by Thomas Locke
“Unity,” Dally said.
“The treaty barring me from entering human territories was set in place by the Ancients. And yet it is their power which imbued me with the message. Which caused me to call out for one of your kind to take heed.”
Dally realized the dragon was trying to excuse his arrival. “Your coming saved us.”
“I acknowledge this fact, Lady Dahlrin. Just as I accept that I am now involved in your struggle.” He took a step back, causing Dally to release her hold. Then he extended his wings fully so that she viewed the raging rivers and the waterfall’s steam and the clearing sky through his gigantic frame. “To know a dragon’s name is to bind it to a fealty beyond the reach of human time. Lady Dahlrin, I am Tragan, king of the northern reaches and all who call it home.”
Dally tried to respond. But at that moment she wept too hard to speak.
“When you have recovered, you and Jaffar will come to me. And Alembord. And the Lady Edlyn. A representative of the Elves. Hyam, if he is able. And any others of your company whom you care to include. Bryna must travel as well. You must inform the Ashanta high council that I insist upon her presence. We will speak of the future, and of the now.”
Dally took several hard breaths, then managed, “Bryna’s people will object.”
“Those who oppose the unity are to sip water laced with Joelle’s gift. Some will remain against bonding with outsiders. Most, however, will realize they allowed themselves to be tainted by the enemy’s spell.”
Edlyn exclaimed, “They allowed themselves?”
Tragan shifted his gaze. He did not speak, nor did he need to. His displeasure over Edlyn’s interruption was clear enough.
Edlyn responded by dropping to her knees. He watched her for a time, then turned back to Dally and continued, “A drop of Joelle’s life elixir will do for the entire Ashanta Assembly. As it will for you and your own company. Another for Hyam. And one more for those humans who have been tainted by this dark force. Hold the rest in case of another assault by our foe.”
“I will do as you say.” Dally stared up at the crystal head. “I did not allow the enemy to invade me.”
“Not willingly. But you are the stranger. As is Hyam. You both have abilities that redefine the boundaries of human magic. And rendered you vulnerable to the enemy’s poison.In fact, I would say reaching beyond the physical constraints refines you as more than human, young one. What is more, your greatest events come to you when you make contact with Elven magic. It renders you . . .”
She cried, “Tell me!”
“I have no clear notion,” the dragon replied. “And in such a vital moment, I will not deal in supposition.”
“Perhaps it is part of my quest,” Dally said.
“Deliver Joelle’s gift. Drink of it. Heal. When you are ready, child of the young race, come to me.”
Tragan unfolded his massive wings once more. He extended his neck fully, roared to the sky . . .
And dissolved.
The portal vanished. Jaffar had time for a final salute, then he was gone as well.
62
The Ashanta were there to greet Hyam when he returned to his home village.
Bryna stood alongside Dally, sharing a smile that trembled with all the emotions it represented. Dally found it necessary to wipe her eyes, along with many of the others gathered there, but her emotions were her own. For her, the time held an almost overpowering sense of farewell. She knew more keenly than ever that this village was no longer hers to claim. She might return. She might dwell here for a night or a season. But it would always be as the outsider she had become.
By then most Ashanta had drunk of the elixir. One drop was all she had placed within the vast stone cauldron. The leader of their Assembly had drunk, and afterward he had stood there for a very long time, his face turned toward the sun, staring at nothing. Then he had ordered the Ashanta warriors to bring forward all those opposed to joining with their allies. Drag them, if necessary. Not all had retracted their demands for isolation. But most had. And now the Ashanta had another word for those who sought to hold themselves apart from their allies.
They were called the afflicted.
A new battle standard had been designed by the gathering of leaders. On a shimmering white background had been written one word in three tongues, Ashanta and human and Elven.
Unity.
The new standards lined the portal’s entryway as Hyam arrived on a pallet carried by four allies. Meda gripped one handle, as did Connell and an Elven warrior and an Ashanta guard. Shona stood front and center to greet them. When the weakened emissary smiled her way, she knelt by his pallet and wept.
They waited while Hyam and the new queen exchanged words none could hear. There was no hurry now. The valley was perhaps the safest region in all the realm, rimmed as it was by Ashanta Seers and patrolled by Elven scouts and guarded by Shona’s own troops. Across the valley from where they stood, a broad avenue was being carved into the forest. A similar highway was under construction through the forest fronting Falmouth Port. Many names were being tossed about by those who worked on the impossible road intended to draw together the queen’s two enclaves, separated as they were by over a month’s trek through hostile terrain and enemy-controlled fiefs. None of this mattered today. The road was started. It would be finished. Everyone gathered here was certain of that. It had become the symbol of a future. One built upon safety. And hope. And the enemy’s eventual defeat.
Hyam was a mere shadow of his former self. His frame was gaunt, his limbs pale as old bones, his eyes feverish. But his smile was genuine. As was his greeting when they brought his pallet over to where Dally stood. “The first thing I heard upon awakening was my wife calling me back to life.”
