Macros smiled an enigmatic smile. “So was I. Perhaps the Valheru’s manipulation of the Lifestone was prevented from reaching fruition by Tomas’s sword stroke. I don’t know. The rift was opened, and the Dragon Host allowed to enter, but . . .” The old sorcerer’s eyes seemed alight with some deep emotion. “Some wonder or another, beyond my understanding, intervened at the last.” He looked downward. “It was as if the very stuff of life, the souls of all that lived upon this world, rejected the Valheru. The power of the Lifestone aided us, not them. That was from where I drew strength at the last. It was that which captured the Dragon Host and the Dreadlord and closed the rift. It was that which protected us all, keeping us alive.” He smiled. “You should seek, with care, to learn as much as you can about the Lifestone. It is a wonder beyond what any of us suspected.”
Macros was silent for a time, then looked at Pug. “You are as much a son to me, in a strange sort of way, as any I may have called that over the ages. At least you are my heir, and husbander of all the magic lore I have accumulated since coming to Midkemia. That last case of books and scrolls I held at my island will come soon to Stardock. I suggest you hide that fact from Kulgan and Hochopepa, until you’ve reviewed what’s there. Some of it is beyond any on this world but you, and whoever may follow you in our unusual calling. Train those around you well, Pug. Make them powerful, but make them loving, generous men and women as well.” He paused as he looked at the two boys grown to men, those lads from Crydee whom twelve years ago he had begun to mould to save a world and more. At last he said, “I have used both of you, ungently at times. But in the end it proved necessary. Whatever pain you may have endured is, I like to think, offset by the gains. You have achieved things beyond your boyhood dreams. You are now the caretakers of Midkemia. You have whatever blessing I may give.” With an unusual catch in his voice, his eyes moist and glowing, he softly said, “Goodbye and thank you.” He stepped away from them, then slowly turned. Neither Pug nor Tomas could bring himself to say goodbye. Macros began walking toward the west, into the sunset. Not only did he move away from them, but with the first step he seemed somehow to become less solid. With each additional step he became more insubstantial, transparent, and soon he was like mist, then less than the mist. Then he was gone.
They watched him go, saying nothing for a while. Then Tomas wondered, “Will he ever know peace, do you think?”
Pug said, “I don’t know. Perhaps someday he’ll find his Blessed Isle.”
They were again silent for a time. Then they returned to the King’s Pavilion.
There was a celebration in full swing. Martin and Briana had announced their plans to wed, to the obvious approval of everyone. Now, while others revelled in life and survival and the simple joy of living, Arutha, Lyam, Tomas, and Pug picked their way through the rubble that was Sethanon. The populace was housed in the less damaged western section, but they were only a distant presence. Still they moved cautiously, lest anyone observe them.
Tomas led them through a large crack in the ground, to what appeared a cave opening below the rubble of the keep. “Here,” said Tomas, “a fissure has opened, leading down to the lower chamber, the centre of the ancient city. Step carefully.”
Slowly they descended, seeing by a dim light of Pug’s magic arts, and soon they entered the chamber. Pug waved his hand and a brighter light sprang forth. Tomas motioned the King forward. Figures in robes stepped out of the shadows, and Arutha drew his sword.
A woman’s voice came from the dark. “Put up your sword, Prince of the Kingdom.”
Tomas nodded and Arutha resheathed his mystic blade. From out of the dark came an enormous figure, bejewelled and brilliant as light danced across a myriad of facets. It was a dragon, but none like any seen, for in place of scales once golden a thousand gemstones gleamed. With each movement, a rainbow of dazzling beauty washed over the monstrous form.
“Who are you?” asked the King calmly.
“I am the Oracle of Aal,” came the soft voice from the Dragon’s mouth.
“We struck a bargain,” said Pug. “We needed to find her a proper body.”
Tomas said, “Ryath was rendered mindless, her soul gone at the hands of the Dreadlord. Her body still lived, though damaged severely and hovering close to death. Macros healed her, replacing the destroyed scales with new ones fashioned from the gems of the treasure hidden here, using some unique property of the Lifestone. With his restored arts he brought the Oracle and her servants here. Now the Oracle lives within the emptied mind.”
“It is a more than satisfactory body,” said the Oracle. “It will live for many centuries. And it possesses many powers.”
“And,” added Pug, “she will remain forever vigilant over the Lifestone. For if any were to tamper with it, she would perish along with everyone else upon the planet. Until we find a way to seek out and deal with the Pantathians, the risk still exists that the Valheru could be recalled.”