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Like their departure from the home of the Glomers, leaving Narlon brought its own bittersweet emotions. A few of the Caregorons, in the main those who hadn’t journeyed from Meriandor, and many of those too ill to continue the journey, decided to stay in the town. Two of the healers also decided to stay to care for the injured, and although Randufil regretted losing such skilled men, he recognized that someone had to care for the sick. He also saw that as a consequence of the injured remaining in Narlon, there would be fewer to worry over on the journey and that their chances of recovery would be much better there.
With so many of its people lost in the war, the town had an abundance of empty dwellings, and its people, rather than reject the newcomers, welcomed them to swell their numbers. Many of the farms had crops ripe for harvest, and the additional labour would soon earn its keep in the small community.
Once more the caravan set off, but not before giving undertakings of renewed contact with the capital as soon as some form of government could be established. It seemed that the people still regarded the crowned head of Caregoron as being responsible for matters of state, with the populace continuing to look to him for such matters. Whatever hurt Randufil suffered personally, he loved his people too much to ignore their needs, putting aside his own grief to listen to their concerns.
The king had hopes of re-establishing trade with as many of his country’s people as possible, but there would be a great deal to be done before that could happen. He knew that the first priority would be to find shelter and adequate food supplies for those who travelled with him to Meriandor. Rebuilding the city would be the work of decades; and with the shortage of skilled artisans, just putting roofs over their heads would leave them hard pressed.
Leaving Narlon, they continued almost due east; where their next destination, Corindell, lay a little over a day’s journey away. This would be the first major city for them to visit, and for many reasons, there was an air of expectation, tinged with concern, hanging over them as they wondered what they might find there.
Whatever they had been anticipating, their arrival at the city gates and finding them open wide, filled them with dismay. Kawuhl and two of his men rode into Corindell, constantly on the lookout for possible attack, yet none came. At first it looked as though it was deserted, when suddenly two young children shouting at one another in play, ran from a side street and skidded to a halt when they saw the Warriors.
Looking scared, they began to back away, but Kawuhl jumped from his horse and grabbed the nearest by the collar. Trying to keep hold of the boy as he wriggled to free himself, the general asked him if they were alone.
“Of course not,” came the boy’s reply, “mother’s in the house.”
Impatient for news, King Randufil had walked his horse into the street. The moment the boy clapped eyes on him, he dropped his gaze and said, “Yer ‘ighness,” his voice full of awe despite his poor pronunciation.
Momentarily taken aback, and surprised at being recognized by the urchin, the king asked, “You know me?”
The boy began mumbling something in reply, until Kawuhl shook him. “Speak up, you young whelp.”
“Of course I knows who ‘e is, e’s the king ain’t ‘e?” he suddenly shouted.
Whether it was the shout or something else that summoned them, the street suddenly filled with people as they hurried from all quarters to see what the commotion was about. Seeing their king sitting high on his horse, they fell almost as one to their knees.
“Stand up all of you,” commanded Randufil, “you have no need to bow before me this day. Who amongst you speaks for the people, are any of your leaders still alive?”
“I am Sire.”
The king whirled in his saddle to see who had spoken, already recognizing the voice. “Is it truly you, Antor, you are alive?” he shouted, leaping from his horse to embrace his old friend.
“Yes it’s me Your Highness, and it’s so good to see you. We thought that you must have all perished...” halting in mid-sentence as he saw the look of pain pass like a cloud across the king’s face. “Enough of such talk, there’s so much to tell, yet I see you have matters of your own to discuss. Please join me and we can talk alone, unless you wish for others to be present?”
“No my friend, I would welcome the chance to speak with you, you are right, there is much we have to discuss.”
As the king and Antor walked away, Prince Caslan and the sorcerer joined Kawuhl. At first the prince wanted to go with his father, but Ichabod explained that for the time being, his father needed to be alone with his friend. Caslan could join them later.
Unlike Narlon where its inhabitants had been drawn into the battle by Shegrimoth’s powers, here in Corindell the story was very different. The plague that had struck the city had done so as Meriandor had fallen to the Dark One, killing many of its people within a few days. Those that had been alive when Randufil and his army had marched north to Kaldshard had strangely survived, although all were too weak to hold out any hope of recovery.
When Shegrimoth had been banished from Falgorin, the plague had likewise fled Corindell, leaving the pitifully small number of its inhabitants alive and well, with nothing to show for their ordeal. Not even the corpses of the thousands of dead remained as evidence, having vanished as dramatically as the illness itself. The reason for the city gates being left open came down to simple expediency; there were too few people to man them.
