Wandering Lark (64 page)

Unforgivable. She hated them. She wanted to destroy them, and the hatred burned under her breastbone so powerfully, it made her ill.

“Hatred is not the answer,”
the ethereal voice whispered.

Talena opened her eyes. The White One was back, seated on the floor in front of her. She blinked to make certain she was seeing that tall, wispy shape.

“Then what is the answer?” Talena asked. “How much longer must I endure this prison? And don’t tell me the answer is within me, because I have tried and tried to make these walls go away, and they won’t...”

The White One smiled, and there was something almost reptilian in her opalescent eyes. “It is not the walls that you wish to make go away,” she said. “It is the door that you wish to open, remember. That door will open when you remember how to make it open.”

Talena snarled an oath. “You’re driving me insane!” she said and sprang to her feet. “Can’t you just tell me?”

The White One shook her head. “The Balance depends on you learning what you are yourself,” she said. “Just as it will soon depend on the decisions of others.”

“What others?” Talena asked.

“Those with whom you came. Those you left behind. Many have the power to control the Balance of All Things. Just as there are those who would sunder the Balance and rid the world of all our kind...”

“Like the Temples of the Triad,” Talena said and took a deep breath.

“Like the Temples of the Triad,” the White One said with a sigh that was filled with the wind.

“I tell you what, then,” Talena said. “Let me go, and I will go back and destroy the Temples for you. I will do it in your name...”

The White One shook her head. “I have no desire to destroy them, misguided as they are, for they too are part of the Balance of all things. I only want my followers to be allowed to move freely through the Land that Has Forgotten and help it to remember. Death and destruction only lead to more death and destruction, and there is so much of that when the Circle of Time turns. There is a great war coming to a far land, and the Balance will be threatened before its time. I do not wish for this to happen, but I am bound by the choices that those who live in my world make. If the children of the world choose to let the darkness free, then the Dark Mother will return, and her children will spread her shadow across all the known and unknown lands alike.”

“But if you are what you say,” Talena said, “then you have defeated her before.”

The White One smiled. “And my victory was the result of keeping The Balance intact, and I could not have achieved that victory had there not been those among my children who were willing to sacrifice their lives to maintain the Balance. But the Dark Mother is always seeking to throw it asunder, for that is the only way she can take power.”

“But I would fight. I would fight for you, if you would just let me free,” Talena said.

The White One smiled. “You are young, and the age of battle is not yet at hand. If you are able to remember what you are, then perhaps you will live to see the glory you so desire.”

“And if I don’t remember?” Talena said. She felt cold now.

“Then you will be as those who forsook their heritage on a false whim. You will live but a mortal span, never knowing what part you might have played in the Balance of All Things.”

“And I will be a prisoner here forever?”

The White One shook her head. “If you have not remembered by the time I return, then you will be sent back to your people. And you will remember not, for I will have to take from you all memory of what you have seen. That I will do for the sake of the Balance. But the choice is still yours.”

The White One rose to her full height and glanced towards the windows. “I must go. Think on what I have said.”

“No, wait...how do I remember?” Talena asked, feeling desperation creeping in. To be abandoned, to have her memories taken from her. That was not what she wanted at all. “How can I know what I am?”

Smiling, the White One leaned down and kissed Talena on the forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but it brought tears to Talena’s eyes. When she was small, her mother often kissed her that way.

“Have no fear,” the White One whispered, and her voice was so like that of Talena’s mother. “You will remember, my child. Of that, I am certain...”

The ethereal creature suddenly rose and like a wisp of fog, she floated up through the windows and was gone. Only the touch of her kiss remained on Talena’s forehead.

Talena reached up to touch the spot. Its warmth reached into her mind, welling forth those memories of her childhood so long ignored. Of how she sat on the bank of a stream and watched as her mother held out her hand and whispered. The fish would leap into her hands as she spoke...

She remembered the time when she sat with her mother and whispered to the birds as she had been taught. And how they would come to her...

Talena whispered those words now, and with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine that she heard the thrum of wings. She opened her eyes and looked up when the sound continued.

The high windows of the tower were filled with birds. Talena held her breath in wonder. Then she carefully lifted her hand and whispered again.

A white dove flew down, landing on her hand. It cooed and cocked its head, looking at her with such inquisitive eyes.

And inside herself, Talena felt a faint thrum that she had not felt since she was a child...

Fenelon was having a dream,
and no matter how hard he tried, he could not make it change.

He saw himself back in the tower of Dun Gealach, only this time he was not alone. Etienne, Wendon, Shona...even his father were all there, shackled to the walls, prisoners of Turlough. Then things shifted and they were being dragged out onto the top of the tower. Around him, Fenelon could see that the land had become bathed in shadow. A black dragon was winging overhead, watching as Fenelon and the others were taken to the block. Shona was first to lose her head, then Wendon and Fenelon’s father. And then they took Etienne to the block. Fenelon struggled, trying to break the magical bonds that were keeping him from casting spells to save her, but the actions were in vain. Etienne knelt and they cut off her head in a single blow with a very sharp sword. It rolled over to his feet, staring up at him in an accusing manner.

