Shona jerked the silk over her head and flung on her trousers and blouse. Her fingers made a mess of the buttons. She cried in her frustration and flung open her door. Meda raced down the corridor, looking even more disheveled. Shona reached Hyam’s door first. She entered and cried a second time at the sight of him sprawled across the floor, one fist clenching an oddly painted ceramic bauble.
She knelt and cradled his head and called his name. “Hyam!”
He moaned.
There was a bitter paradox to her position. Holding his head, stroking his face, while alarm grew all about them. She called his name again, wishing with all her heart they knew a private intimacy instead of fear and woe.
But the bond was strong just the same. Shona knew this because the next step came to her in a whispered flash. She said to Meda, “The eye!”
“What?”
“The bauble he holds! It consumes him!”
Meda used all her strength to pry back his fingers. She stood and demanded, “What now?”
“Destroy it!” Shona had no idea why she was so certain. Only that she was. She wrapped her arms around Hyam’s head and called, “Stay with us!”
Meda searched frantically, but the room’s only fire was a bedside candle. She held the eye over the tiny flame.
Hyam shrieked in agony.
Meda yelled, “Fareed!”
The young mage rushed in, gripped the eye with both hands, clenched his eyes shut, and spoke.
The eye burst into flames and exploded.
Hyam yelped, gasped, choked, and cried again, more softly this time.
But their attention was no longer solely upon Hyam. For there beside Fareed, another being appeared.
The figure revealed an Elven king, or so it seemed to Shona. A man with a diadem upon his forehead, similar to the one Darwain had given Hyam. He was rimmed by fires that did not burn. The flames held a greenish tint, as though bound to forest shades. The ruler’s eyes were brilliant and alight as they studied the room. He gazed upon them with the satisfaction of centuries, smiling with sorrow and joy both. He raised a hand, a silent benediction. Then he lifted both his arms above his head. The ceiling opened, a swirling vortex of light and welcome. The flames encasing the king grew brighter still, consuming him and drawing him up.
The room grew dim, the image gone, and all that was left were tiny ceramic shards covering the floor.
Hyam opened his eyes, looked up at Shona, and whispered, “You were strong for me.”