Tathar said, “You understand our ways. We shall decide when we must decide.”
Martin rose slowly to his feet. “My counsel to you then is this: until the change has clearly shown itself to be toward the Dark Path, do not mistakenly give too much weight to ancient fears. I have long been taught that those who now rule in Elvandar are of heartier nature and more independent mind than those who were first set free by the Valheru. Stay your hand until the last. Something good may come of this yet, or if not that, something that is not entirely ill.”
Tathar nodded. “Your counsel is given well. It is well received.”
Martin looked heavily burdened “I will do what I can. Once I was able to influence Tomas, perhaps I may yet again. I will go meditate upon the matter, then seek him out and speak with him.” None in the circle around the Queen’s court spoke as he left. They knew his heart was as troubled as their own.
The throbbing had become worse, not quite a pain, but a discomfort that grew unnervingly more persistent Tomas sat in the cool glade, near the quiet pool, struggling within himself. Since coming to live in Elvandar, he had found his dreams little more than vague shadowy images, with half-remembered phrases and names to grasp. They were less troublesome, less fearful, less a presence in his daily life, but the pressure within his head, the dull near-ache had grown. When he was in battle, he became lost in red rage, and there was no sense of the ache, but when the battle lust subsided, especially when he was slow to return to Elvandar, the throbbing returned.
Footsteps sounded lightly behind, and without turning, he said, “I wish to be alone.”
Aglaranna said, “The pain, Tomas?”
A faint stirring of some strange feeling rose briefly within, and he cocked his head as if listening for something. Then he answered curtly, “Yes. I will return to our rooms soon. Leave now and prepare for me to join you later.”
Aglaranna stepped back, her proud features showing pain at being addressed in such a tone. She turned quickly and left.
As she walked through the woods, her emotions churned within. Since surrendering to Tomas’s desire, and her own, she had lost the ability to command him, or to resist his commands. He was now lord over her, and she felt shame. It was a joyless union, not the return of lost happiness she had hoped for. But there was a will-sapping compulsion, a need to be with him, to belong to him, that stripped away her defenses. Tomas was dynamic, powerful, and sometimes cruel. She corrected herself: not cruel, just so removed from any other being, no comparison could be made. He was not indifferent to her needs; he simply was unaware she had any. As she approached Elvandar, the soft fairy lights reflected in the shimmering tears that touched her cheeks.
Tomas was only partially aware of her departure. Under the dull ache within his head, a voice faintly called to him. He strained to listen, knowing its timbre, its color, knowing who called . . . .
“Tomas?”
Yes.
Ashen-Shugar looked across the desolation of the plains, dry cracked lands devoid of moisture save for bubbling alkali pots that spewed foul odors into the air. Aloud, to his unseen companion, he said, “It has been some time since we last spoke.”
Tathar and the others seek to keep us apart. You are often forgotten.
The fetid winds blew from the north, cold but cloying. The smell of decay was everywhere, and in the residue of the mighty madness that had gripped the universe around, only faint stirrings of life reasserting itself were felt.
“No matter. We are together again.”
What is this place?
“The Desolation of the Chaos Wars. Draken-Korin’s monument, the lifeless tundra that was once great grasslands. Few living things abide here. Most creatures flee to the south, and more hospitable climes.”
Who are you?
Ashen-Shugar laughed “I am what you are becoming. We are one. So you have said many times.”
I had forgotten.
Ashen-Shugar called, and Shuruga sped toward him over a grey landscape, while black clouds thundered overhead. The mighty dragon landed, and his master climbed upon his back. Casting a glance at the spot marked by ash, the only reminder of Draken-Konn’s existence, the Valheru said, “Come, let us see what fate has wrought.”
Shuruga leaped into the heavens, and above the desolation they flew. Ashen-Shugar was silent as he rode upon Shuruga’s broad back, feeling the wind blowing across his face. They flew, and time passed them by, as they shared the death of one age and the birth of another. High in the blue sky they soared, free of the horror of the Chaos Wars.
It is worthy of sorrow.
“I think not. There is a lesson, though I cannot bring myself to know it Yet I sense you do.” Ashen-Shugar closed his eyes as the throbbing returned.
Yes, I remember
“Tomas?”