He had only a moment to dwell on it before a swirling of dark magic caught him up and carried him away, plunging him downward into a vast emptiness. He fought against it, but his strength was insufficient. He was being drowned, the magic of the Black Elfstone submerging him in its vast darkness.
Walker Boh’s voice followed him down, filled with anger and recrimination. The words Drisker heard were unintelligible, yet he knew by their tone what they were saying. He had been Ard Rhys and given it up. Now he was asking to be saved from a fate he had brought upon himself. To be saved, he must become that which he had cast aside, yet why should he be granted this privilege? What was he willing to expend to secure it? He must embrace his destiny as Ard Rhys unconditionally and forever. He must submit himself to its needs. He must bow to it. His immediate reflexive response was to resist, and he fought it as he would a physical threat.
But he was helpless before such power. He was brought to his knees and made to bow. He was made to beg. The condition of his life would be forever changed if he went down this path he was seeking, and his acceptance of the inevitability of it must be total. Look what the others had given up: everything! In the end, even their lives. Was he willing to abide by this demand? Was he committed in a way he never had been before? Did he understand that there was no middle ground here, only that same patch of ground on which every Ard Rhys before him had stood, every Druid who had fought alone and in pain and in despair to protect what those before them had achieved?
Drisker quailed before the barrage of expectations. His resolution crumbled. He spiraled farther down into the darkness, and at some point he understood that he was never coming back if he did not embrace what was being demanded of him.
He would do this, he knew. But not while on his knees, and not when under such terrible duress.
He fought back anew, rising and straightening beneath the attack. He began to swim against the darkness, to claw his way through the oily depths to which he had been dragged. He was hammered back, but he would not give in. He fought on relentlessly. He knew what was needed and he had made his commitment, so there was nothing for it but to rise to it. To rise to the surface of his life, to the place where he belonged—back in the Four Lands, back among the Races, back with those few who had stood by him.
He surged through the pain and the dark magic and the gloom, feeling them beginning to give way, to acknowledge his determination and commitment to the future they wanted him to forge.
I’m coming back to you—Tarsha, Darcon Leah, Brecon Elessedil. I am ready to become what Walker Boh once became. Beware, Clizia!
Against the tide he swam, and as the tide lessened and the current died, the black began to fade and daylight flickered in the distance. The balance between life and death, success and failure, shifted in his favor. Casting away everything holding him back—fear, doubt, the past and its failures—he broke the surface of the magic that had fought to stop him.
Reborn. Remade. Arrived.
He took the first breath of his new life.
* * *
—
He was aware right away that something was different. It took him a moment to identify what it was. The light within the Keep was no longer hazy and dim. It was brighter and clearer and more intense than he remembered. Nor was the light beyond the walls an empty gray nothingness. Through the high windows of the hallways, he could see clouds massed and shadows trailing across the sky. He could see the branches and trunks of trees.
He could hear birdsong.
He could smell the forest.
He looked down at himself. His transparency was gone, and he was a solid presence once more, whole and complete. In spite of his resolve, he broke down in tears. The joy he felt was indescribable. He was home again. He had brought Paranor out of limbo and back into the Four Lands, and himself with it.
Cogline appeared next to him. You are now Ard Rhys once more, Drisker Arc.
His voice was not the same as before; it had changed, become more ethereal, more indistinct. More ghostlike. Drisker looked at him. “You can see this?”
It’s written all over you. Were you to look into a mirror, you would see it, too.
“I can feel it.” He paused. “It was grueling, old man. I was tested in ways I cannot describe. Mostly by the ghost of Walker Boh, but there were others, as well—men and women who were once Ard Rhys and now are gone. They stood before me and they made me see myself. They made me recognize my failures and weaknesses. They hammered at me with words and images like they were working a piece of iron. I was remade, reshaped…” He trailed off. “It turned me into what I had sworn I would not be again. It infused me with belief and power beyond what I have ever known. I do not know what it will mean for the future, but for now I am something more than what I was.”
You are what they once were, Drisker Arc. You are all of them. You become them when you take up their mantle. They infuse you with their knowledge, and they make you over. I saw it happen with Walker. I saw him become another Allanon and more. He had not Allanon’s presence or physical strength, but he had his determination and his conviction. I see all that in you, too.
Drisker moved over to a bench and sat. He was suddenly shaking, the ordeal he had endured washing over him, stealing his strength away. “I was made to see it. To see what is required of me.”
He buried his face in his hands, but Cogline let him be, standing silently to one side. A long time passed as they remained where they were, neither speaking nor even looking at each other. Drisker had his eyes closed and did not try to open them. He was reliving what he had gone through, what he had experienced—reminded of what he had agreed to, of what he now must do. It was humbling and a bit terrifying to know the depth of the commitment he had made.
But he embraced it and did not try to shy away.
Will you go out now? Cogline asked him finally. You are free to do so.
Drisker raised his head and looked at him. “In a minute.”