Whilst all this was taking place, far away a troubled dragon was flying high above the clouds as Vorcan faced the return to Gholthos with some trepidation. It wasn’t that he was afraid; with Shegrimoth gone he was sure that there was nothing to fear, yet he couldn’t quite rid himself of the memories of his last trip there. It had been a strange journey from Mount Kaldshard, his rider remaining silent for much of the time, until they left the shores of the Northern Lands. Only when they had crossed the Middle Sea and were flying over Skardour did he speak.
“You’ve been very patient Vorcan, and I respect that, but you have a right to an explanation,” the voice was distorted and slurred by his facial disfigurement, “besides I need you help.”
“Whatever you say Master, but you have no need to explain your actions to me,” replied the dragon, “although there is perhaps one question that bothers me.”
“Only one my friend, surely you have more than one?”
“Perhaps, but those others will wait, the one that I would seek answering now, I do so only because I sense that it is part of something that is troubling you, causing you great pain.”
“You are too perceptive for your own good, and yet I cannot deny that you should be told, please ask your question and I will answer it truthfully.”
“Very well Master, why do you speak with your voice when you would normally use your mind?” asked Vorcan.
“As I said you are too perceptive by far, since your question if answered truthfully as I have promised will tell you far more than perhaps it should. However, I cannot use my mind to speak with you since to do so would mean using part of my energies which I must have to control my inner being. You have made no mention since my first rebuff, of my condition, yet it cannot have escaped your notice that I now tread the dark path.”
“Indeed not Master, yet I sense that you haven’t given your alter ego free rein, and the evidence of your action at Kaldshard clearly speaks for itself. How is it possible that you have achieved this?”
“Through great and powerful magic, yet I cannot drop my guard for a moment lest it take control of me completely. There are things I have to do before I leave Falgorin, but soon we journey far from this world.”
“We Master, you mean you and I?” queried the dragon.
“You and I and one other must leave this world, to go in search of the beast Shegrimoth. But before we do I must seek a token on the world of Esborr that will free me from this change that I have brought upon myself.”
For a time the dragon flew on in silence as he considered what he had been told. To leave Falgorin would be an adventure, yet he had hoped to be able to return to his own world, to rejoin the other dragons from whom he had been parted for so many years. Yet he couldn’t escape his duty to the Guardian of the Crystal. Reaching this conclusion, he decided that he would make the best of matters and asked another question.
“You mentioned another coming with us Master, might I enquire who?”
“You will see soon enough, but first we have to return the queen and princess to their family, and I still have to restore Prince Feldric.”
“You can do that? You can make him live again?” asked Vorcan incredulously.
“Yes and no. I cannot bring him back from the dead, yet I believe I can return to a time when he still lived, and bring him back to today, alive and well,” replied Adam.
For a moment Vorcan thought about this then asked, “But what of the Prince’s body, you took it from the battlefield after he was killed, yet it disappeared soon after?”
“And I thought you had only one question.”
“I’m sorry Master, it’s difficult not to seek answers when there is so much to understand,” said the dragon apologetically.
“You need not worry my friend, as I said, you have a right to know. When I took the prince’s body, I only did so to prevent the king from realizing his son had been killed. It’s rather difficult to explain, but if I am to bring Feldric back, I have to be sure that his mortal remains are no longer on Falgorin. It isn’t possible for the prince to be here in two bodies, even if one is dead, so I have hidden it in the past. When he is restored, it will vanish leaving no trace of its existence.”
“I think I understand,” said Vorcan, “although it is rather confusing, but how will you explain the prince’s return?”
“I’ve already done that; you see for a time I used the mindspeak, and so I told Prince Caslan that I would return not only his mother and sister, but that I would bring Feldric back. Unfortunately, I soon found that by speaking with my mind I was losing control, and had to abandon its further use.
“Perhaps if I were to return Feldric now, he might serve us to rescue the others from their island prison, since it would not do for them to see me as I am now.”
“Much as it hurts me to agree with you, it would be less of a shock if they were to be rescued by the prince. Seeing a dragon carrying someone of your appearance would likely frighten them half to death,” observed Vorcan.
“You spare me nothing do you? Yet you are quite right. Then so be it, I shall wait until we are on the island of Laanis, where I shall bring Feldric so that he might find the queen and his sister.”
