The Lost Tales

“Were you followed,” asked Morlong cautiously from among the shadows, his appearance completely concealed except for the barely perceptible and occasional flutter of his black cloak in the gentle breeze.

  “No, my lord. All is as you asked of me. Ere before I return she shall be soundly asleep in my pavilion,” replied Christopher.

  “Excellent.”

  “She looks just like I remember,” remarked Christopher nostalgically.

  “She is the same and yet not.”

  “She never knew what I gave up to protect her, how much I loved her. Oh, I know I gave her a hard time. Sometimes I must confess it was rather fun teasing her, annoying her.”

  “That too was necessary.”

  “Was it? We could have avoided this whole mess; Anyu would not be on this alien world if I had just claimed what was mine.”

  “They would have killed you.”

  “I am dead anyway. How can I ever go home again? How can I ever face them again? Will there even be a home to return to ere this ‘great revolution’ of Lord Yelu’s climaxes?”

  “From the ashes of what was shall rise a new beginning, a new era to replace the Beinarian era.”

  “But will I live to see this new era you’ve spoken of since we first met?”

  “Do you wish to see it, be part of its rise?”

  Christopher trembled, “I do not know.”

  Christopher returned to his tent to find Anyu soundly asleep, the temporal differences between this world and Beinan still confusing her internal clock. Silently Christopher knelt beside her and kissed her lips, “I love you, even if you do not remember me.”