“I heard her as well, my lord,” Dally said. “It was a joy to meet her.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” His hand reached out and touched his wolfhound’s head. “Then I opened my eyes, and there by my bed stood Dama.”
Dally smiled at Hyam’s new wolfhound. “I am so glad you two have bonded, my lord.”
He continued to stroke the dog’s head. “You really must call me Hyam. What are titles between friends?”
63
Elven warriors were spaced precisely along the forest trail that led from Honor village. The path had not been used in years and was almost lost in places, though Shona’s troops had cut back the worst of the overgrowth. Hyam appeared to drift in and out of slumber, waking when the sunlight filtered down through the vast trees lining their way. Their company included a remarkable assortment of peoples—village elders from the length and breadth of Three Valleys, mages from Falmouth and the local Long Hall, Elves and Ashanta. Dally saw Jaffar wave to her from his position beside Ainya, the Elven queen. Dally looked forward to their first face-to-face conversation.
Just then, however, she was drawn around by Shona, who said, “Hyam asks that you join him now.”
Their destination was an oval field that defied the forest’s encroachment. It had not seen a human hand in years, but it still held the precise furrows of a careful plowing.
Hyam was seated on the pallet’s edge, which rested alongside a small, bubbling spring and a farmer’s shack. He reached out an arm to Dally and said, “Help me up.”
He needed far more support than she could manage alone. Connell and Shona helped him cross the deep furrows. At a gesture from Hyam, Edlyn and Myron and Ainya all moved forward with them. Hyam’s footsteps were little more than light contacts with the earth. He moved with his eyes tightly shut and his face turned to the sun.
He said, “Stop here.” He breathed deeply, then said, “Move to the right. A bit farther. Now straight ahead two paces.”
He stood there, eyes clenched shut, breathing in and out like a weakened bellows. Heaving the air in and out, tasting it with all his might. Then he turned to Shona and asked, “Do you feel it, old friend?”
“Who are you calling old?” Shona revealed a most delicate smile. S
he closed her eyes, concentrated, then replied, “Nothing.”
“Connell?”
“What precisely are we after here?”
Hyam’s response was to ask Edlyn, “My lady?”
“I have no idea what you are going on about.”
He then turned to her. “Dally?”
She had already sensed something. But it unsettled her so much she had been reluctant to do more than stand there and observe the three men. “I’m not . . .”
Hyam’s strained and exhausted features rearranged themselves into a smile of genuine approval. He said to the others, “Leave us, please.”
64
When the others had retreated back across the oval field, Hyam said, “I want you to do something for me.”
The power still coursed up through her feet, filling her with a sense of sheer potency, such that her voice trembled slightly. “What?”
“Mistress Edlyn has told me a little of your background, and the fear you harbor over your own potential.” Hyam gave that a moment, then finished, “I want you to trust me.”
“I’ll . . . try.”
“Excellent. I’m too weak to accomplish what is required, you see. And it probably requires one who can make the connection.”
“Probably?”
His smile came more easily this time. “What we’re going to try here has not been done in centuries. Longer.”
She licked dry lips. “I don’t understand.”
Hyam eased himself down to sit upon the earth. “This land has been in my family for generations. No one could explain why the forest did not encroach. But every new season, we would arrive to find it as you see. The trees and the animals and even the weeds were kept back. And the land accepted our seeds almost greedily. My uncle taught me never to plant a handful, as is normal, for they would all grow and choke each other.”
Dally dropped down beside him. The growth lay tight to the earth, the furrows still deep enough that she could cross her ankles and sit comfortably. “What caused such conditions?”
“Precisely. That is the question I awoke to. And you are here to supply the answer.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because,” Hyam said, “I already see it in your hands.”
“I don’t understand. See what?”
“Stand up, Dally. Shut your eyes. Now extend yourself downward. Far as you can. Tell me what you sense.”
She did as he instructed, though it terrified her. But here the fear was different from what she had known before. The potential alarmed her. “I don’t think I can control it.”
“But we’re not after control, and you know it. What do we seek?”
She knew the answer as clearly as if it was scripted upon her closed eyes. “To channel it.”
“Very good. Excellent, in fact. Now tell me what you sense.”
“Rivers of power.”
“And something more, yes?”
She felt his words press at her. Pushing her to reach down into the flowing power itself, seek with a confidence that was not her own, and discover, “There’s something . . .”
“An orb.”
She heard Hyam rise to his feet but felt no desire to open her eyes. She was bonded now, linked to something that seemed to sing in harmony to her heart’s song. “What is . . .”
“You know. Don’t you? It is yours.” Hyam began retreating across the field. She knew because she heard his voice moving away. “It has been waiting thousands and thousands of years for you to come here and stand where you are. And call to it.”
The sensation grew in harmony to Hyam’s words. An accord that reached through the earth and rock below her feet, bonding her to the unseen orb.
“It is time for you to claim the orb, Dally,” Hyam called with a strength that suggested he shared at least a trace of this same force. “Invite it upward. Bring it into . . .”