As if tired from his efforts, Adam again lapsed into silence, content to rest as the dragon flew on. He would need his strength to travel through time to when Feldric had been alive. He also had to face the task of melding his mind with that of the prince, to place there memories to explain how he came to be on Laanis.
As they crossed Gholthos, memories of that fateful night filled Adam with their miseries as he recalled Quilvar’s death and the change he had brought upon himself. The land still looked bleak and barren, yet he knew it would only need time to heal. Not so his elven friend, yet he was determined that even that would be put to rights. Crossing the channel separating Laanis from the mainland, Adam shook himself from his thoughts and, asking Vorcan to land, prepared himself for what he must do.
Having told the dragon to await his return, he grasped his sword firmly and spoke the words of the spell, and in an instant was once more back at Kaldshard with the battle raging about him. It was his intention to save Feldric that had caused his late arrival at the scene when confronting Shegrimoth, and the thoughts of what his delay had cost in terms of lives still troubled him.
His new powers had opened up strange paths through the time-space continuum, giving him short flashes of prescience, one of which had shown him Feldric’s death. His plan had been to arrive at the instant before the blow felled the youth, snatching him away to safety. By returning now he could do this, but he hadn’t appreciated the impossibility of such an action when it first occurred.
Something had prevented him, and by doing so had made him late in arriving at the battle, causing thousands to die. It was for this reason that he had exacted such harsh retribution against Shegrimoth’s followers, fulfilling his dream of so long ago, when he had been shown the bodies on the Ruhlish Plain. Never had he considered that it would be at his own hand that those gruesome statues would be created.
Invisible to all around, Adam searched for the prince, finding him crossing swords with a Mandaxon twice his size. Hurrying to where they stood, he watched with a kind of sick fascination as the Mandaxon raised his sword to deliver the fateful blow. The instant the sword began its descent, Adam parried the blow with his own weapon, striking the Mandaxon dead as he grabbed the prince and whisked him away to the safety of Laanis and the waiting dragon.
When Adam returned, a rather shaken and dishevelled Prince Feldric accompanied him. In the brief instant between seeing the blade of his opponent’s sword beginning its downward swing, and his arrival in Laanis, Feldric felt as though time had suddenly gone into slow motion. He’d seen the sword deflected from its path as if by magic, felt something grip him firmly about the waist, and then the sudden rushing wind as he was transported from the battlefield to wherever it was that he now stood.
Looking about, his eyes wide with fear, he spotted the recognizable shape of the dragon, before he turned and caught his first glimpse of Adam. Seeing Vorcan had momentarily restored some of his shaken nerves, his first thought that if the dragon was there, Adam couldn’t be far away, and that it must have been Adam who had saved him from certain death. Glimpsing the black misshapen creature that crouched just behind him, still clutching the golden sword, sent a chill running through his body.
He tried to make sense of what he saw, his mind racing as he struggled to interpret the pictures his eyes were sending to his brain, but he couldn’t think straight. One minute he had been on the plains below Kaldshard; the next he was transported to the Creator knew where, in the company of a dragon and some demon beast. Thinking that Shegrimoth had captured him, and that the creature before him was a servant of the Dark One; he hefted the sword still in his hand and made to strike Adam.
Recognizing the danger, Adam deflected the blow, and chanting a spell, watched as Feldric crumpled before him. As the prince slumped to the floor, he rushed to catch him, turning awkwardly on his twisted legs as he grabbed the youth. Laying him gently on the ground, he stood back as Vorcan spoke.
“Is he hurt Master?”
“No, he’s sleeping; I had to stop him before he hurt himself. Now I must sort out his mind before he wakes.”
Kneeling with difficulty, Adam lay down his sword, and placing his gnarled hands against the prince’s head, began the melding of minds. When he first touched the prince’s consciousness, he recoiled at the pictures he found there, pictures of himself filled with fear and loathing. Steeling himself he journeyed deeper, seeking the images of the last few days, subtly changing them so that on waking the prince would remember nothing of the journey to Kaldshard, thinking instead how he had travelled with Adam to rescue his mother.
With the memories altered, Adam broke the contact, and slumped back, on the point of exhaustion.
“When he wakes, you must take him to the castle where you will find Queen Jessima and Princess Esperia. I shall wait here for you to take them all back to the king in Meriandor where he should be soon.”
“But Master, I cannot leave you here,” complained Vorcan.
