Inside the command tent, Father Jacob kept the official record of the day’s events. Runners moving between the ranks and the tent kept him informed. When the ceremony was over, Prince Valam dismissed the men and entered the tent. Upon seeing the prince enter, Father Jacob looked up from his work, said graciously, “The first battle ends in victory, my prince. You’ve done well these past days and this day as well.”
“It is but the first of many,” Valam said, just before gulping down the glass of wine offered to him.
“It is,” Jacob agreed. “You’ve your father’s touch with the men. You are a just leader and have their respect.”
“Do I truly, Father Jacob?”
Father Jacob didn’t say anything for a moment as he finalized the scroll before him. He stood and opened the flap of the tent wide so Valam could look out to the field where the lines were yet maintained. As the two stepped out of the tent, a cheer went up from the ranks. “To the High Prince!” came the cry and the words were repeated over and over across the field.
The commanders in company joined in the cheers for a moment before calling the ranks to attention. Valam watched, a broad smile that was almost a grin fell away as he saw riders racing toward the company at full speed.
One of the riders reined in alongside Prince Valam. “It is as foretold. They come.”
“How many?” Valam asked.
The rider’s dapple gray courser started prancing and the rider fought to get the restless animal under control. “A host of thousands, many thousands. They come from the mountains along both passes.”
“How long before they are upon us?”
“It seems they march for the forests and not the plains. On Rivenwood. The city will surely fall before nightfall.”
Seth rushed out of one of the nearby tents. Brother Liyan and Tsandra of the Brown were close behind him as were several of the outriders who had just arrived from the field. “From Rivenwood to Avenwood,” he said.
“This can’t be,” Valam cried out. “We’ve been so careful in our watch. We took the field. The next fight should be at their door.”
Seth felt something, a presence overhead trying to reach out to him. He was about to cast his will to the wind and soar up into the heavens when he found the link. For the briefest moment, he felt Queen Mother’s every emotion. He knew her anguish, her pain. He was her protector and she was his queen as it once had been.
Cagan knew Seth’s thoughts the instant the red brother emerged from the link. He spoke his fears before Seth could say anything, “King Mark’s battle fleet took Maru. The city burns. The fleet sails up the Gildway to lay siege to Leklorall.”
“That is nearly the truth of it,” Seth confirmed.
“But how?” Valam asked.
“Queen Mother begs of us to break camp. Sail with as many men and elves as we can to the east and Maru, and then up the Gildway to Leklorall. The rest to march on Rivenwood through the gorge to Avenwood and on to Leklorall.”
“Is there any hope in such?” asked Vadan Evgej.
Valam withdrew Truth Bringer from its sheath and raised the sword high into the air. “We’ll be at the heels of King Mark’s army the entire way. We can harry their every step. They will come to fear us. That is the full truth of it.”
They filled what few ships remained with supplies, men, and elves. The ships set sail for the east as they broke camp. The command tent became the last vestige of the enormous camp. Not long after, it too was taken down and carefully packed away.
As they rode away from the camp, an idea came to Valam. He remembered the narrow rocky valley between Avenwood and Rivenwood. He urged his surefooted charger along, racing to catch up with Seth at the front of the lines. Captain Evgej and Captain Mikhal sped along at his side, their mounts as eager as his to find the wind.
“Tsandra, Teren,” he called out as he passed the brother elves on his way to Seth. The two unquestioningly turned their mounts in line behind Valam and followed where the prince led.
When he reached the lead riders, Valam ordered the lines on foot and ahorse to turn due east, calling for the brothers of the Brown to break ranks and join his conference with Seth, Tsandra and Teren. He also called out for Captain Danyel’, Captain Redcliff, and others. Soon there was a company of fifty or more around him.
A wind swirled, tugging at Valam’s cloak as he sat the saddle. He spoke to the Tae brothers first, addressing Redcliff before addressing Danyel’. “I once asked you to defend the House of Alder against our enemies, to die in service if need be. You have proven yourself many times over beyond the training field, and you have no more debt to me than to the wind. Do we understand each other?”
