Caswallon opened his arms, tears sparkling in his eyes. The two men hugged each other warmly, then Gaelen pulled back to look at his foster father. Caswallon seemed to have aged ten years since last they met.
“What has happened to you?” whispered Gaelen.
“We will talk later. First let us enjoy the reunion.”
Wives and children ran to husbands and fathers, sons and brothers, and laughter swelled through the trees of Atta forest. “A long time since that sound was heard,” said Caswallon.
Maeg was one of the last across the bridge. Silently she approached her husband, little Donal beside her riding on the back of the great hound, Render.
“Leave us for a while, Gaelen. I will see you later,” said Caswallon. He took Maeg’s hand, kissing her palm. Her eyes were full of tears and she leaned into him.
“What have they done to you?” she asked, holding back the sorrow and stroking his greying hair.
“They? There is no ‘they,’ Maeg. Time has done this. But it was necessary, for otherwise I would never have found you. It took me eleven years to learn all that I needed to fetch you home. But every day of that time I thought of you and I loved you.”
Donal slipped from Render’s back and tugged at the hem of Caswallon’s velvet robe. He was crying. Caswallon lifted him to his chest and hugged him tightly.
“We won, Caswallon,” said Maeg. “But the price was terrible.”
He nodded. “It always is. But we are together now, and we shall rebuild.”
Maeg caught sight of a silver-armored woman staring at them. “Who is that?” she asked Caswallon. He turned and saw Sigarni swing away and walk alone toward the trees.
“That is the Queen, Maeg,” he said, taking her into his arms. “She saved us all.”
“She looked so sad,” said Maeg, then turned back to her husband. “Welcome home, my love,” she whispered, kissing him.
He couldn’t reply. Tears ran from his eyes and she led him away into the trees.
Chapter Eleven
Three days after the battle, Gaelen was summoned by an elderly druid and led to Taliesen’s chambers below the hall of the Gate where Caswallon awaited him. In the harsh light of the chamber Caswallon seemed even older; his hair was thinning and had turned white near the temples.
“Welcome,” he said, gesturing the clansman to be seated. He poured clear white wine into silver goblets, handed one to Gaelen, and then sat down in a wide leather chair.
“What happened to you, Caswallon?”
The older man chuckled. “Do I look so bad?”
“No,” lied Gaelen, “just older.”
“I am older. It is eleven years since I asked you to find Laric and bring his warriors to Axta Glen. Eleven long years… lonely years.”
“The Queen told me you led her to the Chalice Gate and then you stepped through. Within seconds you returned, only you were older and dressed, as now, in robes of velvet.”
“It is not easy for me to explain it to you, Gaelen. When I reached the Chalice Gate I was filled with fear. A dying monk told me the Gate was not closed, yet I could see for myself that it was. The cave was shallow and water dripped from the walls. I walked forward, sick with dread, and reached out. My hand passed through the stone as though through smoke. I walked on, and found myself on a plain overlooking a city of golden turrets and tall towers of polished marble.
“A man was waiting for me. His name was Astole and he greeted me like a brother, for I had saved his life in another place. He took me to his home-a palace with many servants-and there he began to instruct me in the Gates and the words of power to manipulate them. I was filled with terrible impatience, but he promised he could return me to within seconds of my departure. And I had to trust him.
“The years passed slowly. Sometimes I would be filled with joy at my newfound knowledge and dream of exacting a terrible revenge on the Aenir. At other times I felt an awful dread, wondering if I had been tricked. But always I learned. Impossibility made reality. You have seen the stone that attracts iron?”
“Yes. Onic has one.”
“The force that pulls the metal cannot be seen, but its effects can be observed. It is the same with the power behind the Gates. Let me show you something.” Caswallon lifted a small box set with colored stones. He pressed the ruby at the center and the far wall darkened, then became a window overlooking the Farlain.
“As you can see, that is the mountain of Carduil on the borders of Haesten territory. That is now. We can see that image as the light is reflected to our eyes. Had we been here yesterday, we would have seen rain over Carduil. But we were not. Yet the image was still transmitted. Astole discovered that light images linger, leaving traces that can last ten thousand years. Hence, with the turn of a dial, we can see…” The screen shimmered and the mountain appeared once more, cloud-covered and dull, sheeting rain pounding the slopes. Caswallon pressed a stone and the image disappeared.
“Astole made machines that could trace the Lines of Time, allowing man to view his own past. But then the greatest excitement of all. Within the traces Astole discovered particles of matter that did not deteriorate. Unchanging, they existed from day to day, from century to century. They were unaffected by the passing of time. Indeed, they seemed to exist outside time’s laws.
“During his experiments Astole trapped several particles within a field of force-similar to that which works the stone that attracts iron. The field and the particles disappeared without trace. Astole constructed another and suddenly the first field reappeared, but the second vanished. The following day he constructed a third field, and the same thing happened. Excited beyond his experience, Astole made plans for two large fields, preparing his assistants beforehand. He placed himself at the center of the first field and activated it. He vanished instantly. His assistants, following his instructions, activated the second field and he reappeared. The particles had drawn him into a distant past. How, he did not know, but he had stumbled on the greatest discovery of them all, the Gates.”
“I don’t understand any of this, Caswallon,” said Gaelen.
“I’m sorry, my boy. How can I tell you in minutes that which has taken a decade of my life? Anyway, I stayed with Astole, and I absorbed his knowledge. Together we journeyed to fabulous cities and kingdoms lost to the memory of man. We walked the Time Lines, seeing the births of civilizations and the deaths of empires. Finally he judged me ready and we journeyed to a desert, and there I met the man to answer all questions. As he spoke I felt my heart emptied and refilled. All dreams of vengeance died. Violence was washed from me.”
“Who was he?” asked the clansman.
Caswallon smiled and laid his hand on Gaelen’s shoulder. “If you thought the Gates were hard to comprehend, then do not ask about the man. He sent me home and I appeared in the Chalice Gate, even as you see me now. With my new words of power I activated the machines and scanned Axta Glen. You were not there. I searched the Farlain, coming at last to Icairn’s Folly. Then I opened the Gate and the Queen led her lancers through.”
“But you did not ride with them,” said Gaelen.
“No. I am the Hawk Eternal, Gaelen, and I’ll never wield a sword against any man again.”
“You have changed, Father.”
“All life is change. But I am the same man who carried you from Ateris, the same man who loves his people. Only now I love them more. It is strange. I could have destroyed the Aenir single-handed; but with the gift of that power, I lost the desire to use it thus.”
“How did Maeg take all this?” asked Gaelen.
“Hard. But love conquers all. And I love her-more than life.”
“Will you remain as Hunt Lord?”
“Do I look like a Farlain Hunt Lord?” he asked, smiling.
“No.”
“And I shall not be the Hunt Lord. I will remain here, at Vallon, and tend the Gates. There are many tasks
