quite unusual,” he said admiringly. “Few deal on equal terms with the great trees. She is most definitely one of the few who does.”
The Shards Page 25