And then they dragged Fenelon to the block and forced him to his knees. His struggles were useless. They pushed him down, his head on the block, and just before he heard the whistle of the ax, he saw the black dragon smile. “You failed,” the dragon whispered. “You failed to bring the Twice-Blooded Once-Born into being, and now my shadows will rule again.”

“Let go!” he cried and struggled. “It’s not my time.”

But then the ax fell, and he felt himself falling, rolling over and over, his eyes open to the sky.

Fenelon rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Stone was all around him. He gasped and sat up, and his head spun.

“So, you’re awake,” Gareth said and smiled. “Were you dreaming?”

Fenelon took several deep breaths before he whispered, “Yes. Was I shouting?”

“As a matter of fact, you were, though none of it was very coherent. The echo in this place, I imagine. You looked as though you were in the throes of mage fever at one point. What were you dreaming?”

“Nothing important,” Fenelon said. Then thought,
Nothing but your death, and the deaths of all those I cherish.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re all right,” Gareth said, and something in his tone indicated he did not entirely believe what Fenelon was saying. “Hobbler and I were thinking we would have to find a way to rope the packs together and sling you between us to carry you back to the inn.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Fenelon asked as he more carefully raised his head. At least the headache was gone.

Gareth shrugged. “In here, who can say?”

“It’s nightfall in the upper world,” Hobbler said. The Dvergar was playing with his gambling tiles.

“How can you tell?” Fenelon asked.

“When you have lived in the caverns of the world as long as I have, you can tell,” Hobbler said. “Now, I don’t know about you gents, but I’m hungry and if we start moving now, we’ll get back to Warrenvale in time for breakfast.”

Fenelon sighed. “Once we leave Warrenvale, I suspect we should gate back to Blue Oak straight away.”

“Why?”

Fenelon frowned. “Call it a hunch.”

“Something from your dream?” Gareth asked.

Fenelon nodded. “Yeah, in a way. I want to make sure Etienne and the others got there all right.”

Gareth nodded. “So what did you learn down there in the Stone Forest?” he asked as he got up and started to gather his pack for the journey back.

“That there is nothing we can do at this point,” Fenelon said. “According to the Hidden Ones, the Circle of the World has already begun to turn. There will be dark times ahead for Ard-Taebh.”

“All because of Ronan taking Alaric to Garrowye?”

“All because Ronan is not what we thought he was,” Fenelon said.

“That Ronan is a demon?” Gareth asked.

Fenelon looked up, startled. “You knew?” he asked.

“I suspected,” Gareth said. “I just never had the proof.”

“He is not even Ronan, they said. Ronan set the demon free from a Soul Stone and it consumed him and became him, according to the Keeper of Knowledge. They also said that if Ronan had made Alaric walk through the Gate Stone to get to Garrowye then he only had one purpose in mind. Revenge.”

“Wonderful,” Gareth said. “Then we had best get back and start letting the Council of Mageborn know that there might be trouble brewing.”

“Exactly,” Fenelon said. “By the way, have you ever heard of the Twice-Blooded Once-Born in any of your travels?”

Hobbler was collecting his tiles, but the Dvergar stopped and his face brightened. “The Champion of Light.”

“What?” Fenelon threw a sharp look at the Dvergar.

“Oh, you short-lived long-legs,” Hobbler said. “You’re too young to have heard the tales of the last Darkening. When the Shadow Lords ruled, the White One and her followers supposedly bred a being of great power who was twice blooded.”

“Twice blooded?” Fenelon said. “What does that mean?”

Hobbler shrugged. “Afraid that’s a part of the tale I never heard. But the Twice-Blooded Once-Born is the last hope of all races. Without this Champion of Light, the dark powers will win and the hope of all races will die.”

Fenelon wanted to ask more. This was starting to intrigue him.

“All that aside, we cannot help Alaric. He is lost to us,” Gareth said. “So we might as well go back and see what we can do to stop Turlough’s mad plan to execute Etienne and the others—and you.” Gareth pointed to Fenelon. “Remember, he still wants your head as well.”

Fenelon reached up and touched his own throat in dismay. That was not a reminder he needed just now.

It seemed to Alaric that he was
wasting his time trying to get an answer. Everyone he spoke to, from lowly stable hand to household steward, and all the folk in between had the same response. He should not look for the Elder. The Elder would find him when the time was right.

He wished Ronan would stop hiding and help him cipher what they meant, but no matter how much he begged, the bard stayed hidden deep inside him, and Alaric was starting to wonder of what the bard was afraid. There had been times before when Ronan went quiet, but never for this long.

“Perhaps, he fears you will find the truth disturbing,” a familiar voice said.

Alaric had been pacing across one of the many garden paths when he heard those words. He stopped and turned towards the source.

In spite of the shadows, the vision of white dazzled him so that he had to raise his hand over his eyes. Mage eyes adjusted, however, and revealed the shadows caused by an archway of stone. Beneath that on a bench of white marble, sat Master Fion. The Dvergar’s short legs dangled over the edge. He held a staff of white wood in one hand, using it to balance. And he wore that infuriating smile that Alaric was starting to hate in all these people.