Bridge Between the Worlds

by R. B. L. Gillmore

  “You would try to assuage my fear that you may be reckless by saying you take after your father?”

  He chuckled a little again.

  “I can only begin to imagine how Laszlo and your mother have changed since they left but clearly they have grown wiser if you refer to your father as an example of caution. My dear princess, when your father was but an adolescent he left his homeland without word or warning to follow a man he had never met before in his life on a perilous adventure with little hope of success, and not long after succeeding, also had the cheek to ask your mother, an elven princess, for her hand in marriage.”

  It surprised Amy to hear somebody speaking this way about her father, like Arnorial was some kind of family elder speaking about a mischievous but much loved grandchild. She was used to people treating her father with deep respect and admiration.

  “You speak like you have known my parents all their lives. How did you know them exactly?”

  “They never mentioned me?” asked Arnorial, though it sounded rhetorical. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t have. They could not have raised you to believe in elves living in another world, you would have been ridiculed and mistreated by ignorant children, or have been found by the enemy even sooner. Your mother, father and I journeyed far together in the war against Gorhoth long ago, seeking the aid of the Arbiters that we might destroy his dark creation and cast him down. It was a quest for which your mother was chosen, by fate if you will. For the prophet marked her with the star of ages. Your father pledged himself to assist her as the representative of all humans in the war. If they failed, it was his people who would suffer most. As for myself, I was sworn to protect your mother from the day she was born. I did not take to the task gladly, for I had already failed to protect your grandmother. I argued that I was not worthy but your grandfather, Teldenar, would not have it otherwise and his wish was ever my command.

  In that task I did not wholly fail and now your mother has gone beyond the reach of my protection. Yet see how fate deals us all a hand filled with the unexpected turns of an ever growing tale. In place of your mother, the prophet has sent you to me. Of that I am sure. He knows that I am bound by the law of my order to protect you and he has sent you to me, marked even as he had marked your mother. It is a pity your parents could not have taught you more of your history. It is never good to be thrown into a great tale without any knowledge of what has come before you.”

  “But they did!” exclaimed Amy with excitement.

  She had not thought of it before but Arnorial’s explanation about the great war and the star of ages had reminded her of the stories. Her parents had read them to her from a great big book when she was a girl. She finally realised why the name Arnorial sounded so familiar. She had not linked the childhood fairytales to the present until now but on doing so she saw just how clever her parents had been. The fairytale stories weren’t fairytales at all! They were her family history, told in the only way they could safely be passed on. She explained this rapidly to Arnorial.

  “A wise plan. There are many powers in the world, some ancient and benevolent, others dark and terrible, their existence a fantastic secret. All fairy tales in Otthon have at least some degree of truth about forces which sleep but remain. They are passed on in case future generations should live to see them awaken.”

  “I guess my parents have been preparing me for this my whole life…”

  Arnorial decided it would be best to explain everything he could but he would not allow the girl to become caught up in the dangerous skirmishes of the no-man’s-land. How easy would it be for her to fall into the enemy’s hands, he wondered with fear?

  “Very well. This outpost lies just outside the reach of Gorhoth’s forces on the eastern border of his realm. The southern end of this forest lies at the feet of mount Dremor, once home to a fair pass through the twilight range. Now it is filled with his hungry mining operations. This place was built by the willing hands of those who have been rescued from slavery in those mines. It is secure and hidden for the time being but our last raid stirred a vicious response. I do not think it will be safe to attempt rescue again except through dire confrontation. I am deeply reluctant to try this, for this is no army, no matter how strong willed and courageous. In truth they are no match for the garrison at the mines. I was, in fact, on my way to scout the enemy’s movements when I found you. I had barely set off. A man travelling light and swift may come to the high pass in a little over two days and an elf travels faster but I was merely a few hours along the way when I felt the presence of some incredible power echoing out from a point behind me in the forest. That is, as you can see, how we met.”

  Amy looked around at the people going to and fro, or eating quietly nearby. Their grim demeanour was now somewhat explained. She could scarcely comprehend what it must have been like to live as a slave and was disgusted at the thought of people being enslaved at all.

  “How many people are still stuck in those mines?” she asked hotly.