The mountain of a man who once had been one of his father’s best training masters straightened in the saddle but said nothing.
“Danyel’, you have proven yourself on the field as well. It saddens me that I must ask of you.”
Danyel’, like his brother, sat stoically in the saddle. He too was a tower of a man with a height and girth eclipsing that of most.
“I know you both to be mountain men, and I trust to you a task that I would trust to no others. Danyel’, you once spoke of a sudden slide of rock that closed the entrance to your valley home. You told me of how your people dug through the rock the whole of spring to free themselves by summer.
“I would ask you to use your skill with great axe and hammer to create slides of rock in the gorge connecting Avenwood and Rivenwood. Tsandra, Teren, and much of the Brown will go with you to guide you on your way. Let them help you. Do this thing in such a way that it is for all time.”
“It will be as you ask, my prince,” Redcliff replied. Without a further word, he, his brother, and the others rode off to the north, to Rivenwood.
Tsandra was the last to turn into the file. “My oath to you: as I live and breathe so shall they.”
“Be well,” Valam told her, and then he watched her ride away.
Ærühn stood over the fallen, dismay and perhaps confusion reflected in his eyes as he looked upon them. His long hair hung down, covering his face in a blanket of braids and beads. He had taken their weapons, a flask of ale, several bags of water, what armor he could salvage. It was the spell woven upon them that he could sense but not see that troubled him. He could feel the same spell in the air all around him now that he searched for it.
Geoffrey grabbed the dragon man’s arm. This was the fourth in a long series of rooms that they had come to. All the rooms had been occupied and they had had to fight their way through each. “We must move on,” he told the dragon man.
Ærühn looked up at him as if through a haze. Strange as it seemed to him, he could see Geoffrey but not see him—if such a thing were possible. “Yes, of course,” he answered reflexively, only now realizing that he spoke in dragon speech and the other spoke in the language of men and yet they both understood each other.
Geoffrey hurried to catch up with Captain Brodst and the others. Captain Brodst stood next to Midori, Calyin next to Lord Serant. Ayrian waited impatiently near the door, acting as look out. Keeper Martin spoke quietly. “Nothing is what you think it is,” he was telling the others as Ærühn and Geoffrey joined the group. “Isn’t that so?” he asked the dragon man.
Ærühn nodded but didn’t understand.
“We were all brought to this place for a reason. There is an ancient power here. It drew us in as surely as the scent of a flower draws a bee. What we must try to understand is why?”
“No,” interrupted Lord Serant. “What we must know is where we are. Somewhere in the Rift Range I suspect, perhaps the Endless Ice.”
“I was getting to that,” Martin said. “But first you must understand the why of it. I think I have the answer.” He looked to the dragon man. “Has the truth of it come to you yet?”
“This place makes us see what we want to see,” Ærühn said. He pulled a blade from his belt, turned to Geoffrey. “This is the blade you were given. It was expected that you should kill me with it. I will ask you again, why didn’t you?”
Geoffrey took the blade so as not to have to talk about it again. “With you I have no quarrel.”
“Yet you left the blade for me to take. How did you know I wouldn’t turn it against you?”
“If you were going to kill me, you could have done this while I was unconscious. Instead you put a blanket over me to keep away the chill. You gave me food and drink when you could have kept it for yourself. If I was truly your enemy, why would you have done such a thing?”
Ærühn snatched the blade from Geoffrey’s hand and threw it across the room. “Do you know so little of my kind? I am a Dragon Man of the Stone Shields. There is no honor in killing the sick or the weak. My punishment was to nurse my enemy back to health so that I might see through his eyes before I battled him to victory or defeat. My punishment was to bring me low—to see as you because I did not see. Don’t you understand this?”
Ayrian stepped between Geoffrey and Ærühn. “He does not know your law. How could he?”
“The Law is,” said Ærühn. “It is known to all.”
