We are far from home, Fallion realized. Farther than I ever thought I would be.
He had not imagined how it would be. Nothing in his life could ever be the same as it had been. He could not unbind the worlds, re-make the old. He doubted that such a power even existed. He only hoped that the world that he made would be better than the one he had left behind.
The soldiers took turns pulling the cart and kept running through the heat of the day. Even Fallion’s grandfather, a giant of a man, took his own turn at the handcart.
Every so often, Alun was given a chance to sit on the cart and gain a much-needed rest.
So it was that in the middle of the afternoon, they stopped in a huge meadow where they could see for half a mile around. The sun-bleached grass shone like ice in the blazing light of day.
Fallion’s friends had all gone fast to sleep. But Fallion stretched his legs by walking for a bit.
He felt refreshed for the first time in days, as if he had finally gotten his energy back, and he wondered if it was because of some spell that Sisel had cast upon him.
The Wizard Sisel came and stood beside him silently for a moment, a huge and comforting presence, and together they just stared out over the silver fields, admiring a valley down below and the broad river twisting through it.
“It’s beautiful here,” Fallion said after a few moments of silence. “I did not know that it would be so beautiful.”
“Yes,” the wizard said. “This field is strong in life. The grass is good, the trees hardy. Let us hope that it stays that way.”
“Can you keep them alive?” Fallion asked.
Sisel frowned. “Not for long, I fear. Can’t you hear it-the voices of the stones, the cries in the brooks, the lament of the leaves? ‘We are fading,’ they say.
“All of the trees that you see now, these pleasant grasses, came from your world, not ours. They are like a dream to us, a welcome dream from our past, a dream that will soon fade to despair.
“The very stones beneath our feet ache. The earth is in pain.”
The Wizard Binnesman had spoken those words to Fallion’s father, and now they seemed an echo of the past. “What can you do?” Fallion asked.
“There are pockets of resistance, places where the earth’s blood pools just beneath the surface. In these places, life is still abundant. The wyrmlings have little sway there. A week ago, I had little hope at all. But now… there is a wizard at the heart of the world.”
“Averan.”
Sisel frowned, bent his head like fox that was listening for the rustling sounds of mice in the grass.
Averan should be alive, Fallion thought. With the worlds combined, it would have changed the great Seal of the Earth there. She had healed the earth once, mended the seal. She could do it again. Fallion imagined Averan, the wizardess with her staff of black poisonwood, frantically at work.
But Sisel’s worried expression spoke otherwise. “Yes,” Sisel whispered, “my old apprentice Averan. Is she well? I wonder. Is she even alive? Or has our hope been spent in vain?”
Fallion bit his lip. He wanted to go find her, do his part to mend the world. But he wondered if it was even possible now.
Moments later, after a quick meal, they set out on the road.
In the late afternoon Fallion’s wagon halted one last time, beneath the shadow of Mount Luciare. Its peaks were capped with snow even so late in the summer, and Fallion could see the city up on its slopes, enormous slabs of whitened stone along the castle wall providing overwhelming fortifications. There were tunnels carved into the mountain, their openings yawning with wide arches, so that they let in the light. Scrollwork had been cut around the arches and overlaid with gold so that they gleamed in the sunlight. Huge braziers lined the arches, too, and Fallion realized that these were not just for adornment. In case of a night attack, the braziers would cast a bright light, which would reflect from the white walls and gold foil, blinding any wyrmlings.
Even from a great distance, the castle was beautiful and inviting.
King Urstone left the handcart, and for several miles the small group made their way through a wooded fen. The king brought only Fallion, his friends, the young man Alun, and eight strong warriors to act as a guard. Dank trees huddled over brackish water where mosquitoes and midges swarmed.
For Fallion, negotiating the swamp was no great matter. The muddy trail was just dry enough to hold his weight. But those of the warrior clan found themselves slogging through mud that often reached their knees.
So it was late in the afternoon by the time that they reached a small tower in the marsh, a simple thing of sandstone, long ago fallen into ruin. The tower crowned a small hill, and to the east of it was a large dry meadow.
The Wizard Sisel walked around the tower, using his staff to scratch a circle in the turf. Then he scratched runes upon it in six intervals. Fallion had never seen the like of it, and so he asked, “What is this that you are making?”
“A circle of life,” Sisel said, after a little thought. “Here in this world, life is the power that I have studied-life magic, the power that can be found within all living things, within animals, and plants, water and stones.”
“And what power do the Knights Eternal serve?” Fallion asked.
“They serve nothing,” Sisel said. “They seek only to subjugate other powers, to twist them to their own use, and ultimately to destroy the very thing that they twist.” Sisel fell silent for a moment. He pulled the stalk from a shaft of wheat, then began to chew the succulent end of it as he stared down over the valley. A pair of geese rose up from the river, honking, and flew along its shore.
“Life magic is different from the magic of your world. It is more…whole. On your world I served the Earth, and learned the arts of healing and protection. Healing is one of the arts I practice here, too. But there is so much more that one can do…”
Fallion already knew that in his own world, the wizard had gone by the name of Binnesman, and was greatly renowned. “And so now that the worlds have combined, you are a master of both?”
Sisel shook his head. “Not a master. A servant. Those who serve greater powers should never lay claim to the title of master.
“Still, the circle will afford great protection in case the wyrmlings try to break the accord.” Sisel glanced down the small hill. Though Fallion had heard nothing, Sisel said, “Ah, look, they’re here.”
Fallion glanced down the trail, saw the wyrmling princess first. Her pale skin looked like something dead in the bright sunlight, and she kept her arm raised to cover her eyes. She wore a sack draped over her head like a cowl, to give her a little more protection.
Behind her came a small man in a peasant’s brown robe. His beard was graying, and Fallion saw nothing extraordinary about him.
But last of all came a young woman, her dark skin and hair contrasting sharply with a dress of white silk, adorned with a border of gray at the hems. She wore bangles of gold and a single black pearl in her nose ring, and she moved with extraordinary delicacy and grace.
Fallion found his attention riveted on her. His heart pounded and his breathing came ragged, and when the wyrmling blocked his view of her for an instant, he found himself stepping to the side, just to catch a glimpse of her again.
What is it about her? he wondered. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but he found his body responding to her as if she was. Am I falling in love?
But such questions weren’t warranted, he knew. He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t even been introduced. Yet he found himself drawn to her like no other.
This is the way it will feel, he thought, when you first meet the woman you will love. Whether this meeting turns out well or ill, this is how it will feel.
There was a shriek from Rhianna, who had been sitting on a rock at the door to the tower, and suddenly she leapt up. “Uncle Ael!” she cried, and went bounding downhill, where she met the wyrmling’s escort, and threw her arms around him.
Fallion had to search his memory. He had heard the name of course. Ael was the mysterious uncle who had taught Rhianna swordsmanship as a child-in the netherworld. Of him, Rhianna had steadfastly refused to speak.
The Wizard Sisel smiled in greeting and called out in a relieved tone, “Daylan Hammer, well met!”
