the nearly inaudible repetitive rasp of his lungs struggling to draw air.
Queen Mother Telgra took one look at him and went about finding another to heal. She knew there was nothing she could do for him, and the Heart of Arbor confirmed it in her mind.
Queen Willa had her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Mikahl,” she sobbed at the horror of his injuries.
Around her, the guards were struggling between protecting the queens and letting them mourn. No immediate threat had presented itself until a black, wolfish thing came leaping toward them as it fled from a group of elves.
“Protect the queens!” a shout rang out.
A frantic hustle ensued as Queen Willa’s guards tried to form up around them. Yip darted inside the closing ring, and with a series of loud, insistent barks, scared Queen Rosa away from Mikahl’s body. A sword slashed an arcing slice at the wolf, but an elven arrow dinked off of the blade in mid-swing, saving Yip by a hair’s breadth.
“Back!” Dieter yelled. Already he had another arrow nocked. “It means no harm.”
Another of the guards ignored him and jabbed at Yip, but Talon came flapping down gracelessly past his face and screeched out an ear-splitting cry.
Spike braved his fear of great wolves and darted from the bushes through the trampled pink snow, between the soldier’s legs, and to the High King’s body.
A long, tense moment ensued, a standoff between the men and the elves. For a long while it seemed that the animosities of the past would get the better of them and they would attack each other. During that time, Queen Rosa and Queen Willa watched with wide-eyed wonder as Yip kept everyone at bay while Talon unstoppered the wineskin and Spike clumsily used his paws to direct the water Talon had carried all the way from the Leif Repline fountain into King Mikahl’s mouth.
Chapter 60
Once again Hyden Hawk found himself before the goddess. Her misty form stood thigh-deep in a swirling cloud of steam, scowling at him. “What’s wrong with you, Hyden?” she asked.
The question stupefied him. He was too saddened by his failure, and the sight of his fallen friend, Mikahl, to even try to form a reply. It didn’t matter, though. The angry goddess didn’t wait for an answer.
“I tell you that Gerard no longer exists inside the Abbadon, yet you falter at the critical moment!” Her voice was stern, yet loving, like a scolding mother that is as relieved as she is angry at her child. “Don’t you remember dying? The dragon had to bring you back, Hyden Hawk. Don’t you remember?”
“Aye,” he mumbled. “It’s only Hyden now. When I died, the link between Talon and me was broken.”
A heavy sigh of understanding escaped the goddess. It was she who’d made the mistake. All the confidence and direction she had instilled into the hawkling hadn't reached Hyden. Her expression softened.
“You’ll always be Hyden Hawk,” she reassured him. “Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler, the greatest wizard the realm has ever known.”
“Is that how they will remember me?” he asked.
“What?” She looked at him as if he were daft. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because of the balance,” he replied. “Gerard, the Abbadon, Hell Master, Warlord, whatever he was, is gone now. When the scales balance back…” He let the sentence trail off and shrugged as if his point were clear.
“Phenilous is right, Hyden,” the goddess chuckled. “Deep down, you’re still just a hick. Why the greater gods ever chose you…” Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips in exasperation. “You paid your life forward, Hyden Hawk Skyler. To keep the balance, the Warlord had to die. You already had. The Dark One is no longer alive, but there are still an army’s worth of his hellspawn scattering across the lands. Mikahl hasn’t died, but he's been crippled. Phen’s destiny lies with his unborn child. Who else but you is there to keep the balance?”
“Mik is alive?” Hyden asked with wide-eyed hope. Out of all the things she’d said, that was the one that registered.
The goddess threw up her arms in frustration. “You’re impossible,” she said with a huff. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a misty finger before continuing. “When you regain consciousness, you’ll be under water, fool. Try to swim up instead of down.” She turned and stormed away back into the roiling steam cloud from which she’d come.
“You mean I’m not dead?” Hyden called out to her.
“Ughhh,” he heard her grunt as the mist he was in quickly turned into tepid water and closed over him.
Hyden blinked, trying to take in his surroundings. Just as the goddess said, he was underwater. Instead of swimming up toward the surface, though, he glanced down and saw a shimmering glimmer. Curiosity’s grip just wouldn’t let go of him. He wanted to give his body the air that it was craving, but whatever he could see down there was calling out to him and he didn’t think he could resist it. With a shrug at his own foolishness, he did the opposite of what she’d told him. He swam down toward whatever it was.
Somewhere in the misty heavens, the goddess chuckled to herself. Hyden, so much like Gerard, wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of what was down there. She’d told him not to swim down so that the thought of doing it would find his mind. While he struggled to hold his breath, she restored the familiar link between Hyden and Talon. It was hard not to want to reward a man who cared so little about the powers the gods had granted him. Selfless was the word. Hyden had barely scratched the surface of his capabilities. She wondered when he would spread his own wings and fly through the sky with Talon in a physical form. Maybe, she decided, Claret’s young hatchling would draw the ability out of him. She had a feeling that, to repay his debt to the severely wounded red dragon, he would willingly watch over young Alizarin.
A Year and a Half Later
Queen Mother Telgra held her baby girl in her arms and smiled proudly at Phen. As with the elven life span, their pregnancies lasted longer than a human mother’s. The child was half elf, half human, the first of its kind. The child’s eyes, while slitted vertically like all elven orbs, weren’t yellow, nor were they feral-looking. Her eyes were lavender, and enthralling. Phen melted for them. At only a week old, Princess Tamaerra had captured the hearts of all the elves. With the Arbor’s Heart gone from the Evermore, save for the faint residual protective power it left behind for the Queen Mother to use, the elves clung to the hope that the newborn would some day lead them back to the heart of the forest.
Phen, now properly known as the High King’s Ambassador, couldn’t wait for Mikahl and Rosa, and their son, Prince Vaegon, to arrive. Mikahl could hardly walk, even with the aid of a staff, but he could ride as well as he ever had. His knee would never be the same, but he refused to let it hinder his traveling, or his sword drills.
In the elven tradition, the whole Forest of Evermore celebrated the childbirth for a full turn of the moon. This was so that the mother might enjoy the festivities, and also to make sure that there were plenty of elves around during those critical first weeks of life.
Princess Tamaerra was strong and healthy. Both Phen and Telgra couldn’t wait to show her off to the realm. A new tradition was being started with this birthing celebration. No longer would elven society hide itself away from the kingdom folk. They would embrace each other and celebrate life. After all, Tamaerra was as much human as she was elf.
Dieter Willowbrow became known throughout the Forest of Evermore as the elf who saved their whole race from annihilation. The Queen Mother offered Dieter the position of Master of Defense, but after fighting a war and reading the stories that Vaegon had written in his journal, Dieter found that the forest couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore. He declined in order to join the great wizard Hyden Hawk and his band of demon hunters.
Bzorch, the mighty Lord of Locar, fought snappers, dactyls, and packs of Zard for months while struggling to get out of the marshes. The fall he took hadn’t killed him. He found a rise on which to rest while he healed. He lived off of snappers and small geka until he was ready. Then he covered himself with the moss that hung from the swamp trees so he looked like one of the trolls that the typical marsh denizens seemed to avoid. He spent three long months fighting his way through the treacherous shallows and swimming the snapper-filled channels. Finally, in the heart of spring, he pulled himself out of the marshes near Settsted. It was a feat of survival that might never be repeated.