“We have no choice, now please, do as I bid. Feldric will remember nothing of the truth of the last few days; he will think that he and I came here to rescue the queen. You must tell him nothing different. I have explained this all to Caslan, who will tell the king. We must then trust to the king’s judgement not to tell Feldric what really happened. When you return, do so with all speed. Use your magic for we have much yet to do, and far to travel.”
“Very well Master Adam, I will do as you ask.”
“Thank you Vorcan, and thank you for the use of my name; it troubles me that my appearance makes its use difficult, yet I promise you that it is still me, and with luck you will soon see me returned to the way I was before. Now go, the prince stirs, and I must hide before he wakes.”
“Take care Master Adam, I shall return before you know it.”
By the time Feldric regained consciousness Adam had long departed, so that when the young prince awoke, it was to the sight of the dragon.
“Your Highness you are awake, we must be moving on if we are to fetch your mother and sister,” said the dragon, acting the role given him by Adam.
“I’m sorry Vorcan, I must have fallen asleep, where’s Adam?” asked the prince.
“He has returned to Kaldshard to meet with someone; he has asked that I accompany you and return the three of you to your father in Meriandor.”
The prince frowned at the dragon’s words, trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle that somehow didn’t quite match. Meriandor, but the city had been destroyed before...that’s it before he and Adam had set out for Laanis. But if Meriandor had been destroyed, why would his father be there? Hadn’t he gone to Kald...no he wouldn’t have gone to the mountain, then he must be waiting near where the city had stood.
Confused, yet clear in his mind about what he was doing here on the island of Laanis, the prince gave up trying to sort out his muddled thoughts, and without hesitation accepted the dragon’s invitation to climb onto its back. With a mighty leap and flurry of wings, the dragon and Prince Feldric were airborne, rushing to cover the remaining distance between them and the boy’s mother and sister. In no time the castle came into view, and Vorcan was landing before its main entrance. Leaping from the dragon’s back, Feldric ran towards the castle, his heart pounding with excitement at the thought of seeing his mother and sister.
Since they had been freed by Adam, the two Caregoron women had followed his instructions to wait at the castle, but the time had been well spent. No longer emaciated from lack of food, they had eaten well on the food Adam had left them, amazed how each day it replenished itself, never leaving them short. For a time they had considered leaving their open prison, yet each time the words scrawled on the note had held them. Time had hung heavy for the two women, frightened that their captor might return, especially when the sun had gone, yet they were brave, and spent the time regaling one another with stories that they made up. The favourite had been the one Esperia had told of the man who had come to her in her dreams, the same one who had set them free.
It was he they expected to return to take them back home, and he they rushed to greet at the sound of footsteps entering the castle. To their amazement it wasn’t their unseen hero returned to carry them home, but Feldric who came running towards them. Overcome with emotion; the three remained locked in an embrace, their tears flowing freely as they hugged and kissed. The queen finally extricated herself from her son’s arms, and took a step back, her eyes quickly appraising the lad’s appearance.
“Feldric, you look as though you have been in a war,” she exclaimed.
“That’s hardly surprising,” he retorted, suddenly unsure why he had said so.
“You mean you have been fighting?” his mother demanded, suddenly full of concern, “who with, was your father involved? And all this blood,” fingering his smeared tunic, “it is blood isn’t it?”
Feldric looked down at his clothes, aware for the first time that he did look a mess, and that the stains on his tunic certainly did appear to be blood. He had no idea how he came to be in such a state, and his mother’s questions made him uncomfortable as he’d never been able to lie to her.
“I don’t know Mother,” he answered truthfully, “I just don’t know. You see Adam and I left... I’m not sure when we left, but we were coming here to get you. I think there was a fight, but I can’t recall.” His faced screwed up as he tried to remember, but nothing would come. He could barely remember setting out with Adam for Laanis, then he recalled waking up with the dragon and finding that Adam had gone, but nothing else.
His mother could see that her son was troubled and decided not to pursue the matter for the moment; after all Feldric was alive and well. It was at this point she remembered that her youngest son, Caslan, had been left in the Marish Swamp when she and Esperia had been captured. Was he still alive, and where was he?
“Feldric, what of your brother, is he all right?”
There was no problem with this question, “Yes he’s fine, Adam and Quilvar found him in the swamp and brought him back to Meriandor.”
“You keep mentioning this Adam, and now Quilvar, who are these people?” asked the queen.
On safe ground, the prince began to explain, telling his mother about how Adam, the Guardian of the Crystal, and the elf Quilvar had come from Beorhtán to rescue Caslan. He omitted to mention that Adam had been brought from another world to Falgorin, and much of the detail of what had happened since, his memories too jumbled to recall clearly.
