embrace Lennox had ended her terror. What in life, he wondered, could be more important to her?
If her parents were still alive and making for Vallon they must be sick with worry, he thought. But what if-as was likely-they were dead?
Lennox chewed the problem over for a while. He would take her to Maerie; she was a fine lass with only one child, who would take the girl in and love her into the bargain.
The girl’s eyes opened, she blinked and yawned. Lennox felt her move and glanced down, stroking her hair. Her eyes were brown and he smiled at her.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“You’re not my papa.”
“No, little dove. I’m your uncle Lennox.”
“My papa’s gone. Wolfs et him up,” she said, tears glistening. She blinked. “Et up Jarka too.”
“Wolves?” asked Lennox.
“Big wolfs. Big as you. Et him up.”
“You’ve been dreaming, little one. There’s no wolves, and certainly none as big as me.”
“Lots of wolfs,” she persisted. “They chased me, to eat me up.”
“Uncle Lennox won’t let them. You’re safe now. Go back to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”
“Did you know my papa?”
“No. Was he nice?”
“He played games.”
“He sounds like a good man. Where is your mama?”
“Men with swords took her away. She was all bleeding.”
“Well, it’s over now. You’re with your uncle Lennox, and he’s the strongest man in all the world. Nothing will harm you.”
“Are you stronger than the wolfs?” she asked.
“Aye, lass. And I swear upon my soul no harm will come to you while you’re with me. You believe me?” She smiled, closed her eyes, and put her thumb in her mouth.
In the bushes beyond the firelight, bloodred eyes watched for the flames to die down.
Taliesen took Caswallon deep underground to a small chamber set with walls of shining silver and gold. Soft light filled the room, but Caswallon could not see the source. The druid beckoned him to a tall chair of white leather, then sat upon an oak-topped table.
“This is my inner sanctum,” he told the warrior. “Here I observe the Farlain and I keep my notes-notes no one will read in my lifetime.” He gestured to the shelves, but there were no books there, only small silver cylinders neatly stacked from floor to ceiling. The far wall was covered with sheets of paper, upon which were curious drawings and symbols.
Caswallon studied them. “What do these represent?” he asked. Taliesen joined him. “They are Time Lines, and chart my attempts to aid Sigarni.”
Caswallon ran his eyes over the symbols. “And the stars?”
“Each time Sigarni dies I mark the spot and pursue a new Time Line-a different reality. It is very complex, Caswallon. Do not seek to stretch your mind around it.”
“When must I seek the Queen?”
“As soon as you are ready.”
“I’m ready now.”
“Then observe,” said the druid. Turning, he walked to the wall by the door and opened a hidden panel. The desktop slid back and a screen rose silently from it. Lights blazed from the screen, forming the image of a walled city.
“That is Citadel town, where the Queen currently resides-currently being a relative term,” added the druid with a dry chuckle.
“How is this done?” whispered Caswallon.
“It is merely an image. It is summer and Sigarni has won a great battle. She has returned to the north to celebrate with her captains. The enemy has been pushed back… for now. But the Outland King is gathering a huge force against her. Now, before I send you through, you must understand this, Caswallon: We will meet again on the other side of the Gate. Ask me nothing of the events that are transpiring now. Do not speak of the Aenir invasion.”
“I don’t understand.”
Taliesen sighed. “Trust me, Caswallon. In other… realities. .. our meeting beyond the Gate has already taken place. Many times. And I have found it disadvantageous to view the possible futures. It all becomes too confusing.”
Caswallon stood silently for a moment, then his green gaze fastened on the druid’s dark eyes. “And I have died in these other realities?” he asked.
“Yes,” admitted Taliesen. “Do you still wish to go?”
“Can we win if I do not?”
“No.”
“Then let us go.”
Taliesen pressed a button on the screen and the image of the city disappeared. He stood and led Caswallon back to the Druids’ Hall and the black-arched Gate.
Maeg was waiting there. She stood as he approached, opening her arms, and Caswallon walked into her embrace.
She kissed him, her eyes wet with tears. “The world has changed, as you said it would,” she told him.
“We’ll change it back.”
“I don’t think so,” she said sadly. “Even if you beat the Aenir, nothing will ever be quite the way it was.”
He did not argue. Instead he kissed her. “There is one constant fact, Maeg. I love you. I always have. I always will.”
“I have something for you,” she said, pulling away from him. Turning, she lifted a buckskin shirt from the back of a chair. The skin was soft and beige while on the chest, in crimson-stained leather, was a cunningly crafted hawk with wings spreading to each shoulder. “If you are to meet a queen, it is fitting you look your best,” she said.
Caswallon slipped out of his woolen shirt, donning the buckskin. The fit was perfect.
Leofas stepped from the shadows with Maggrig.
“Are you sure about this plan, Caswallon?” he asked.
“No,” admitted the War Lord. “But Taliesen is, and I can think of no other.”
“Then may the Gods guide you.” The two men shook hands.
Taliesen walked to the archway, lifted his hands, and began to chant. The view of the Farlain vanished, to be replaced instantly by a sloping plain and a distant city.
Maggrig curled his arm around Maeg’s shoulder. “He will come back,” he said.
Caswallon stepped into the archway-and vanished.
Suddenly the view from the Gate disappeared, a blank grey wall replacing it. Maeg moved forward and touched the cold stone.
Caswallon found himself in a forest glade in the last hour before dusk. Shafts of sunlight lanced the branches of mighty oaks and birds sang in every tree.
But there was no city in sight. Perplexed, he stepped back to where the Gate had been.
It was gone…
Cursing, he drew his short sword and started prodding the air, seeking the entrance. After a few minutes he gave up and sat back on a jutting tree root. He was loath to leave the spot, and had no idea what plan to pursue.
His thoughts were broken by the sounds of shouting. Looking around him, he marked the spot in his mind and set off toward the sound. Perhaps the Gate had merely sent him too far, and he had come out on the other side of the city. He seemed to recall seeing a woods there.
The shouts became triumphant, and Caswallon guessed the men to be hunters who had cornered their prey.
