But Billy’s discipline had reached its limits. In the afternoon he had spent among the elves, he came to love Illuma and its inhabitants, with their joyous songs and dances and their carefree way of life. He sat now in dismay, fallen from his unintended plateau, staring out the room’s small window at the frolicking below. For though the shadow of Ungden stretched toward the elves, it could not put an end to their eternal merrymaking.
In the room across the hall, Reinheiser worked hard to calm down the furious captain.
“How dare they?” Mitchell shouted, the veins in his neck standing out in protest. “Locking me up! And after I offered to help them.”
“A hollow offer,” snorted Reinheiser, who knew Mitchell’s desires and ambitions well enough to understand that the captain wouldn’t help anybody unless doing so would bring him closer to his own goals. These elves, so childish and carefree, had no place in Mitchell’s final plans. He might use them, or enslave them, but—Reinheiser knew beyond doubt—the captain certainly had no intention of helping them.
“What do you mean by that?” Mitchell asked warily.
“Come now, Captain. Surely you do not expect to raise an army from these helpless little creatures.”
“No,” Mitchell admitted, and gave a nasty laugh. “But they don’t know that.”
“Of course not,” Reinheiser agreed. “And do not worry, I believe that you have convinced a few of them at least that you are a friend.”
“And this is how they repay me.” He slammed his fist into the locked door. “I’ve got to get out of here!”
“To Calva, I suppose.”
“Of course to Calva. And the court of Ungden.”
“Where you will take over?” the physicist mused. “I do not think that Ungden is one who will give up his ill-won throne so willingly.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Mitchell agreed. “But maybe he’ll reward a great leader from another world, a man who delivers to him his greatest enemy, with a place of honor in his court, or perhaps even a little kingdom of my own.”
“Either of which would be a solid base for you to raise an army,” Reinheiser reasoned.
“An army with guns,” the captain confirmed, savoring his fantasy of power with obscene delight.
“And the equipment to machine such pieces?” Reinheiser asked. “Knowing the parts of a gun does not bestow the ability to manufacture those parts. Are there metals available strong enough? And what of powder?”
“It can be done,” Mitchell insisted.
Reinheiser offered a little smile. “Indeed,” he said. “Or if not guns, then surely other weaponry superior to that we have seen.”
Mitchell nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. “Then I’ll rule this world,” he calmly remarked, his smile widening. It proved but a temporary reprieve from his anger and frustration, though, and the light quickly left his face. “What’s the use?” he groaned. “It’s all just a dream. Even if we could get out of this room, which we can’t, we’d never find our way out of this stupid valley.”
“Yes we would,” Reinheiser replied, and he was the one beaming now. He pulled a rolled parchment out of his cloak and presented it to Mitchell, who saw as he unrolled it that it held a map, a map showing the way back to Mountaingate.
“Where’d you get this?”
“I made it.”
“But how?”
“Child’s play,” Reinheiser answered. “When the elves escorted us to this valley, I counted my steps and noted the turns and corridors we passed in the tunnel.”
“So that’s why you pulled that damned stunt about being afraid of caves,” Mitchell said. “To get next to the wall.”
Reinheiser nodded, feigning boredom as if it was all but a minor feat for one as brilliant as he. “The map is not perfect, but I am sure it will be sufficient to get us out of here.”
“You’ve got some mind,” Mitchell said, his face barely wide enough to hold his grin. “When do we leave?”
“Patience, my friend, patience,” Reinheiser answered. “The elves will relax their guard when the immediate danger has passed, and then—”
“And then,” the captain interrupted, spreading his arms wide, as if addressing a crowd, “all hail Mitchell, Lord of Aielle!” He began to laugh loudly.
Reinheiser joined him, though less heartily. The physicist knew that there were other powers to contend with that Mitchell hadn’t considered, and in truth, he thought Mitchell’s lust absolutely ridiculous.
Late that afternoon, Ardaz and Ryell sat on the dais in the throne room as Arien paced uneasily back and forth before them.
“Arien, let him go,” Ardaz pleaded. “We can trust that one.”
