Richard Baker: Final Gate

“How do we get the device away from her?” Jorin asked.

“We may not have to. Quastarte-one of my friends on Evermeet-reminded me that the crystal does not remain intact after use. It breaks into its component shards, three of them, and hurls its pieces across the world, sometimes even across the planes. I mean to find it, assemble it again, and use it to seal the Waymeet-the Last Mythal of Aryvandaar.”

“These three pieces could be anywhere?” Donnor asked. “Where do we begin?”

“The place where Sarya Dlardrageth last employed the crystal. The Gatekeeper’s Crystal often leaves at least one of its shards near the place where it was last used. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

“Back to the High Forest again.” Maresa shook her head. “You don’t let the moss grow under your feet, do you, Araevin?”

“We’ll retrace our steps through the portals back to Myth Glaurach. I don’t think that Nar Kerymhoarth is more than two days’ ride from there.” Araevin glanced at each of his companions, and added, “It may be a long, dull, or dangerous task to reassemble the Gatekeeper’s Crystal. None of you should feel obligated to come with me.”

“Is this the best way you can think of to slip a knife between Sarya’s ribs?” Maresa asked. Araevin nodded.

“Then I’m in.”

“And I,” said Donnor.

“Sildeyuir is in your debt, Araevin Teshurr,” Nesterin answered. “I will help you.”

Araevin looked to Jorin. The Aglarondan shrugged. “I haven’t traveled these lands before. I have a notion that I’d like to see more of the west, or wherever your search leads you.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Araevin said. “We’ll set out first thing in the morning.”

He raised his goblet to his companions and drank deeply; the others followed suit. Briefly, he explained as much as he felt comfortable telling them about the Waymeet and the crystal. He glanced at the door often, expecting Ilsevele to appear at any moment, but still she did not come. Finally, it grew late, and the companions said their goodnights to one another.

The innkeeper showed Araevin to his room, and Araevin spent some time double-checking his belongings, making sure that he was ready for another long journey. Then he stretched out on the bed to rest, slipping in and out of Reverie. He did not need as much as he used to-an odd side-effect of the telmiirkara neshyrr, one that he just as soon would have done without, since it left him wakeful and alert most of the night. Eventually he found himself simply sitting at the window seat in the little room, gazing out over the sleeping town while he grappled with wheels, fonts, and bonds of magic in his mind, reflecting on the artifices of high magic he had encountered in the last few tendays.

Shortly after midnight, his reflections were disturbed by the lonely clip-clop of a horse’s hooves in the street outside his window. He shook himself and looked down. A rider in green approached, riding a small dapple-gray mare. The rider stopped before the Oak and Spear, and drew back her hood. Ilsevele shook out her copper-red hair and turned her face up to him.

“Keeping watch for me?” she asked with a small smile.

“Simply taking in the night,” he told her. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

He slipped down from the window seat, pulled on his boots, and headed down the stairs to the dark and empty common room. Ilsevele came in a moment later, still dressed in her riding cloak.

“Do you want me to rouse the innkeeper?” Araevin asked. “It’s late, but they might have something you could eat.”

“Don’t trouble the fellow. I am not hungry.” She hesitated in the doorway, studying the room. “Are the others here?”

“Yes. We were only waiting for you.” Araevin took her in his arms, and held her close, but she returned his embrace half-heartedly. When he frowned at her, she disentangled herself from his arms and stepped back. “What is it, Ilsevele?”

“Araevin,” she said, “I cannot go with you.”

“What? But why?”

“I have something else I need to do. I am leaving in the morning for the Sembian camp in Battledale. I am going to try to persuade them to make peace with us, so that we can turn our full attention against the daemonfey.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said automatically. “You would be too valuable as a hostage. The Sembians will try to use you against your father.”

“I do not think they will.” Ilsevele raised her hand to forestall his response. “If the daemonfey and the Sembians were still allied, you would certainly be right. But Sarya turned her demons and devils against the Sembians, too. We have a common foe, and I understand that counts for much in human diplomacy.”

“Ilsevele, you don’t understand-”

“Starbrow will come along to safeguard me, Araevin. And I’ll have a trick or two up my sleeve, just in case. But we have to take the chance that the Sembians can be reasoned with, before all the Dales are laid to waste.”

He started to protest but gave up with a grimace. “Very well. But promise me you will be careful, Ilsevele.”

“Only if you do the same.” She smiled thinly. “Do not worry for me, Araevin. Our paths will cross again before long.”

“I am not as certain of that as I once was.” He sighed and brushed a hand over his eyes. “We are heading back to the High Forest.”

“The High Forest? Why?”

“Because the Gatekeeper’s Crystal-or a piece of it, anyway-may remain somewhere near Nar Kerymhoarth. I think I will need it to deal with Sarya’s wards at Myth Drannor, and her influence over the Waymeet.” He quickly explained what he had learned about the Waymeet and the disaster he feared. “Will you stay to see us off?” he finished. “Morning is not long now.”

“I can’t. We are riding for Battledale at first light. I need to get back.”

“Maresa will take it hard. She likes you more than she lets on.”

“I am fond of her, too. Take good care of them, Araevin.” Ilsevele allowed him to embrace her one more time, and she turned to go. But in the doorway, her steps slowed, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. “Araevin, there is one more thing… I heard that you spoke with the high mages on the Isle of Reverie.”

“I did.”

“I heard that they are giving careful consideration to your warning, and are deliberating on the best way to meet the danger you have seen.”

Araevin briefly wondered how the story was reaching Ilsevele. High mages rarely discussed their business with others. Could it be Amlaruil herself? Ilsevele had served as a captain in the Queen’s Guard, after all. He decided that it would be unseemly to interrogate his betrothed over the question.

“I don’t know anything about the course of their deliberations,” he said, “but I hope they intend more than just talk.”

“So instead of waiting or conferring with the high mages, you are setting out after the Gatekeeper’s Crystal immediately?” Disapproval gathered in her face.

“I don’t think we have time to wait,” Araevin answered. He paced in a small circle, trying to keep his frustration with the glacial pace of the high mages to himself, and not entirely succeeding. “While the high mages debate and ponder the right course of action, I feel doom approaching. Someone has to act now.”

“That is always the way it is with you,” Ilsevele murmured. “Something is always the only thing that matters. You are almost human in that, Araevin. You lose yourself in the moment. You always have, and since you… changed… in Mooncrescent Tower, I think it has become even more pronounced.”

“This is important,” he protested. “You know what I’ve seen. We can’t defeat the daemonfey until we can deal with Sarya’s wards in Myth Drannor, and we can’t defeat the wards without the Gatekeeper’s Crystal.”