They wait for you, those who have stood vigil. I have already seen them, although they could not see me. I have looked at their faces and seen the wonder in their eyes. Paranor appeared before them out of nowhere, brought them to their feet and left them stunned. Now they wait for you to emerge. You must go.
He was right, of course. He could leave now, and he should. Drisker rose and started for the doors.
Ard Rhys! Cogline called out sharply, and Drisker turned. I must leave you now. You will not see me again. We are back in the world of the living, where the dead and the living are not meant to mingle. We are no longer ghosts together in a ghost world. Can you not tell from my voice? I am in spirit form, while you are once again flesh and blood. Our time is over. But know that I will still be within the walls of the Keep, still watching over things. Now and then, I expect I will see you. I wish you well.
“And I wish you the same,” Drisker said. “Thank you for giving me the chance to find myself. Had you not repeatedly provoked and challenged me, I might have given up. I owe you, old man, and I do not know how to pay you back for that.”
Cogline was sliding back toward the wall, fading as he went. Be what you have sworn you would. Protect the Druid order. Protect its legacy. Do not let Paranor be violated again. That will be payment enough.
A moment later he was gone, fading away to nothing.
Drisker stared after him, surprised by the sense of loss he was feeling. A page in his life had been turned—everything now changed, everything new.
He went out through the building’s doorways and into the courtyard that led to the Keep’s walls. And transformed, he returned to the real world.
THIRTY-THREE
Clizia Porse was still deep in the woods surrounding Paranor’s former site when the Keep abruptly reappeared. She did not see this happen, but she saw the flash of light through the trees and knew at once what it meant. She glanced
over at her companion and was not surprised to discover he had missed it. He was sleeping again, rolled into his blanket with his arms and legs sticking out, mouth open as he snored, oblivious. She was sick of him and sick of waiting for Drisker Arc to appear, and now she had a chance to do something about both.
She leaned over and shook him awake. “Get up! We have work to do!”
She did not try to hide her disgust. He had contributed little to the effort to monitor his sister and her companions, save whining about the cold and the waiting and his incessant frustration at not being able to just kill his sister and have done with it. His madness had consumed him to the point where reason no longer existed. She kept him under control by medicating him, but even that was beginning to lose its effect. He carried on long, one-sided conversations with his imaginary friend, Fluken, raging about this and that—most of it connected to killing his sister, and largely unintelligible. He was gaunt, and he smelled; she didn’t know when he had last bathed, but it must have been weeks ago. He was barely eating. His face had a haunted, diminished look.
Mostly, when he was awake, he played with the Stiehl, talking to himself all the while, explaining in detail what he would do to Tarsha once he got his hands on her. It was clear that all the possibilities she had concocted for his use had vanished, save the one. Well, if he got close enough to Drisker with the Stiehl, he would at least serve that purpose.
And once Drisker was dead, she would make certain Tavo Kaynin provided him with company on his journey to the netherworld.
Tavo was staring blankly at her. “Drisker Arc!” she hissed at him. “He’s back! This is your chance. Get up!”
She rose herself, demonstrating what that meant, and he dragged himself to his feet, still wrapped up in the blanket. He means to wear it! She stared at him in despair. “Here! Take this! It will warm you.”
She gave him a bit of a deadening agent to chew. It wouldn’t exactly warm him, but it would numb him sufficiently that he wouldn’t feel the cold. He downed her offering without objection and after a moment cast off the blanket. “Where are they?” he asked.
“Ahead. Now listen to me. When I give the signal, use your magic to hide yourself—the way I taught you. I will do the same with mine. We will become invisible to them so they will not know we are there. Don’t reveal yourself until I tell you to. Stay hidden, even after you kill the Druid. If they see you, they will be on top of you.”
He shrugged. “I’m not afraid of them.”
“Good for you, but you should be. They are dangerous, all of them. They have magic, too!”
“Not like mine. Mine is more powerful!”
He said it in a bragging way, a fool’s self-delusion. She did not bother to contradict him.
Instead, she led him through the trees, circling away from the campsite so that they were coming in from behind and off to one side. When they were close enough to hear voices, she slowed their pace. And when she spied the tallest of the Keep’s spires and the upper battlements of her walls, she dropped to a crouch, feeling a twinge of admiration that Drisker Arc had managed to make use of the Black Elfstone after all. That must have cost him something, trapped as he was within the very thing he was trying to retrieve.
She looked around, deciding on a spot where she and Tavo would hide and wait. They would only have one chance, and a mistake now would put an end to all her schemes. She chose her place of concealment carefully and began to crawl forward.
But when she glanced back, Tavo was just standing there, fully revealed, staring at nothing and muttering to himself. Angrily, she skittered backward and dragged him off his feet and down beside her, putting a finger to her lips and hissing at him to be silent. He glowered at her but went still.