When he had finished, his mother was still uncertain about much of what had been happening since her capture, but decided further explanation would wait until she could speak with her husband.
“You said you and Adam had come to rescue us; where is this Adam?” Jessima asked gently.
Again the look of worry touched Feldric’s features, “I’m not sure, he was with me, but Vorcan says he’s gone to Kaldshard.”
Confused by Feldric’s words, the queen again tried to get her son to explain.
“You mentioned someone called Vorcan, is he with you?”
“Yes he’s outside,” replied Feldric, glad to be able to answer his mother’s question.
“Then I should like to meet him, why don’t you ask him to join us?” suggested Jessima.
“He can’t come inside,” said the prince, not explaining who or what Vorcan was.
“Then we shall go out and speak to him,” stated the queen, and without waiting to hear more from her son, headed for the door closely followed by Esperia with Feldric lagging several paces behind.
Barely had the queen got beyond the doorway before the sound of running footsteps rapidly followed her scream as she raced back to where the others stood.
“There’s a d ...d...dragon out th...th...there,” the queen stammered, her eyes wide with fright.
Still in a state of mental confusion, Feldric seemed to lack any understanding as to why his mother should be so alarmed, “But Mother, you said that you wanted to meet Vorcan,” he protested innocently.
“That...that thing’s Vorcan,” his mother managed to say, “why didn’t you tell me he was a dragon?” she demanded.
“You didn’t give me chance,” replied the prince, “come and I’ll introduce you.”
“I don’t want to be introduced to a dragon,” said his mother, “why in the name of the Creator would I want to be introduced to a dragon?” she asked not unreasonably.
“Because it is he who will take us back to Meriandor. Adam has agreed that he can carry us,” explained Feldric.
Although still mightily confused, the queen was however in no doubt about one thing, “That’s very generous of him I’m sure, but I have no intention of riding on that...that...creature’s back,” she stated with finality.
Despite the uncertainty surrounding how he came to be where he was and in the state that he found himself, Prince Feldric was quite clear about the instructions Adam had given him, “But mother you must, we cannot walk to Meriandor, how else would you have us travel? Besides, Vorcan is a very nice dragon; why don’t you come and speak with him?”
The queen seemed set to remain where she was; fortunately, it was Esperia who broke the deadlock.
“Feldric, you mentioned something about this Adam person allowing us to ride on the dragon. Does he own the beast and why is he helping us?”
“It’s a long story, but no, Adam doesn’t own Vorcan. As I said, Adam is the Guardian of the Crystal, the one remaining Manifex and the dragon can serve only him. It was Adam that set you free, and now he has sent me with Vorcan to carry you both home to father.”
“Who is this Adam? I mean is he a Caregoron, where does he come from, and where is he now?” asked Esperia, her wish to meet with this man already becoming something of an obsession.
With so many incomplete memories cluttering his mind, Feldric could only repeat what little he was sure of, “As I have already told you, he’s the Guardian of the true Manifex, he comes from another world. He said he had to meet someone at Kaldshard. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Seeing that their questioning was gaining them little by way of explanation, the queen interrupted, “Enough of this,” she exclaimed, “there are more important matters to discuss. Feldric, you have told us nothing of the Dark One, or the Ghyyrox, yet I assume by your presence that they no longer trouble Caregoron?”
Again the prince looked puzzled, “I don’t think so,” he replied vaguely, “there was a battle, and Meriandor was destroyed, but I can’t remember what happened after that.”
“Meriandor destroyed,” shouted the queen, horrified by the news, “why didn’t you mention this before? What of your father and brother, are they both all right?”
Since the three humans had moved to stand just inside the castle, Vorcan had been listening to what was being said, and decided now might be a good time to intercede as clearly Feldric’s efforts were only making matters worse.
“Feldric,” he called, “why don’t you all come out here and I can explain to your mother what has been happening.”
The initial shock at hearing the dragon speak, caused further dismay with the two women, but Feldric tried to reassure them.
“Perhaps it would be best if Vorcan explained, I can’t remember it all,” he added lamely.
“Very well,” conceded Jessima, “but is it safe, I mean he won’t harm us will he?”
“No Mother, Vorcan wouldn’t harm anyone unless Adam tells him to,” assured Feldric, doing nothing to calm the queen.
