Alutar: The Great Demon (83 page)

“I have been there before,” frowned Kalmar. “It is not much to look at. It is a poor village and nothing more.”

“Well,” shrugged Atule, “I would like to see it one last time. Humor me, Kalmar. I will not keep you there all day.”

Kalmar nodded and the two mages started down the hill and across the valley. They passed through the door in the wall, and Kalmar led the way to the unique building in the center of the village. Valera was already sitting on the floor behind the small desk, a scroll in her hands. She looked up in surprise as the two men removed their boots and entered the one-room building.

“I thought you would be far away by now,” Valera said softly. “What brings you here?”

“Memories,” answered Atule. “You are sitting on the wrong side of that desk.”

Valera frowned in confusion. She set the scroll down on the desk as the men approached.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You are here because the Mage promised Crystil that someone would take her place,” declared Atule, “but this is not where you belong. Where you belong is alongside Kalmar.”

“The Mage’s word cannot be broken,” retorted Valera. “These people need me.”

“Kalmar needs you more,” Atule insisted. “Now, move out of my place.”

“Your place?” gasped Valera. “What are you talking about? You lost Crystil by refusing to stay here with her. How can you now propose to take her place?”

“I do so precisely because I lost Crystil,” Atule explained. “Twice. I will not let Kalmar and you suffer the same fate that Crystil and I did. Besides, these village people are all that Crystil left behind. If she deemed them so important to her life then I want to get to know them better. I will keep the Mage’s promise, not you.”

“But the spells,” Valera blurted out. “Crystil purposely explained them all to me. You won’t know what to do.”

“Then teach me,” Atule said with determination. “I ask only three things from the two of you. Teach me what I need to know, and promise to visit me occasionally. I would also appreciate it if you looked in on the Rhodans from time to time. I will write you a letter of introduction.”

* * * *

In Herinak Castle, the Lair was almost empty. The young princes and princesses had all left, Prince Bultar being the last to leave. Yet one suite was still in use. In the bedroom of that suite, four mages stood over a young woman lying in the bed. The woman was not conscious, and had not been for many days.

“It’s been too long,” fretted Theos. “I do not think that she will ever wake up. Why did we do this? Why didn’t we let her die?”

“Hush,” Balamor replied soothingly. “You know that we could never have refused to help her. Do not torment yourself so.”

“It is not my torment that bothers me,” snapped Theos. “You know what I am saying.”

“You are too impatient, my Tyronian friend,” Sigfrid said calmly. “I have already seen Zalaharic perform miracles that shattered my beliefs. Give him time to work on her. He has already healed her visible wounds, and those were so horrific that I would never have believed such healing possible if I had not seen this elf in action before.”

“I find no fault with Zalaharic,” sighed Theos. “I truly took her for dead when we first saw her, and I stand amazed at what he was able to do. I agree with you, Sigfrid. I would not have put much faith in anyone healing such wounds as she had. That sword thrust should have killed her, and he healed those internal wounds, but to do so and then have her die because of a knock on the head is sorrowful. Worse, the thought of her living but never regaining consciousness is what truly terrorizes me. That is the worst of all punishments.”

Zalaharic sighed and removed his hands from Althea. He straightened up, one hand going to his back as he arched with stiffness. Sigfrid hurried across the room and poured a cup of kioji tea. He handed it to the elf, and Zalaharic drank it down. The elf eased himself into a chair and sighed again.

“The knock on her head is not the problem,” he announced to the other mages. “If it were, I could easily bring her to consciousness.”

“Then what is the problem?” asked Sigfrid.

“She simply has no will to live,” answered the elf. “In fact, she is fighting my attempts to revive her. She wants to die.”

“Why?” scowled Theos.

“Because she saw Karl die,” answered Zalaharic. “Finding that memory is what clued me in on her true condition. If she had gone unconscious because she struck her head when she fell, she would not have seen Karl dropped from the tower. Therefore, she was still conscious at that time. The two of you arrived only moments later. Isn’t that true?” he asked as he glanced at Theos and Balamor.

“Theos did,” answered Balamor. “I maintained the illusions while Theos went to retrieve Althea.”

“Her eyes were open when I arrived,” frowned Theos, “but they were not functioning. It was akin to a stare of death. With blood all over her, I thought she was dead.”

“Understandable,” Zalaharic nodded. “You were wise to have rescued her anyway.”

“Was I?” retorted Theos. “Karl might be able to cope with her death, but he cannot cope with another Lyda. If Althea never regains consciousness, it will tear Karl apart. He will wish that Peanut never saved him with that levitation spell. I worry that he will commit suicide, Zalaharic. A man can only take so much, and Karl has already taken that and more.”

“That is Karl’s decision to make,” frowned Zalaharic as he rose to his feet. “There is nothing medically wrong with Althea now. I can do no more for her.”

The elven mage exited the room and entered the sitting room. Karl Gree was stretched out on the couch asleep. Zalaharic walked to the couch and moved Karl’s legs so he could sit down. The Knight of Alcea woke with a start as the elf sat on the couch. Karl sat and looked questioningly into the elf’s eyes.

“Will she live?” Karl asked hesitantly.

“There is nothing wrong with her,” Zalaharic stated, “but I cannot answer your question. She is still unconscious. Karl, she thinks that she saw you die, and she has no desire to live. I am at a loss to solve that problem. There is nothing more that I can do.”

Karl gripped his chin, his fingers covering his mouth. Eventually, he straightened and nodded to the elf.

“I am indebted to you, Zalaharic,” he said sincerely. “I did not think she could be healed, but you did that, and I will be eternally grateful to you for that effort. May I see her?”

Zalaharic nodded, and Karl rose to his feet. When Karl entered the bedroom, the other three mages left the room without a word, closing the door as they left. Karl stood next to the bed and took Althea’s hand in his. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he stared down at Althea. For a long time, the Knight of Alcea stood frozen in place, his mind remembering all the times that he had pushed Althea away from him. The tears began to flow freely. He reached out with his free hand and gently caressed Althea’s cheek.

“Come back to me,” Karl sobbed softly. “Don’t leave me alone like this.”

Karl leaned over and kissed Althea’s forehead, his tears dripping onto her face. Suddenly, he felt her hand twitch, and he bolted upright. He glanced down and saw Althea’s eyes open.

“Karl?” Althea said weakly with a sense of wonder in her voice. “Is that really you? Are we finally together in death?”

“No,” Karl cried joyously. “We are finally together in life.”

Karl let go of Althea’s hand and wrapped his arms around her. He brought his lips down and kissed her passionately, unaware of the door opening and the four mages staring in disbelief.

THE END

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