Ричард Кнаак - The Veiled Prophet

“Just like so much.”

The cowled figure grunted. “There was nothing that could be done at the time…but the future will be different. We shall see to that.”

But the past could not be forgotten. Mendeln—no, Kalan—was determined to see to that. Already he had plans to mark down on both parchment and stone all that he could recall, if only for the sake of those who followed in his path. The world could not forget the lesson of Uldyssian and the hope that his sacrifice had gained for all.

“Let’s be off,” he suddenly demanded of the dragon. “The sooner I start, the better.”

From Rathma, he earned a rare grin. From Trag’Oul, there was a sense of hope.

Prepare yourself, the dragon warned.

Kalan tightened his grip on the dagger more, but his mind was not on the spell with which Trag’Oul would magically cast him hundreds of miles distant. It was instead on Uldyssian.

You have given us a chance for a future, brother…and come the High Heavens or the Burning Hells, we shall work to make certain that we are its makers and no others.

And as he thought that, as the woods around him faded, Kalan believed he glimpsed a figure built much like a farmer but who was obviously so much more. The figure was not even there for the blink of an eye and was likely only Kalan’s imagination, but even so, it raised the brother’s hopes.

The edyrem would rise again—and with the sacrifice of Uldyssian to guide them, next time as their own masters.