With great trepidation, the queen and princess followed Feldric out into the open where the dragon waited. His enormous size dwarfed the three Caregorons, and the sound of his breathing rumbled as his mighty chest rose and fell, sending shivers down the spines of the two women.
“Don’t be afraid,” coaxed Vorcan, “I won’t hurt you; my Master has sent me to take you home.”
The deep gravel tones of his voice did little to reassure, and when a spurt of smoke escaped his nostrils, the queen and princess looked set to flee.
“I have tried to explain what has been happening,” offered the prince, “but I keep forgetting things.”
“Don’t worry, all will be understood when we get back and meet with the king,” growled the dragon. “In the meantime I will do my best to answer your questions Your Majesty.”
The sudden deference in the dragon’s tone helped to ease in some small part the fear in the queen’s mind. “Perhaps it would be best if we leave further explanations until we return to Meriandor, although I am unhappy at the idea of travelling in such unusual fashion.”
“I understand,” said Vorcan, doing his best to convey reassurance, “but it will take but a moment. If you will climb onto my shoulders we can be back with your family in a trice.”
Allowing Feldric to climb up first, Esperia helped from above by her brother quickly followed. The queen however, remained firmly rooted to the spot on which she stood, her fear preventing her from climbing onto the dragon’s back.
“Come on Mother, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” called down Esperia, “it’s quite comfortable, and there’s plenty of room.”
Hesitatingly the queen stepped forward, and lifting her arms up, allowed herself to be helped onto the dragon’s wide shoulders. As soon as the three had settled down, Vorcan gave a great leap, and launched himself into the clear blue sky. The queen, her eyes tightly shut for fear of seeing the ground disappear below them, asked how long their journey would take. As the question was spoken, the dragon used his magic, and they were flying over the remains of Meriandor.
“Look Mother, look down there,” exclaimed the prince excitedly.
Opening one eye just a fraction, the queen looked where Feldric was pointing and saw what remained of the once proud city of Meriandor. Even at the height at which they flew, and despite the ruination, she could recognize her former home. Vorcan began to circle the city, dropping lower so that they could see if anyone moved in the wreckage below, but there was no sign of the king or his people.
Realizing that they must have arrived before Randufil, the dragon headed north searching the road for signs of the returning caravan. They didn’t have to travel far before they saw a cloud of dust on the horizon. It had to be the column heading for the city. Swooping low, Vorcan headed for it, prepared to defend himself if it proved not to be the king.
Down below, Caslan let out a yelp as he spotted the dragon off in the distance. It was still too far away for him to see who rode on its back, yet he was certain that it would be Adam and his mother and sister.
“Father,” he yelled, “father it’s Adam and he’s brought Mother and Esperia.”
In response to his son’s waving and shouting, the king brought the column to a halt, as he too had seen the dragon, his heart racing as he hoped and prayed that his son’s dream was about to become a reality.
Vorcan landed in a field well away from the waiting army, allowing his charges to disembark. The moment they were away from where he stood, he leaped into the air, and disappeared as his magic carried him back to Laanis to where his master waited.
By now, oblivious to the dragon’s departure, the king was running across the field, his arms outstretched as he saw who hurried towards him. He could hardly believe his eyes; not just his wife, but his daughter and son raced to greet him. Never in his wildest dreams had Randufil expected to be reunited with all the members of his family; it was a great day indeed, and his joy almost overwhelmed him
As the group returned to the waiting column, Caslan walked towards them, his eyes bright with tears at the sight of his family once more complete. For long minutes the young prince looked at his mother and sister, then turning to his brother said, “I had begun to think you had lost your way.”
King Randufil looked at Caslan; a puzzled expression on his face, yet something in the young prince’s eyes prevented him from asking the obvious question. Time enough for that later, he thought, but I will have an explanation.
And so the Caregoron Royal Family, at last reunited, returned to their ruined city with the few surviving members of its people, and the Jelvoans who had pledged their allegiance to the crown. The road ahead would be a difficult one, yet they knew that in time the wounds would heal, and Meriandor would rise again to become the centre of the Caregoron kingdom.
Meanwhile, his task complete, Vorcan raced to rejoin his master, their work still to be done. Returning to where he had left Adam on Laanis, the dragon landed to find the deformed creature that his master had become, waiting patiently for him. Barely had his feet touched the ground before Adam ordered him to flight.
“We must hurry my friend, there’s much to do, and my time is slipping away. Fly with all your speed and take me to Ashtirian, home of the elves, where I would speak with their king.”
