(Author’s note: Nazareth had succeeded in doing what was considered to be the impossible. Even Gabrielle at the height of her power never attempted such a thing. But the cost of her success was extreme. Chronic migraines lingered with her for months, and watching so much injury and death filled even her waking hours with nightmarish visions. Then there were the invisible physical pains, shingle-like, that plagued her from time to time.
These maladies did not deter this feisty woman from reaching out with her mind on other occasions when need dictated. Throughout the long King’s War, Nazareth repeatedly returned to the captain’s bridge to become one with the Chisamore. She so dominated the contest when doing this that, as time wore on, just the arrival of the Chisamore on the scene would often send the enemy fleeing in panic.)
James carried his mother to her cabin. After dressing her injuries and tending to her needs, he dismissed the attendants. Sitting down next to her, he reached out and gently stroked the woman’s arm. For hours he buried himself in thought. What kind of a world was this place anyway? What was his responsibility to the people here and to his mother? Was he delivered to these worlds in anticipation of this day?
Surrendering his personal reservations, James leaned close to his mother and whispered, “I won’t leave you...”