The heavy gold medallion slipped from his hands. It seemed as though his life was held frozen while the rest of the world raced to catch up to the point where he was suspended in time.
A great toll sounded, reverberating in his mind. The paralysis lifted. The haze in his mind fell away. He gulped, taken aback as he was left staring into the eyes of another. He bit his hand to make sure he was truly awake. He yelped in pain. Real pain, not imagined. He was awake, alive, beyond the unseen hands that tried to control him.
“Xith?” Vilmos asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Vilmos!” exclaimed Xith happily.
“Xith, is it really you?” Vilmos prodded the shaman with an outstretched hand. “Are you truly flesh and bone?”
Xith paused a moment. He hugged Vilmos. “What is this thing that I have done?” he muttered to himself. “Such a heavy burden for one so small and new to the world.”
“Where am I and what of—”
“Don’t worry about that now. Rest, save your strength.”
“There was darkness. I heard voices and… and…”
“The darkness has nearly run its course. You will be free soon and this business will be behind us for a time. Be thankful.”
“I can’t take any more, make it end. Please, make it end. I’m losing myself.”
“Yes, soon. Soon it will all be over.”
“How long have you been here with me?”
A prolonged pause followed. “Why do you ask?”
“How long?”
“A long time, a very long time. Days.”
“Who is tha-at?” began Vilmos, finishing his own sentence before the other could reply. “You are Ayrian, Eagle Lord of the Gray Clan.”
“Yes, I am,” replied Ayrian, emerging from the shadows. He carried a large bundle of firewood. As he piled the wood next to the low fire, the once proud eagle lord stared into Vilmos’ eyes. He stroked his beak with a clawed hand, then spread his arms in a wide arc which revealed the shadowed bulk of his great wings as though they were the folds of a great gray cloak.
Ayrian spoke then in the pitched calls of his people, “He knew who I was. He didn’t have to even think about it. I didn’t see a stirring of the old memories as we had expected.”
Xith replied in the same language, “Yes, I saw. They took him farther than we had anticipated. What’s done is done. We must undo it that is all. What they have altered we must continue, yet I think in time the remembrance will diminish.”
Vilmos stared at the shaman and the eagle lord, hearing only the strange calls and not the words, but understanding what was said just the same.
“Save your strength, Vilmos. Eat this, then sleep,” Xith said.
“No, please,” begged Vilmos. “I don’t want to sleep. No more sleep. Anything but that!”
Vilmos sat up, his eyes wide. Yet as Xith spooned hot broth into his mouth and it slipped down his throat to settle in his empty stomach the growing warmth began to lull him to sleep. Sagging eyes that sought to look out upon the world didn’t resist long.
Vilmos blinked, blinked again. The great doorway of the tower beckoned. He strained to move the huge door as it ground upon its hinges. He entered the tower without hesitation. A stair twisted and wound its way to the top of the tower. Odd though it was, he saw a single stair but knew that the serpentine tower had two spires.
The same beckoning call that led him to the tower door led him to the stairs. He could not resist the pull of the lure and did not try. As he started up and rounded the twisted staircase, he saw a girl with long black hair. She wore a flowing white robe that seemed out of place. He watched her climb as he climbed. He saw the stairs bend and shift around her, leading her in a constant circle. To her he knew it must seem that she climbed and was making progress toward the door at the top of the stairs. It was the same for him. He seemed to be making progress but neither was getting any closer to the top of the stairs.
He called out to her. She turned. He immediately recognized the green jewels of the eyes, the high noble cheek bones and the gentle curves of her chin. “Princess Adrina?” he shouted.
Adrina stopped climbing. She turned to look at the boy who called her name. Recognition didn’t come immediately, but the short black hair and brown eyes were not completely unfamiliar to her. “Vilmos?” she called back.
“What are you doing in my dream?”
“Dream?” Adrina asked, “This is no dream to me, more like a waking nightmare.”