Puzzled by the request, Vorcan set off, able to use his magic as he had visited the elves’ island on previous occasions, long ago when he and his kind had freely roamed the skies above the Northern Lands. Daring a question, he asked Adam why it was that they travelled to Ashtirian.
“Because my friend, I have to seek their king’s permission before I undertake my final task here on Falgorin.”
“And that task, Master?” inquired Vorcan.
“Ah yes, that task,” responded Adam, “why to return our companion Quilvar, what else?”
Had not his magic been transporting them at that moment, it is quite possible Vorcan might have crashed them both into the ground, so dramatic was his reaction to Adam’s words.
“Can you do that Master,” he asked in unusually timid voice. “I thought that with Master Quilvar being dead for so long...” his voice trailed away, the statement unfinished.
“It can be done, and must be done, because it’s my fault that Quilvar died. But since his people have buried him and grieved over his death, I cannot simply return him without seeking guidance from the elf king.”
“Master if you can travel through time in this way, could you not simply go back to before the war, back to when Shegrimoth began his deeds, and destroy him? It would save everyone from the death and destruction that his reign of terror brought.”
“If only it was that simple,” replied Adam thinking of the devastation of Kóren, Meriandor, the Southern Lands, and the many thousands of deaths that had ensued, “but what’s done cannot be undone. Choices were made, too many sought to follow the dark path and the world of Falgorin has had to pay the price. The matter of Prince Feldric and hopefully Quilvar, are somewhat different in that they both followed the path of light, yet even bringing them back causes disruptions in the fabric of time.” He didn’t mention the great sacrifice that his action in returning Feldric had extracted from himself, and the possible consequences bringing Quilvar back might have, content to let the matter rest.
As he finished speaking, Ashtirian came into view, an emerald jewel in a sea of sapphire. Their arrival caused something of a stir, despite many of the elves having seen dragons before. It was the hideous creature that clung to its back that frightened them the most, as they rushed to form a circle around the grounded beast. One of their number stepped forward, a sword grasped in his hands.
“Who are you and why do you come to Ashtirian?” he demanded.
“I am Vorcan, last of the dragons of this world, and my Master is Adam, Guardian of the Crystal, who seeks audience with your king.”
A gasp rose from the gathered elves, as they looked at the creature the dragon proclaimed to be the Chosen One. Could this deformed brute really be who the dragon insisted he was?
“What proof have you that you are truly the Chosen One?” the spokesman demanded.
“Only this,” said Adam, raising his sword and chanting a spell. For a moment golden light bathed his body, his form no longer the black creature of the dark path, but that of Adam Goodchild, Guardian of the Crystal, the Manifex glowing brightly in the sword’s hilt.
The illusion lasted but a short time before the vision faded, and the elves again faced Adam as he appeared before them, twisted and grotesque.
“That only proves you have great magical powers,” said the elf spokesman, “it doesn’t prove you are who you claim to be.”
“No it doesn’t,” growled Vorcan, “yet who but the Chosen One has dominion over me?” he demanded, there being but one answer.
The elf that had been doing all the talking turned about and rejoined his companions, obviously conferring over what to do next. There was a brief pause whilst they talked amongst themselves, then he came back to face Vorcan and Adam.
“You will wait here,” he said peremptorily, and strode away, leaving the dragon surrounded by his fellows. Had not the situation required the elves’ co-operation, it might have been easier to demand to see their king; since the diminutive green men posed no threat to either the dragon or his master. Yet both remained where they were, not speaking or offering any movement that the elves might construe as a threat. The minutes dragged by, with both the elves and their “captives” becoming restless, when the first elf returned, followed by several others.
Standing some distance from Vorcan, the spokesman again addressed Adam.
“The king will grant you audience,” he said disdainfully, as if the very idea caused him affront, “the dragon must remain here.”
Telling Vorcan to behave himself, Adam hobbled across to where the elves waited. As soon as he was apart from the dragon, the newly arrived contingent surrounded him forming an escort, for the first time giving Adam the chance to see that they were all armed with swords. They led him away from the field where he had landed, along a path that lead into a stand of trees. The track was uneven, causing Adam some difficulty in keeping up with the elves despite his greater height.
Some distance along, the path opened onto a clearing which Adam guessed to be at the centre of the small knoll of trees, and waiting there were two more elves, one of whom had to be the king, judging by his attire. Called to a halt, Adam waited for the elves to determine the next move. For several moments he faced the scrutiny of the two elves, saying nothing whilst they made up their minds. Finally, the one he took to be the king addressed him.