Hyam stopped speaking because she had already started the process. She did not know what to do, but knowledge was not required here. She asked, and the orb answered.
Dally lifted her hands. The sunlight seemed to coalesce and reach down through her body, deep into the earth, joining with the orb. She could see it now, the globe shining with such intensity she could observe its rise through the impossible depths.
Then the earth cracked and shifted and groaned and opened. Dally did not open her eyes. She was too intently focused upon the potency.
The orb fitted into her hands as though it had been fashioned to be gripped by her. And her fingers formed to hold it.
She lifted the orb over her head. She arched her back with the sheer exultation of feeling the flowing currents rise and course through her body. Fill the orb with the triumph of being brought into the here and now.
Dally opened her eyes.
Hyam stood to her right, laughing softly.
Before her stretched the assembled company of humans and Elves and Ashanta rimming the forest perimeter. Illuminated by a light that changed color as it streamed over them. Blue and gold and lavender and green and purple and orange and blue again.
Dally would have remained there for hours, days even. But Hyam walked back and touched the orb, drawing the power down to where it murmured softly in her mind.
Together they walked back to the company, where Hyam said to the Ashanta leader, “I would ask a boon.”
“Anything, Emissary.” The old man in his white robes gaped at the orb in Dally’s hands. “Anything at all.”
“Build me a cottage upon the point where the orb emerged,” Hyam said. “A haven where I can sit and heal and return to life again.”
The Ashanta bowed low. “It will be done as you have requested.”
65
No one showed any interest in leaving the field that was to become Hyam’s place of healing. The villagers and Elves brought together an impromptu feast. Shona settled down on Hyam’s other side, then refused to accept the orb when Dally offered it. As did Edlyn and Connell and Myron in turn.
Hyam explained, “There is a joining process that is required between an orb and its mistress. Give yourself time to fully understand what this means.”
Dally’s entire frame shook from the first fragmented implication. “The orb’s mistress?”
Ainya kept Hyam from needing to respond by stepping forward and gesturing to the orb. “Might I have that for a moment?”
When Hyam smiled and nodded, Dally handed it over. The Elven queen handed it to Vaytan, her aide. Dally decided there would be no better time to say, “Lady Shona, I would ask permission to offer fealty.”
To her utter astonishment, Hyam said, “I think not.”
“I agree,” Edlyn said.
“Why ever not?” Dally looked from one face to the next. “You all have.”
Connell settled down on Dally’s other side. “What they mean is, your quest is not yet clear.”
“I found the vial and brought it back,” Dally pointed out.
“The vial, the vial.” Hyam stretched out his legs. “I was lost in the darkness and the mists. Then they forced yet another dose between my lips and made me swallow. And Joelle spoke to me, calling me back.” His smile was tinted with genuine sorrow. “I suppose I should thank you.”
“You most certainly should,” Trace said. “You scamp. To even question it is to scorn your beloved’s gift.”
Dally sensed Connell’s closeness, a warmth that kindled the fires of her heart. She turned to him and found herself held by his gaze. He said softly, “May I have a word?”
She rose and followed him across the field, over to where a toolshed stood by a small pool. He stared intently at the water, as if seeking guidance or strength. “I don’t know how to say what I feel I must.”
Dally felt her heart hammer with such intensity she feared it might spring from her chest. Even so, she heard herself say calmly, “Speak the words, Connell. If you don’t, I will.”
He looked at her. “You too feel something between us?”
&nbs
p; “Since the moment I first saw you.”
He sighed. “All this time I feared, well . . .”
“I had my fears as well,” Dally said. “You from a fine family, with a heritage that stretches back generations.”
“You with incredible gifts,” Connell replied. “And a role to play in all our futures.”
“Only if someone with more wisdom and experience will offer a guiding hand.”
Connell’s gaze burned with an uncommon flame. “Say there will be a time for us.”
“For us.” She both whispered the words and sang them. “And soon.”
They sat and stood, looking westward over the sunlit field. The shadows were lengthening now, the forest scents stronger in the hot air. Not a trace of wind touched them. Dally could still feel the flavor of Joelle’s gift upon her tongue, though it had been over a month since she tasted the elixir. For an instant she felt as though she could see the beautiful woman hovering there in the light. Dally wiped her eyes, hoping for a clearer look. But all she saw was sunlight, and then the Elven queen standing before her, smiling and holding a most remarkable staff.
“My lady.” Ainya held it out. “You may find this an easier way to carry your orb.”
The staff was as long as she was tall. Its entire polished length was inscribed with letters that looked as though they had grown into the wood. Dally accepted it, hefted it, and exclaimed, “It weighs nothing!”
“Here, watch what I do and how I speak.” Ainya chanted a brief plainsong, and the roots gripping the orb slipped back. She lifted the jewel, then settled it into position and chanted once more, regrowing the roots. “Now you try.”
As with all the other spells she had learned, Dally felt as though she did not speak the words but rather greeted them as they emerged from somewhere deep inside. All the mages stared at her in astonishment—all save Edlyn, whose smile competed with the Elven queen’s for brilliance.