  “Many hundreds Amriel but already I see somewhat of your thoughts. Rescues must be carefully planned and it is impossible to free so many in one attempt. The trick is speed, to be in and out before the enemy has time to react. More importantly, I will not allow you to come so close to the enemy’s borders. You are too important, too inexperienced and know little about this world, not even its geography. If we were to be separated it would prove disastrous. No, we must change plans in light of your appearance here. Probably I will take you back to our home in the western woods for a time so that you may take time to learn and train.”

  “Oh, I’ve already started training with the Arbiter,” Amy said, glad to have some kind of experience which Arnorial might consider valuable. She was still struggling to come to grips with Arnorial’s age. He had said that he had protected her grandmother, which meant he could easily be a hundred years old. Still, she wanted to impress him. As it happened, Arnorial did not seem surprised or impressed by her statement.

  “I imagine the training is but barely begun, and dreamwalking alone will not protect you here. You are not in your homeworld anymore Amriel. Who knows what differences there may be! Here at least it is unusual to start using magic at such a young age. I predict that your world contains only humans. If they are anything like the humans of this world they would not start to command magic until roughly their thirtieth year. Is it not the same?”

  “I…” Amy began but she realised she was about to prove Arnorial’s point.

  There was no sense in lying.

  “We can’t use magic on earth. Not real magic at least.”

  Arnorial raised his eyebrows at her which, on his fine featured face, had a profound effect.

  “Fascinating!” he exclaimed. “But if magic does not bind the forces of the world together…” he paused and shook his head. “I am getting distracted. I would like very much to learn more about your ‘Earth’ but this is not the time. As I feared, you will not have even a basic understanding about the powers of Otthon. That alone makes clear to me the path we must take from here. We will return to Aeron.”

  With that he rose from the table and proceeded to pick up the sleeping form of Martay as if he was a ragdoll, which was bizarre given that they were roughly the same size. “Come,” he said “you shall rest now while I take council with some of the wardens.”

  Amy didn’t bother to try and argue. She wanted to help those people who were trapped but either Arnorial’s remarks had tempered her thinking or he had overestimated the level of reckless courage she possessed. Amy did not feel a strong compulsion to disagree with Arnorial and his suggestions. One remaining question was all she ventured to ask as she followed him to a tree hung with hammocks.

  “Forgive me for asking but where is Aeron exactly? I don’t actually recognise the name.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. In time gone by it was called by another name. Aldonnenorszag it was called, the blessed land, but now it is fading and growing lesser. Aeron men now call it because l
ike unto the air, the physical presence of the elves is gone and the only power that remains is felt but not seen. Nevertheless, I shall be glad to return. It is now some years since I have been home and small count though that may be in the long span of my life, it does not lessen my yearning.”

  “Home…” repeated Amy quietly. Arnorial was clearly talking about the great forest realm where the elves had lived in the stories of her parent’s. It occurred to Amy that it must have been her mother’s home at one time. She wondered at this. Arnorial had said that he yearned for it after only a few years away. Her mother had permanently cut herself off from it to protect Amy. She was starting to understand more fully the sacrifice her parents had made for her sake. Another thought also occurred to her as she walked. She had spent countless hours in her dreams walking around a forest that neatly fitted the descriptions her parents had given her. Perhaps that was the reason she went there so often when she dreamed, an inherited sense of belonging to the place her mother called home.

  “I think I have seen Aeron in my dreams,” she said to Arnorial. “Whenever I dream without focusing on a particular place, I end up in a quiet forest full of the biggest trees I have ever seen. It always feels quiet and yet full of life. Sometimes the trees seem to block out all the sunlight but there is still some kind of glow from the trees which gives a warm light. Once when I was being pursued by the enemy I even dreamed I was running through the tree tops on walkways like these ones, only, bigger.”

  “That does indeed sound like the Aeron of today. Growing ever sleepier, yet losing none of its beauty. We will come there as soon as we can but that will not be altogether soon, even if we were to set off at the end of today. This place must be unmade and abandoned without leaving any trace of our having been here, and I must give thought to the safe travel of the people. Then, even after we set off, it is quite a long journey to the forest realm on the other side of the mountains and dangerous lands lie in between. Sleep now.”

  They had come to the hammocks. Amy lay down to rest at last, not sleeping but relaxing her body as her mind skipped excitedly around thoughts of what was to come.

  The sun finally exploded over the tops of the mountains to the west. A new day had dawned.