David Gemmell - Dark Moon

Duvodas and the Oltor moved across the desert of rocks which once had been the Enchanted Park of Eldarisa.

Together they climbed to the first sandstone ridge of Bizha. Duvodas remembered the first time he had climbed the Twins, scaling Bizha and standing on the top of the natural stone tower, from there to leap across the narrow space to land - breathless with excitement and fear - atop Puzhac. All the Eldarin children made the jump. It was said to epitomize the journey from childhood to manhood.

Now, on this first ridge, Duvo shivered, more at the sadness of his memories than the cold winds howling around the rocks. 'Why are we here?' he asked the Oltor.

'Observe,' said the Oltor Prime. He began to sing, his voice melting into the wind, becoming part of it, dark as the night, icy as a winter peak; a song of starlight and death. The music filled Duvo's heart, and he unwrapped his harp and began to play the notes clear and clean in perfect harmony with the Singer.

Duvo had no idea where the music came from. It was unlike anything he had ever played, weaving a mood that was dark and contemplative. Then it changed. The Oltor's sweet voice rose. Still matching the bitterness of a bleak winter, the Oltor introduced a light rippling chord, like the first shaft of sunlight after a storm. No, thought Duvo, like a birth on a battlefield, incongruous, out of place, and yet beautiful.

A gentle light began to glow some twelve feet above the rocky ground, spreading out like a mist across the land. Then it rose, fashioning itself into ghostly, translucent images. Duvo ceased his playing, and watched in silent awe as the city of Eldarisa was slowly sculpted in light. Not just the buildings, but the flowers of the park and the people of the Eldarin: frozen in place, transparent. Duvo felt he could step from the rock and become part of the light, for it glowed mere inches from the ridge on which he sat. He was about to do so when the Oltor ceased his song and laid his hand on Duvo's shoulder. 'You cannot walk there, my friend. Not yet,' said the Oltor Prime.

The golden figure raised his hands, palms pressed together as if in prayer, then drew a vertical line through the air. As his hands swept down Duvo felt a rush of warm air strike him. His eyes widened with shock as he saw sunlight stream through the line made by the Oltor's hands. The line opened further, and through it Duvo could see the City of Eldarisa, not fashioned in light but in stone and wood, solid and real, the grass of the park green and verdant.

'I have opened the Curtain,' said the Oltor Prime. 'Follow me.'

On trembling legs Duvodas stepped through. There were children, statue still, throwing a ball which hung in the air like a small moon. Older Eldarin were sitting on park benches. Not a movement could be seen.

There was not a breath of wind. Duvo glanced up at the summer sky. Clouds stood motionless.

'How can this be?' he asked the Oltor.

'Time has no meaning here. Nor will it. Come, help me in what I must do.'

The Oltor Prime moved across the Great Square and up the broad flight of granite steps to the entrance of the Oltor Temple. There were some Eldarin inside. A father, statue-still, was pointing towards a section of bones laid upon a velvet-covered table. Beside him his children stood in silent, frozen wonder.

The Oltor Prime stood in the centre of the enormous hall, scanning the thousands of bones. Then he strode towards the high altar, and lifted a chunk of red coral. Duvodas followed him. 'This was once my lifeblood,' said the Oltor Prime. 'Now it will be the lifeblood of my people.' Lifting a section of blue velvet cloth, he tore a long strip loose. 'You will need to cover your eyes, my friend,' he said, 'for there will be blinding lights that would melt your sight away for good.' Duvodas took the velvet strip and tied it around his head. The Oltor handed him his harp. 'You will not know the song I am to sing, but let your harp follow it as your heart dictates.'

Once more the Oltor's sweet voice broke out in song. Duvo waited for several moments, feeling the rhythm, charting the melody. Then he began to play. Even through the velvet blindfold he could see the brightness grow. It was sharp and painful, and he turned away from it. The music was similar to the Song of Morning which Ranaloth had taught him many years before. But it was infinitely more rich and multi-layered. And slowly the song swelled, other voices joining in, until it seemed that a great choir was filling the Temple with a magic so potent that Duvo's senses swam.

He sank to his knees and let fall his harp. The music washed over him like a warm wave, and he lay down upon the stones and dreamed. In his dream he saw the Oltor Prime, standing before a host of his people.

The Curtain of Time was open once more, and the people filed slowly through it to a land of green fields and high mountains: a place of peace, harmony and tranquillity. Duvodas longed to go with them.

He awoke as the Oltor Prime touched his face, feeling more rested than at any time in his life. Pulling clear his blindfold, he saw that the Eldarin father was still pointing towards the high altar. But now there was nothing upon it. Swiftly Duvo scanned the great hall of the Temple. It was empty. Not one shard of bone remained - save the skull held in the hands of the Oltor Prime. 'You brought them back from the dead!' whispered Duvo.

'We brought them back, Duvodas. You and I.'

'Where are they?'

'In a new land. I must join them soon, but I need your help one last time.'

'What can I do?'

The Oltor lifted the skull. 'This is all that is left of me, my friend. I cannot join to it, for I cannot both sing and be born again. You must play the song you heard.'

'I cannot do it like you. I do not have the skill.'

The Oltor Prime smiled. 'You do not need the skill. You need the heart - and this you have.' The Oltor retied the blindfold. 'Join with me in the music. And when I fall silent, play on!'

Once more the song sounded. Duvo's fingers danced upon the harp strings. There was no conscious creation of sound, no planned melody. The music he played was automatic and instantaneous. He failed to notice when the Oltor's voice faded away, and his fingers continued to dance effortlessly along the strings of his harp.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he let the music die away. 'We are here, Duvodas,' said the Oltor.

Duvo untied the blindfold and rubbed his eyes. Lying on the floor was the sleeping figure of Brune.

No longer golden-skinned, he was the sandy-haired young man Duvo had first seen in the Wise Owl tavern with the swordsman, Tarantio. Beside him stood the tall, naked figure of the Oltor Prime.

'I must leave now,' said the Oltor, 'and you must return to the world.' He handed Duvo a small piece of red coral. 'I have imbued this with a spell, which will open the Curtain twice only. It will take you to the land below a monastery on a high mountain some forty miles south-east of the ruined city of Morgallis. There you will find Sirano. He has the Pearl with him. Take Tarantio with you, if he will go.'

'Could you not stay and help us?'

'I wish to see no more wars. I have touched the stars, Duvodas, and seen many wonders. The Eldarin allowed the humans through the Curtain many centuries ago. Do you know why?'

'Ranaloth told me it was because our world was dying.'

'Yes, there was charity and kindness involved in the deed. But the underlying reason was that the Eldarin knew you were similar to the Daroth. They felt great guilt for imprisoning an entire race. You humans were not as grossly evil as the Daroth, but you had a capacity for vileness which the Eldarin were trying to understand. They believed that if they could master relations with the humans it would better help them when they restored freedom to the Daroth.'