Ahead, Tarsha and her companions were standing at the edge of the forest, looking toward the gates of the Keep. They had their backs to Clizia, so she could move freely for the moment. The day was gray and the air chill; the snow that had fallen during the night was a patchy white, covering the forest trees and the earth below. The gloom was offset slightly by the brightness of the new-fallen snow’s reflection, but not enough to disperse the shadows.
Clizia brought her advance to a halt in a thick cluster of scrub, staying low and pulling Tavo Kaynin forward once more to crouch beside her. Tavo’s eyes were dark with an intensity that burned all the way through him, and his face was gaunt and ghostly. If she had not known already that he was mad, she would have been certain of it now.
“What next?” he whispered, his hands clutching the handle of the Stiehl.
“We wait,” she replied, and her sharp eyes found his. “But not long. Not long at all.”
* * *
—
Drisker came through the service door in the side of the Keep’s outer wall, sliding into view with a mix of wonder and caution, his gaze devouring everything. He saw Tarsha first, rushing toward him from the trees, outdistancing Dar Leah and the Elven prince. Her excitement was palpable, and her face was flushed with joy.
“Drisker!” she called. “You’ve done it! You’re back!”
She was on him then, leaping up, her arms wrapping about his neck, hugging him as if she would never let go. He could hear her sobbing and feel the wetness of her cheek against his own. He was touched by her unbridled display of emotion as he had not been touched by anything for a very long time. So in spite of his natural reticence, he hugged her back.
“We’d just about given up on you,” Dar Leah announced as he came up to them, stretching out his hand. Drisker had to reach past Tarsha to take hold of it. “Must have been a bit worrying to find yourself trapped like that.”
“More than a little.” Drisker moved Tarsha away from him a few inches. “There, now; all’s well. Give me be a moment to greet the others.”
She released him reluctantly, backing away—but not so far that she couldn’t reach out to him if she felt the need. Brecon eased past her, giving her a knowing look, and clasped hands with the Druid, as well.
“You’ve been missed in more ways than you know,” he announced, his face a mix of excitement and relief.
“Clizia would no doubt have preferred that my absence continued indefinitely.”
“Yes, she tried to get rid of us, as well.”
“Any sign of her?”
Brecon shook his head. “I took a look around half an hour ago. We seem to be alone out here. No one was expecting anything like this.” He gave the Druid and the Keep a sweeping gesture. “Back out of the air, like in the old days.”
“Yes, well. Paranor and myself, we’re inseparable,” Drisker deadpanned.
“How did you get free?” Tarsha asked. “Do you have the Black Elfstone?”
Drisker held out one hand to show her the Stone. Its opaque surface reflected no light, and was the color of damp ashes. The Druid gave her a moment to study it before he tucked it away again.
He glanced around at the snow-coated trees. “It’s a bit early for winter. This snow must have just fallen. It’s still fresh.”
“Last night,” Dar Leah told him. “It’s been awfully cold out here waiting for you to show up. Six days, we’ve been here. Another night or two and we would have had to think hard about staying any longer.”
Drisker nodded. “Another night or two would have seen the end of me.” He looked now at Tarsha. “What about your brother? What happened to him?”
She shook her head. “We don’t know. He might still be with Clizia.”
“Tell me everything, then. But quickly, please. We have to go. It won’t do for us to be found here, once the news of Paranor’s return gets reported. The Skaar may well try to occupy her all over again when they learn she’s back. Others, too. By now, most of the Four Lands must know that the Druids are gone and the Keep abandoned.”
“But the Guardian still wards her,” Dar said. “No one can get in
side.”
“Some will insist on finding that out the hard way. Do we have an airship nearby?”
Dar nodded. “Back through the trees, maybe a mile off.”
“Let’s walk that way while Tarsha tells me what’s happened. Come.”
Wrapping his black cloak about him, he started off. He was still weak from his ordeal, not yet fully recovered, but he gave nothing of this away. Nor did he tell his companions of the prickling to his senses that told him something wasn’t right. He couldn’t explain what it was, but knew it would be better if they could get to a safe place.
He started walking. Perhaps he should have suggested finding shelter inside Paranor, but he wasn’t sure he could make himself go back inside again just yet. What it had taken to get free of his imprisonment was still too fresh in his mind. A little time and space were needed.
They walked down off the rise and into the trees with Dar and Brecon leading, and Drisker and Tarsha trailing. Their footfalls made no sound in the soft dry coating of snow, its carpet a pristine layer of whiteness.
Except where, off to his left, there were signs that something had crawled through the snow…
* * *
—
Tavo Kaynin was already moving toward him, wrapped in a cloaking of wishsong magic that rendered him invisible. The old woman had taught him how to do this. He was making no sound, neither his movements nor his breathing giving anything away.
In his hand he held the Stiehl, ready for use.
Remember, use the blade on the Druid. Strike him down first. He is the most dangerous and the one most likely to protect Tarsha if you don’t kill him first. You can use it on the others afterward. They will not even know you are there—any of them. They will not be able to see you as you kill them. All will die by your hand.