Keeper Martin touched a hand to Ærühn’s shoulder. “It is what I was trying to explain. We do not see as you see. This place has a hold over us, as it has over you. It makes us see differently and only when we question do we start to see true. I suspect we are in a wayside of old. A place where all things seem familiar but unfamiliar.”
“A wayside?” asked Captain Brodst.
“I’ve only heard tell of it in the most ancient of the texts. But I believe this is a place between the realm gates.”
Calyin swept back her long black hair, looked at the keeper quizzically. “Keeper, the day is long. We must be moving along.”
“We are caught in a wayside,” Martin explained. “We are caught in the place between.”
“The between? With the souls of the dead?” scoffed Geoffrey. “Surely you jest, Keeper. The between is for those passing beyond this life. It is where the Choice is made and the Wish.”
“True, yes, but it is also used by realm travelers. Before any of you interrupt me, I would like Ærühn to tell you of the dark land of the hunt. I would like Ayrian to tell you of the Kingdoms of the Skies. I would like to tell you of Uver and a time when his gates connected all the lands. So Ærühn, will you tell us how your people move from the frozen land to the dark land of fire?”
“The Great Door. It is known.”
“I’m afraid that it is not known. We know little of the Land of the Dark Fire or the Frozen Land of Ice and Snow.” Martin swept his hand around the circle. “They know nothing. I know only what I’ve been able to piece together. The one thing I do not know is if it has begun. Has it, Ærühn? Is that why you are here? Are you the Hand on the Wall, Ærühn?”
Ærühn glared at Keeper Martin. His large round eyes suddenly wider than seemed possible. “He will know. He will be angry.”
“Tell me of Prince Sy’dan Entreatte. Tell me of the High Lord. Tell me of the lost kingdom. What do the dark elves plan?”
“What would you have me say?”
“Will my telling do as well?” asked Belajl Entreatte, High Lord of Shost, as he and his people entered the room from hidden recesses.
“It would,” Martin said, his expression betraying no hint of surprise, though he hurriedly hastened everyone to the doorway Ayrian was supposed to have been watching.
“It will not work for you,” Belajl said.
“But of course it will.” Martin unrolled the small piece of parchment he held in his hand. As he faced the high lord and his men, he spread his arms wide to keep the others back.
“You underestimate my resolve. You were brought here to change the path and so it has come to pass.”
“Ah, but you forget that in the time before time, the lands were ruled by titans, dragons, and the great eagles. The Master Keeper knew, and so I know. I did not have to seek out the Hand on the Wall, the Hand sought me out. Is that not so, Ærühn?”
Ærühn nodded solemnly.
Keeper Martin spun around and pushed the others through the door. He ran down the long hall behind them, speaking the words of power from the parchment. The gate formed in front of them. Martin was the last to step through to the other side. As he did so, he could hear Belajl Entreatte scream, “May the two sisters carry you away! May you know the eternal sadness of Adrynne!”
In that moment, as he was swept from the world, Keeper Martin couldn’t help thinking that he did know, and that there was one who knew the sadness and the longing better than any other.
Thought and movement returned to Adrina. “Tnavres, come forth,” she commanded. The tiny dragon exited her flesh snout first, dropping to the ground beside her. It extended its wings, looking up at her.
Adrina took in the sight around her: the dark creatures everywhere as far as the eye could see. Noman’s steady hand on her shoulder. Amir and Xith battling the creatures with blade and magic.
“You are the key, Adrina,” Noman told her. “You have the power to end this.”
“What power? I have no power.”
“Do not play with me, girl,” Noman commanded. “Time is short. Do what you must.”
“The mark,” Xith called out from behind her as he unleashed a wave of flame into the ranks of the wraith. “You have the mark, Adrina. You are the servant. Did he not tell you the price?”
Across the field, the shadow warrior king looked on with sudden interest. The appearance of the girl was as foretold. The master would come now.