“Trust him!” Ryell exclaimed. “He is a man. How can we believe there is any good in him? Men have shown nothing but hatred for Illumans. If they could find us, they would kill all of us in an instant. And you ask us to entrust our lives to one?”
“Being a man, I certainly resent that opinon,” Ardaz said, though he understood Ryell’s bitterness toward his kind. It was a common tale in Illuma that Erinel’s parents, Ryell’s brother and sister-in-law, had been slaughtered on a mountain pass by humans when Erinel was just a child. Arien doubted the story, suspecting instead that the unfortunate couple had been waylaid by rogue talons, and though Ardaz also didn’t believe that men had perpetrated the deed, he had no proof with which to dispute Ryell’s deep-rooted convictions.
“You are different,” Ryell replied. “You are a wizard, and harmless enough.”
“What business could he possibly have in the witch’s wood?” Arien asked, keeping the conversation in line. Arguments between Ryell and Ardaz escalated easily, and Arien knew from experience that these two could ramble on for hours if allowed to sidetrack.
“What business, indeed!” Ardaz replied. “Why, what business could he possibly have here? This one’s path, I think, is guided by forces beyond us, you know—far, far beyond us. I wouldn’t think it wise for us to detain him. Might get them mad, you see, and we wouldn’t want that. No, if he wishes to return to Avalon, then we should let him.”
“Should we give them all the free run of Illuma as well?” Ryell said with a snarl. “And let these unseen forces you speak of lead us to our destruction?”
“No, certainly not!” the wizard replied. “I speak only of the one called DelGiudice, and he, I daresay, has earned our trust.”
“That he has,” Arien agreed. “ ‘Still, I do not understand what she could possibly want with him.”
“She probably wants to turn him into a squirrel, that he can dance among her trees,” Ryell put in.
“Now you’ve gone too far!” Ardaz cried, and he leaped up, his eyes flashing with fury. Ryell sat unimpressed and unconcerned, holding fast to his belief that wizards were bumbling old fools, and witches merely the workings of a child’s imagination.
“Enough, Ardaz!” Arien commanded, but the wizard did not back away. Arien stepped between him and Ryell and matched the wizard’s fire with his own unyielding glare.
“When you returned to us thirty years ago, you agreed to honor my word and abide by our rules,” Arien said sternly, offering no room for compromise.
Ardaz grudgingly sat down.
“Ryell’s years are not numbered as long as ours,” Arien offered to appease the wizard. “He does not remember the Emerald Witch, or the old days when magic filled the air. Those times are merely tales by the fireplace to him.”
“He’s going to learn better, then, he is at that!” Ardaz grumbled, but his anger yielded quickly to the memories of that past age that came upon him.
“Arien,” he said calmly, “recall if you will, the days way back, the days of Ben-rin and Umpleby and the Justice Stone. I did much for your parents and kin back then, and I asked for nothing in return except your friendship and your trust. Trust me now, I beg. Let DelGiudice go.”
“What do you think she wants with him?” Arien asked.
“I do not know that she wants him a
t all,” Ardaz replied. “I only know that he must choose his own path, and now he chooses Avalon. Let him go, Arien. I will have friends watching him, I promise.”
Arien knew in his heart that Del had earned and deserved the trust of the Illumans, but he knew the consequences as well. Ryell and many others would be furious with him if he let Del go, and this was not a good time for his people to be divided.
But he decided finally to follow his heart, reasoning that the sacrifice of conscience was a far greater evil than anything Ungden could bring upon them. Arien would not accept that loss for the sake of precaution. With grim determination, yet softened with empathy, he looked Ryell straight in the eye. “DelGiudice may go.”
Ryell turned away.
“Splendid!” Ardaz shouted.
“But only after,” the Eldar continued, “the Calvans are clear of the lower hills around Mountaingate.”
“Desdemona is watching them now,” the wizard happily reported. “She will let me know when they are gone.”
“Also on that day, the other three may again walk freely in the valley,” Arien said. “We must learn if they, too, are worthy of our trust.”
