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guess he was no longer alone until a familiar, sardonic voice called out to
him.
"You did admirably." Ivain paused, thoughtfully tossing pebbles from hand to
hand. His hair gleamed copper-bright in late sunlight. "Wrecked yourself,
truly, and for what? The survivors will say you caused the devastation. Their
priests will curse your name in song, and children learn to fear you."
Anskiere rose, clumsy with exhaustion. "There were no survivors. That's why
the Mharg sought the sea.
Nothing else remained for them to spoil."
He paused to control an anger he lacked the strength to express.
"You're lucky the destruction didn't spread beyond Elrinfaer."
"Why?" Ivain's hands stopped in the air, and the stones fell rattling to the
ground. "I'm tired of working for the Vaere."
Before Anskiere could respond, the ground parted. The sorcerer who was both
Firelord and Earthmaster vanished beneath the soil, his laughter ringing like
curses upon the air.
"I'll find you," whispered the Stormwarden. "When I do, I will bind you with a
geas so potent you'll never forsake your kind again."
So began the hunt for Ivain which culminated at Northsea; forced at bay
against the ocean, the Firelord crouched at the
Stormwarden's feet. There, under duress, Ivain completed the bindings,
stabilizing the enchantments which prisoned the Mharg-demons. The powers of
his Earthmastery impressed the Keys to the wards into the cube of basalt that
once had served as the lightkeeper's door stop. After, Anskiere had pronounced
his sentence upon the Firelord who had deserted him at Elrinfaer, the bitter
effects of which were to pass through the next generation, to Jaric.
That instant, the dream shattered. Flung precipitously out of the
Stormwarden's memory, the son of Ivain tumbled through blackness. Sound,
sight, all sensations were lost to him. The Llondel withheld any guidance.
Abandoned to some nightmare pocket between his own existence and the
sorcerer's past, Jaric cried aloud. He struggled to reorient, half-deranged by
panic.
That moment a voice boomed out of the dark.
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"Name yourself, trespasser! What brings you to intrude upon the Stormwarden of
Elrinfaer?"
No longer able to distinguish where dream-image ended and reality began, Jaric
felt his awareness netted by a will like steel shackles. Power tore through
him, ruthless and sure, stripping him to his innermost self.
Threatened by total annihilation, he abandoned resistance. The touch softened
and abruptly released. Light flared and dimmed. Thrown to his knees, Jaric
opened his eyes to the sight of a carved stone fireplace, and a room that
disoriented him utterly. No trace remained of ice cliffs, rain, or the chill
of the windy night. His hands dug into the pile of a richly patterned carpet,
and the clothing on his back was dry.
"Ivainson Jaric," said a voice at his back, gently, but terrible with command.
The boy rose. Bewildered and shaken, he faced the speaker, and for the first
time beheld Anskiere of
Elrinfaer. The Stormwarden waited before a faded square of tapestry. His robes
fell from straight shoulders, the velvet creaseless and blue as the skies of
summer. Firelight played over silver hair, jutting brows, and a face creased
deeply by weather and hardship.
"You sought me," the Stormwarden said.
Jaric blinked. "Where am I? How did I get here?" He raised a hand to his
tunic, groped, and found the
Keys to Elrinfaer missing. Panic shook him. "The Llondian!"
"Sent you to me," Anskiere finished quickly. "This chamber is an
illusion, no more and no less than a thought within my mind. And the Llondelei
are not your enemy."
Jaric reddened. "They are demons."
"All races of Kor's Accursed are not alike. Some would consummate their hatred
against man to the
detriment of the rest. If the Mharg fly again, the Llondelei would perish."
Anskiere watched with understanding as Jaric absorbed this revelation. "Where
the Keys are concerned, the Llondel is your ally."
Jaric met the sorcerer's eyes, found them deep as the horizon at the sea's
edge. He wanted to feel anger, but could not. Once he had believed that
Anskiere had cursed the Firelord in vengeance for past wrongs.
Now he knew differently. The geas delivered at Northsea had been created
solely against need, that the betrayal which ruined Elrinfaer should never
again be repeated.
Anskiere spoke into the silence. "When I sent my summons, I already knew Ivain
was dead."
The statement held multiple meanings. Jaric felt his throat constrict. Ivain
dead meant his heir must answer, perhaps repeat the tragedy engendered by the
Cycle of Fire; this Anskiere had known. Even as he called, the grief of that
decision had stamped irrevocable sorrow on his heart. The Stormwarden saw,
down to the least ramification, exactly what consequences he had set upon the
untrained shoulders of the boy from
Morbrith Keep.
"If you have questions, ask them now. I will answer as best I can. This may be
the last time we communicate." Anskiere clarified with unemotional calm. "In
sending you to me, the Llondel has shortened the span of my endurance. She
took a risk that won't be repeated."
"She?" Jaric looked up, astonished. He had never thought of demons being
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