Adrina turned around to Xith, her mouth agape, tears in her eyes. She felt overwhelmed. It was all too much for her. As she turned, she extended her arms. Tnavres took this as a sign to sink his teeth into the flesh of her hand. His touch brought the mortification of her flesh.
“What is it you seek?” said a deep, powerful voice and as it boomed across the field, everything and everyone stopped as if frozen in time.
Noman knew at once the words were addressed to him and not to any of the others. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish,” said the other. The air over the field filled with a great clutter of tiny flying creatures. The creatures became one and that one creature was the Dragon King.
“You must restore order. That which has been released must be returned.”
“I am but the keeper. This is but the game of the ages.”
“Untrue, untrue, you are what you choose to be. The game is as you choose it to be.”
The Dragon King roared his disapproval of Noman’s words. “One truth. Choose well.”
“No more games, Bæhmangarin.”
The Dragon King called forth his queens as he spread out his enormous wings and together they blew fire down from the sky. The flames flew to the corners of the field, cleansing the earth in all directions. The flames enveloped the shadow warrior king and all his minions turning them to ash. The beat of the mighty wings blew the dark ash from the field; the flames continued to lick the earth.
“No more games,” Noman repeated.
The Dragon King cast his head down, his flames bathing the earth. Try as he might, his flames did not reach Noman or the others. “This is my domain!” he called out. “Be gone!” He called to his queens and they joined him in raining fire down upon the outsiders.
“Bæhmangarin,” Noman said. “Surely you’ve not forgotten the pledge. The faithful, those that serve are protected. Is it not so?”
“My princess,” the Dragon King called out. “Step away from the others.”
“No,” Adrina said defiantly, “I will not.”
“Do this or the prince dies.”
Her eyes wide, Adrina looked to Noman and then to Xith. “You lie!”
“Show her!” the Dragon King commanded of the tiny dragon at Adrina’s feet. Suddenly Adrina saw her brother. Valam was dressed in battle armor with his great sword strapped on his back. He stood on the balcony of a great tower, in a city that was foreign to her. Father Jacob was to his left. The queen of the elves was to his right. Lines of soldiers stood at the base of the tower. She heard shouts and cheers. “To the High Prince!” went the call. In the distance, beyond the walls of the city, she saw a large fleet of ships. Across the dark waters behind the ships, she saw the great black wave of an army tens of thousands strong sweeping in from the plains.
“Forgive me,” Adrina said, her voice trembling as she stepped away from the others. The Dragon King roared his approval. In his upturned claw, he held a great sphere and he cast the sphere into the fading image of the prince and his men; then he and his queens set upon Xith, Noman, and Amir.
It was as before; the dragons could not reach the three with their flames so the dragons set upon them with fang and claw. Amir blocked the powerful jaws and terrible clawed hands of the Dragon King with his twin blades. Xith and Noman defended against the queen dragons as best as they could. Although their magic had little affect on dragon kind, it still stung as they unleashed it.
“It is time for truths,” Noman told Amir.
“It is,” the titan replied.
Noman turned to Xith. He looked directly at the shaman as he transformed into his true self.
“It cannot be,” Xith muttered to himself as he watched Noman change form before his eyes. The figure before him was familiar but older, much older than he remembered.
“Aven, is that you?”
“It is I, old friend.”
It was unlike Xith, the great shaman, the watcher of old, to be at a loss for words but he was, at least momentarily.
Bæhmangarin and his queens showed their great disapproval by blasting the group with fire. Aven stood defiantly within the flames, his outstretched hands keeping the flames away from the others. “My father, Dnyarr, Elf King of Greye, would disapprove.”
“You betrayed him,” roared the Dragon King. “You betrayed us all. You are the great betrayer.”
Aven shook his head. “He betrayed his people. No single being was meant to rule over all the lands. There must always be balance. Surely you understand this. The balance must be restored.”
Bæhmangarin and his queens bowed their heads. The Dragon King looked to Adrina. “You are the key, princess. The Fourth will listen and return. The balance will be restored.”