Infuriated, trembling as if he was barely holding a thin line of control, Ryell turned back and shot Arien a look of utter contempt.
“Be calm, my friend,” Arien said. “You I appoint to oversee the watch of the other three, and you yourself shall escort DelGiudice down to the archway at Mountaingate. From there you can see that he enters Clas Braiyelle, and if that wood of peace and order allows him entry, then know he is no friend of Ungden the Usurper.”
“And the other three must return to, and remain in, their rooms at night,” Ryell suggested, and it pleased Arien to learn that his friend, obviously infuriated about his decisions, was apparently willing to accept them.
“As you wish,” Arien replied.
“Then I am satisfied.”
Del’s heart lifted high when Ardaz came to him with the news that he would be allowed to return to Avalon. Billy, too, danced when he learned that he would soon be able to again walk freely among the elves. The wizard thought that he had done them a favor by informing them of Arien’s decision, but in truth, the two men grew even more miserable as the days dragged by and still Desdemona did not return with news that the Calvan scouts were gone.
During this time, Sylvia and Erinel visited the room often and proved a tremendous comfort to the two men. Soon the four had become great friends, exchanging fine tales. Del was a bit disappointed, though, that neither Sylvia nor Erinel shared his enthusiasm about his return to Avalon. Whenever he spoke of Brielle, they looked at each other with concern and pity, as if they knew something about the witch that he did not, and they always changed the subject at the first chance. Del began to understand Ardaz’s advice to him about keeping his meeting with the witch private. Though he could hardly believe the incongruity of it, it came clear to him that the wizard had been correct in his observations that even the good people of Illuma didn’t fully accept the witch of the wood.
Ardaz spent most of the time in the other room, talking more with Reinheiser than Mitchell. They were a perfect match, for the physicist was an attentive audience and the wizard loved to talk. Reinheiser pressed Ardaz for stories of Istaahl, the White Mage, and the city of Pallendara, which the elves called Caer Tuatha. Try as he may, though, he could not get the wizard to elaborate about the Black Warlock, Morgan Thalasi, other than the common recounting of the Battle of the Four Bridges and of the days before the first mutation.
Finally, shortly after breakfast on the morning of the sixth day, Desdemona returned to Ardaz with the news that Mountaingate was clear.
“They stayed a long time,” Arien said when the wizard reported to him. “Do you think they found anything?”
“Oh, no, no,” Ardaz replied. “They were just stubborn, that’s all.”
“Let us hope,” Arien replied. “Go then and inform DelGiudice. He will want to be off right away. And tell the others that they may now leave their rooms.”
“Oh, simply splendid!” Ardaz cried, and he bolted out of the room.
“Take Erinel along with you, and DelGiudice,” Ariel said to Ryell.
“Yes, Eldar,” Ryell answered, “and woe to him if the wood refuses him.”
“It shall not.”
A short time later Arien and Ardaz saw the three off at the tunnel entrance on the western edge of the valley.
“Well, let’s get moving,” Del said impatiently, “A blindfold?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“No, friend,” Arien said, giving Ryell a sidelong glance. “This time you may travel without one.”
“I’m flattered,” Del stuttered, surprised. “But truly, I’d prefer to be blindfolded. If something goes wrong and I’m caught by Calvans, it’d be better for all of us if I honestly couldn’t lead them back here.”
Ardaz burst out in laughter. “There, Ryell, he has passed your silly little test.”
Arien, too, smiled broadly. “We hoped that you would see this wisdom.” Again he eyed Ryell. “We hoped that you would care enough not to jeopardize our safety.” With that, he tossed a hood to the man. “Farewell, my friend, I look forward to your return.”
“I’ll be back,” Del assured them. “Good-bye for now. And take care of Billy for me!” He shouldered the pack they had prepared for him, donned his hood, and entered the tunnel between Ryell and Erinel.
“There he goes,” Mitchell muttered, standing with Reinheiser a short distance away.
“It is better that he leaves,” Reinheiser replied. “DelGiudice would fight you if he knew your plans.”
