‘I awoke with my lungs burning and feeling as if I had been frozen to my bones,’ said Pug.
Acaila said, ‘You do not enter the realm of death while you are alive - not unless you make extensive preparations.’
Pug said, ‘Are we to return to Lims-Kragma’s halls?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Acaila. ‘That is why we must do what we are to do here. Time passes differently in other realms, that much we remember from our Master’s travels across the dimensions. You may be gone but hours, yet experience years. You may be gone months, yet experience minutes. We have no means to know which will be true. However long it takes, you are to leave your bodies for a while. Tathar and I will ensure your bodies are ready to receive you when you return. We shall keep you alive.’
Miranda said, ‘We appreciate the effort.’
Pug turned and saw her dubious expression. ‘You don’t have to come,’ he said.
‘I must,’ she said. ‘You’ll understand.’
‘When?’
‘Soon, I think,’ she answered.
‘What must we do?’ Pug asked Acaila.
‘Lie down,’ he answered.
They did as he bade and he said, ‘First, you must remember what I said about the passage of time. This is important, for you must hurry while you are in spirit form. If you linger but for an hour, months may pass here on Midkemia, and we know how quickly the enemy approaches. Second, your bodies will follow your spirits. When you return, you may not find yourselves here. If all goes as we hope, you will arrive where you need to be, and Tathar and I will know you were successful because you will awaken here or your bodies will vanish from our sight. Last, we cannot help you return. This is something you must accomplish by your own arts. We shall know if you fail only when your bodies die despite our efforts. Our arts can do only so much.
‘Now close your eyes and attempt to sleep. You will see visions. When they first come to you, they will be as dreams. But they will become more real to you as the moments pass. When I call to you, stand up.’
Pug and Miranda closed their eyes. Pug heard Acaila’s voice as the ancient eldar Spellweaver began chanting. There was something tantalizingly familiar about the words, but he could not quite recognize them. It was as if he heard the words of a song forgotten the moment he heard the words.
Soon he dreamed of Elvandar. He could see the faint glow of the magic-imbued trees above him, as if his eyes were open. But they appeared to him as brilliant shimmering colors, blues and greens, golds and whites, reds and oranges, and the sky was as black as the darkest tunnel under the mountains.
Pug ‘looked’ deep into that void and soon found specks of color appearing against the blackness. Time passed unnoticed as he saw the spirits of stars dance across the heavens. A strange, distant keening sound intruded on his awareness, also familiar yet unrecognized.
Time continued to slip by, and Pug was lost in an awareness unlike anything he had ever experienced. The texture of the universe lay open to him, not the outer shapes, or even the illusions of matter and time, but the very fabric of reality. He wondered if this was the ‘stuff’ Nakor spoke of, the fundamental matter of all that was.
His mind started to soar, to voyage through the distances, and he discovered he could move at will from place to place. Yet he sensed he still lay in the grove. Something about his body had changed, and he felt alien powers and odd sensations course through him.
Not since his time on the Tower of Testing, high above the Assembly on the distant world of Kelewan, had he felt so connected to the world around him. Thinking of that time in his life, he turned and looked ‘down’ at Midkemia.
Suddenly he floated miles above the highest peaks of the Kingdom, with seas and coastlines looking like maps to his perception. But rather than flat lifeless things, the very land and seas were living things, pulsing with power and beauty.
He shifted his perceptions and saw every fish swimming in the sea. How very much like being a god! he thought.
‘Pug.’ A distant call and one that almost caused him to lose his perception.
‘Find Macros,’ came the instruction. ‘And ‘ware the time!’
He glanced one way and another, and every being on the world had a signature of energy, a line of force that started at Sethanon, at the Lifestone, which bound all living things in Midkemia together. As time passed, lines vanished as beings died, and new lines sprouted from it as births occurred. It looked like nothing so much as an emerald fountain of pulsing energy, life incarnate, and it took Pug’s breath away.
Among the myriad strands he sought one, one with a familiar quality to it. He lost track of time, and did not know if hours or years passed, yet eventually he saw something familiar.
The Sorcerer! he thought as he saw a particular pulsing line of force. How strong and distinct it was, he thought as he focused. But it was odd. It existed in two places at the same time.