R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

“Across the room, from a forgotten corner of the council table, came an unexpected response. ‘Then I shall kill them.’ All sat in silent shock, and Ben-rin nearly collapsed, for the speaker was none other than the gentle wizard, Rudy Glendower. The other wizard in attendance, Perrault, understood and nodded his approval.

“Perhaps Umpleby, never trusting, also understood, for he confronted Glendower. ‘You?’ He laughed. ‘Once we put our faith in a wizard, and our blood ran freely for it. Yet we are to believe you?’

“Glendower rose tall above the lord. ‘I, too, have felt the stinger of Thalasi,’ he breathed with convincing anger, cold death in his eyes that Umbleby dared not question. ‘Tomorrow, I go north with the children, that there should be no blood in the city, and I shall slay them mercifully.’ Umpleby’s face chalked beneath the glare of the mighty wizard. ‘And you alone shall accompany me!’

“Glendower turned and looked deep into Ben-rin’s eyes, and the Overlord understood and openly agreed, hiding his relieved smile. Thus the council was ended.

“The solemn caravan left Pallendara and traveled in solitude across the rolling plain, shunned by fearful farmers. At nightfall on the seventh day they came to the foothills of the Southern Crystal Mountains, the northern edge of the Calvan fields. ‘We will sleep first,’ said Glendower. ‘And in the dark of the night, that none bear witness, our foul deed shall be done.’ Umpleby found sleep easily, for this task bothered him not at all. And Glendower came to him in his slumber and worked an enchantment upon him. In his dreams, Umpleby stood witness as the wizard slew the mutants one by one on a wide flat rock and buried their bodies in an unmarked grave. In truth, that night Glendower stole away with the children and hid them in the mountains, having already provided for their care with a secret friend. Glendower and the deceived Umpleby returned to Pallendara bearing tidings that the deed was done. Many times during the years of the second mutation, Glendower drove a cart of new mutants north, supposedly to the Justice Stone, as Umpleby had named the flat rock, but actually to the secret refuge.

“By day the children stayed hidden for fear of discovery, but under night’s black veil of protection, they danced joyously. Glendower named them Illumans, Children of the Moon, and their home, Illuma, Lochsilinilume in the tongue of wizards. And that their number might remain small and easily concealed, he, Perrault, and their secret friend joined their powers together and enspelled the children with the gift of long years.

“Villagers of the northern fields told fireside stories of the night dancers of the Crystal Mountains, and legends of the Illumans spread throughout all of Calva. But Ben-rin and then his heirs, with the help of the wizards, had little trouble dismissing the rumors as fanciful children’s tales. In this manner, Aielle remained at peace for many years.

“But,” Calae went on, his voice suddenly grim, “one-score and ten years ago, Ungden the Usurper, a descendant of Lord Umpleby, overthrew the line of Ben-rin and proclaimed himself Overlord of Pallendara. He banished Glendower, for he had somehow guessed the deception at the Justice Stone. With the noble heir of the line of Ben-rin and his supporters killed and Glendower exiled, the only hope for peace in Pallendara was Perrault, who had come to be known as Istaahl the White. But Istaahl, beyond belief, has supported the new Overlord, and war has been averted only through Ungden’s inability to find the secret mountain refuge.”

“You speak of generations and hundreds of years,” Reinheiser interrupted. “How long has it been?”

“More than twelve centuries have passed since you went beneath the sea,” Calae answered.

Mitchell snorted.

“Believe what you will,” Calae replied to him. “But dwell not in the past. Your destiny lies not there, but here in Aielle. A war is soon to be fought. A conflict not of good against evil, as was the Battle of the Four Bridges, but of nation against nation. Aielle is about to fight its Jericho, its first unnecessary war, and if that comes to pass, the new race of man may well embark upon the same path that led your race to its ultimate demise. The lessons of the past may yet save this world, and thus the Colonnae have guided you here.”

“Guided us?” Mitchell exclaimed.

Calae remained silent, letting the men sort things out for themselves. Doubts and confusion closed in on them; all of this was simply too much to digest. They sat with knotted brows, reflecting on the events that had befallen them, searching desperately for a logical explanation. Not Del, though. He leaned back comfortably on his arms and smiled warmly at Calae. He remembered the miracle at the ladder of the sinking Unicorn, and in his heart had known since that moment that someone was looking out for him.

Now he understood the identity of that guardian angel.

At length, Calae’s breeze came again. “A people call out to you,” he said. “Your path lies east, to Illuma.

“But now, sleep, ancient ones, for the road ahead is hard and long, and sorrow and weariness will find you in the days to come.” As he spoke, the mist returned, bringing with it suggestions of slumber the mortals could not resist. They collapsed into a deep and restful sleep.

Calae looked down upon them, mere shadows under the shroud of gray, and realized again that he had grown fond of this being called man and cared deeply about this race’s struggle to find its true path.

“Go, ancient ones,” he said softly. “Go hence to Lochsilinilume. Seek out the Children of the Moon and teach Aielle the lessons of the past.”

DUSTY SUNLIGHT WOKE them sometime later. They struggled to orient themselves, trying to distinguish reality from dreams. Gone was the cavern, or had that, too, been just the delusions of wounded men? They were outside now, sitting on the parched dirt of a wasteland that stretched brown and barren as far as they could see in every direction except north, where loomed the great ominous stone mountains, standing resolute and undiminished by the dulling veil of sea fog. Del shuddered as he viewed that towering range, jagged and foreboding, for the image of its black heart, Talas-dun, remained unnervingly clear in his thoughts.

Dressed still in their blue and white uniforms, each of them now had a hooded gray-brown cloak tied about his shoulders and a sheathed sword strapped to his hip. Water-skins and packs of provisions lay at their feet.

More riddles.

Despite the new situation, the pervading thought that pressed upon them was the image of Calae, and they understood him least of all. The memory of the angelic specter flooded each of them with distinctive, powerful feelings. To Mitchell, it was frustration and even anger, for in the presence of such a being, he seemed small and unimportant, and against the power of the Colonnae, he had no recourse. Reinheiser was also frustrated, not because he felt belittled, but because the mere existence of the Colonnae disputed the foundation of logic that had guided his entire life.

Billy and Doc Brady accepted the Colonnae prince as the embodiment of peace and serenity. Del felt that inner comfort as well, but in a more profound way. Calae was the promise of answers, the guide to truth and to a level of existence beyond the human experience.

Finally, Mitchell could contain his rage no longer. “What the hell was that thing?” he snapped.

“Hell?” Billy echoed, contentment stamped indelibly upon his face. “Nothing to do with hell.” Doc Brady chuckled in agreement, but Mitchell glared at him and Reinheiser was quick to attack.