“He’s a cockroach,” Mitchell growled. “And I’m going to come back and step on him.”
Reinheiser merely nodded and let it pass.
The journey to Mountaingate didn’t seem long at all to Del. He skipped through the tunnel and down the trail full of anticipation, his feet barely touching the ground. He could hardly stand still when the time came for Erinel to remove his blindfold.
“We are at the field, and there lies your destination,” Ryell grumbled pointing to the distant line of trees and obviously glad that this whole thing was almost over.
“Ardaz will know when I return?” Del asked. “I don’t want to be stranded down here.”
“He will know,” Erinel assured him. “And do not worry, someone will be here to meet you and guide you back to Lochsilinilume. Now, off you go!”
“Good-bye, then,” Del said, and he raced off to Avalon and his dream, his heart pounding.
But when he got to the forest, Del found no entrance. The road was gone! Confused, he began searching up and down the line of trees, yet no trail was to be found. In fact, the trees always seemed thickest wherever he searched, as if they were huddling together before him to block his path. He couldn’t even find any opening large enough for him to enter the wood. “That’s strange,” he whispered.
Under the archway, Ryell fitted an arrow to his bow.
“Uncle, no!” Erinel cried.
“Yes!” Ryell retorted. “It is the will of Arien and all have agreed. Look for yourself, Erinel, Clas Braiyelle will not have him! He is a spy of Ungden, certainly, and we have been deceived!” He drew back on his bowstring and began creeping across the field, Erinel following nervously.
At the wood, Del stood scratching his head. “How strange,” he muttered, mimicking the voice of his new wizard friend. “How very strange.”
Chapter 17
Clas Braiyelle
RYELL RAISED HIS bow and took deadly aim.
“Please, Uncle,” Erinel begged, grasping the arrow, “there must be another way! Surely he will surrender.”
Del didn’t notice them, though they were only a short distance away. He stood perplexed, staring at the living barrier before him. He had been here just a week ago, had traveled to this very spot down a path through these same woods. Yet now he could see no path. The elves called this place Clas Braiyelle
, “home of Brielle,” and such a name carried implications that went much deeper. As Talas-dun was an extension of the blackness of Morgan Thalasi, so Clas Braiyelle reflected the spirit of its namesake. When Del had crossed through here, he had sensed the magical essence that stamped the name of Brielle upon every aspect of Avalon, but only the very eldest of the Illumans, Ardaz, and the rangers could truly appreciate the relationship between the witch and her wood. She could alter the paths and close the borders as surely as she could clench her fist, could see through the eyes of the birds as easily as through her own. They were one, this woman and the land she had nurtured, soulmates and spiritmates journeying the paths of time in perfect harmony.
“Take your hand away,” Ryell commanded, jerking the arrow from Erinel and refitting it to his bow. “Too much have I heard of this one’s lies, and I shall accept no pleas for surrender. This human will get all that he and his kind deserve.” He turned back to aim, but Del was gone—gone down a path entering Avalon.
“Clas Braiyelle accepted him!” Erinel cried. “He has not deceived us, yet you would have slain him.”
Ryell said nothing, caught somewhere between relief and his unrelenting anger.
Del trotted down the path, whistling and humming as he went. The sun seemed warmer in here and more friendly, and the breeze that sifted through the trees carried the scents and sounds of springtime and irresistible contentment. For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, he was truly alone, yet he remained unafraid, even unconcerned. He felt at home in these woods, and welcome, oblivious to the fact that Avalon had allowed him entry only when his life was at stake.
He saw the mark of Brielle everywhere that morning, in the flowered embankments bustling with the frenzy of newly awakened insects, in the evergreen groves, dark and proud survivors of winter’s coldest blast, and he heard the rush of her spirit in the song of the streams swollen from the thaw on the mountains. Still, the witch remained ever elusive. Del hadn’t given any thought as to how he would find her; he had just assumed that she would be there to greet him when he entered her domain. But Avalon was a large forest, stretching many miles westward and many more to the south. In his elation at the pursuit of his fantasy, Del hadn’t even considered the scope of the task before him.