“I am Tillion, king of the elves. If you are who you claim to be, what need have you of the likes of elves?” he asked, in that gentle voice that reminded Adam so much of Quilvar, at the same time bringing back all the hurt that he felt over his friend’s death.
“Your Majesty what you see before you, is not as I would choose to appear, yet I must endure this form until I am able to restore my body. I cannot prove to you that I am the one that is called Chosen, yet on my life I swear to you that it is so. My purpose in coming to see you is to ask for your guidance and your permission for that which I seek to undertake. I could have proceeded without such a consultation yet I felt I should seek your approval for my actions.”
“You speak in riddles, yet I sense the truth in what you say. Ask what it is you wish to know and I will judge whether it is right that I offer my advice.”
“Thank you Sire, it is a simple matter, yet one of great importance to me. It concerns one of your kind, an elf who befriended me, and whom I failed. Because of my stupidity, he was killed by the evil of Shegrimoth. I seek to right that wrong and restore him to live his life as he would have done had I not interfered.”
“You talk of restoring an elf that has died, but surely you cannot do that!” exclaimed the king.
“But I can Your Highness, as the Guardian I have at my command great and powerful magic, magic strong enough to permit such an action, but before I do, I seek your approval.”
“Why do you ask me; if you can perform such miracles surely nothing I can say will prevent you?”
“True, had I made up my mind, you could do little to stop me, yet I have no wish to destroy whatever beliefs you might have about your dead. I would not attempt to restore Quilvar if by doing so I condemned him to a life of misery and rejection by his own kind.”
The king’s face had suddenly drained of colour until his normally pale green skin turned ivory white; he stumbled, turning to one side and almost fell in a faint as his aides rushed to his side. At the same moment, Adam felt the points of several swords jab at his waist as the guards surrounding him moved closer as if prepared to cut him down. Unaware of what had caused such reaction, he could only stand and watch as Tillion recovered.
“I’m sorry,” apologized the elf king, “but your words came as a great shock to me. Do you know who Quilvar was?” he suddenly asked.
“A great and true friend,” replied Adam.
“That and much more,” said Tillion, “Quilvar was my brother.”
The shock at hearing such a revelation had the same effect on Adam his earlier words had on the king. For a moment the world spun, his heart raced, as he felt his grasp on consciousness slipping. Leaning against the nearest of the elves, he fought to control his emotions as he addressed Tillion once more.
“I cannot begin to tell you how it grieves me to speak of Quilvar, especially to you his brother, yet my offer remains. I would still wish to bring him back, yet if you say that I must not, I shall obey your command, and honour his memory as best I may.”
“Since Quilvar is already lost to me, I cannot see that were you to fail it would change anything, yet should you be able to restore my dead brother, then you will have truly repaid any debt you feel you may owe him. You have my permission, and my blessing, and may the Creator guide you in what you do.”
“Thank you Sire, if you will wait here for a while, I shall return shortly. Please,” addressing the guards, “stand away.”
The king signalled to his men to move back, and Adam, raising his sword uttered the magic words. Back he went to the beginning of that fateful night in Gholthos just as Quilvar settled down to sleep. Clutching the elf, he returned to Ashtirian, and set Quilvar down before his brother. He did not intend to alter the elf’s memories, until after he had explained all that had happened; only then if Quilvar desired would he change his recollection of events.
Unlike Prince Feldric, the elf instantly recognized the work of great magic, and although the sight of what Adam had become troubled him, he showed no fear. The fact that he was no longer in Gholthos, but returned to Ashtirian, he took to be the result of Adam wanting him safely away from the dangers there, and his use of magic to send him where he thought he would be safest. Yet it didn’t quite ring true, because when Adam had wanted him to leave, it was to return with Vorcan. There was no reason for him to have gone back on his word and forced him to leave.
Turning away from looking at the creature he had failed to recognize as Adam, he spoke to his brother.
“It’s good to see you Tillion, yet I don’t understand how I come to be here,” he said, taking his brother’s hand.
“It’s a long story Quilvar, and one best explained by your friend Adam,” observed the king.
“Adam, he’s here?” asked Quilvar.
“Yes I am here, my friend,” said Adam as gently as his tortured vocal cords would allow.
Quilvar turned to face Adam, his own face expressionless as he studied the creature before him. “It is you isn’t it, but what have you done?” he asked.
“As your brother says, it’s a long story, and one I must tell before I leave here, since there is a decision that you must make.”
