Wandering Lark (66 page)

Alaric awoke to white all around him
. So much white, he covered his eyes to keep from being blinded by it. His limbs felt stiff and unwieldy as though he had been tied down, but after a few minutes of wriggling various parts, he knew he was not bound.

He was, however, in a great deal of pain. It was though he had been torn apart and scattered about in pieces. His awareness had more than one dimension to it at the moment.

Cautiously, he lowered his arm, blinking at the brilliance which slowly began to fade.

At first, he thought he was still in the palace of white marble. But then it occurred to him that he was unable to make out the edges of anything around him. In fact, there were no edges. He was on a flat surface, but everything seemed hazy and unnatural.

Then he became aware that he was inside what looked half of a giant sphere. And the sparkling white that was around him stirred and shifted as a living thing. He blinked, sitting up in spite of the fact that his body ached and his head spun.

Where am I?
he thought.

“You are between,” a voice whispered, echoing all around him.

“Between what?” he muttered aloud, his voice echoing. “Vagner? Ronan?”

“They are in the Without,” the voice said more clearly. “For the Balance of all, this must be.”

“Who...are you?
Where
are you?”

The white stirred more, rising and undulating. And as Alaric’s eyes adjusted, he knew that what he was seeing was not lights or mist, but a dragon, immense and white, with eyes like opals. Only then did he realize he was not inside a sphere, but that his surrounding was the dragon itself. The creature was coiled in a circle and sheltering him under one of its wings, and the movement was its enormous head. It shifted to look straight at him.

“You do not know?” the dragon asked. “After all, you did try to kill me.” There was a hint of amusement in those words.

“Master Fion?” Alaric said.

“Fionasidhe,” the dragon said. “Fion is but one of the guises I wear to walk among my children. I have many names to many people. The White One. The Dragon of Light. Mother of the World. I am She Who Sit at the Center of All Things. She who keeps the darkness of the Na’Sgailean at bay, for I am the Guardian of the Balance of All Things.”

“Fionasidhe,” Alaric said. That was the name Ronan mentioned when they were in the Shadow Vale.

“You say it so prettily,” the dragon said, and something akin to a smile greeted his gaze.
Dragon smiles,
he thought,
are even toothier than those of demons.
She drew back and as Alaric watched, she shifted and reshaped herself like a mist. Where the dragon had been, there now stood a woman tall as a tree, lithe as a sylph and white as winter. Her clothing fluttered in a breeze that he could not feel. The cloak folded and unfolded around her like wings. Her hair was so long, it was hard to say where it ended and fabric began. Her skin had the look of diamond dust, and she still had those opal eyes. Around her neck, he saw the dragon torc, and in her hand, a set of scales from which two globes descended; one white as the moon, the other black as pitch. In fact, that and his clothes and skin were about the only things of color here.

“Uh...am I dead?” Alaric asked.

“No,” she said and shook her head. “Not yet.”

Alaric frowned. “Not yet? But I will be?”

“That will depend,” she said.

“On what?”

“On what choice you make,” she said.

“You know, I really hate it when people talk in riddles, but I think I am beginning to understand why the folk of Taneslaw speak that way.”

“Ah, the wit of bards...Ronan Tey had it, they say.”

Alaric frowned. “You knew Ronan Tey...”

“I know all who live in the world in one fashion or another,” she said. “You forget who I am, little bardling.”

“Then...if you are the goddess who made this world, can you help me?”

“Help you? In what way?”

“I came here to rid myself of a demon’s mark,” Alaric said and showed her his right hand.

She shifted slightly and seated herself so she was on eye level with him. Now he could see that she was not alone. Behind her stood the white demon Sedar, looking extremely male and hostile. The sight of the creature, Alaric hitched back.

“You have nothing to fear from Sedar now,” Fionasidhe said. “That which you have carried against your will is in the Without at this moment.”

“That which I have carried. The demon’s mark? Or Ronan Tey?”

She moved her hands just slightly, and Alaric felt impelled to look behind him. Two spheres sat on the ground. Inside one, Vagner crouched looking uncertain. Within the other was Ronan Tey. At least, it looked like Ronan Tey. Alaric crawled to his feet and walked over to the sphere, staring at the bard whose shape wavered from the familiar form he had always known to something that looked very much like Sedar.

“Ronan?” Alaric said.

“He is not Ronan,” Fionasidhe said.

“What?”

“His name is Je’Rhel, and he was my first...”

“Alaric, don’t listen to her,” Ronan said, putting hands to the surface of the sphere. “Help me get out of here. Please. She will kill me if you don’t...”

Alaric backed away. “But you tried to kill her,” he said. “You...pulled a dagger out of my chest and tried to stab her... I know of no spell that gives one such power...”

“That is because the spell is not one for teaching,” Vagner said. The demon stood up and glared at Ronan. “That is a spell that is particular to demonkind...”

“Shut up you stupid...” Ronan snarled and hissed Vagner’s True Name, but nothing happened. Vagner smiled grimly and tapped the sphere in which he was imprisoned.

“Demonkind?” Alaric stared at Ronan. “You... You’re a demon?”

Ronan’s features fell away, and what remained was a beautiful eldritch creature, tall and white with the bluest of eyes. “Yes, Lark, I am a demon...”

“But...I don’t understand.” Alaric turned and looked at the Fionasidhe. “Why?”

She shifted back into dragon form, smaller than before, and walked over to rear over Alaric. Lying down, she offered her claw as a chair. He seated himself there, uncertain.

“In the beginning, I created demons such as Je’Rhel. He was the first I made to serve me, and he was my most favorite one. But when the last Darkening came, he did not what I told him. He took it upon himself to sunder the flesh of the Shadow Lord who was my sister’s Champion of Shadows, and banished his spirit into the realms of Annwn...”

Alaric frowned. “Arawn? The god of death and destruction...he was the Champion of Shadows? A Shadow Lord.”

Fionasidhe nodded her massive head. “And the sundering of his flesh threw the Balance off. Je’Rhel knew this when he hid the Dragon’s Tongue. He was only supposed to stop Arawn, not slay his flesh. And so to preserve the Balance of All Things, I was forced to sunder his flesh. I placed him in the Soul Stone that my son the Lord of Stone made, and I left him in the care of the Hidden Folk, for I knew of all the Children of the World, they were the most distrustful of men and would never allow any near the stone. Alas, a bard by the name of Ronan Tey went to the Hidden Folk and traded songs with them. And he stole the Soul Stone and sought to unlock the secret song that held Je’Rhel within. His folly cost him his life, for his essence was consumed by Je’Rhel who took the bard’s flesh for his own...

“Of course, he had to flee, for the moment I learned that he was free, I sent my children to find him. But he escaped and vanished into the realm of your people and hid himself as one of flesh and blood, never staying in one place, rarely using his demon magic, always evading me. I have waited so long, for I knew that one day, he would come back to seek his revenge. But once more, he has deceived. He has revealed things before their proper time. He has taken new flesh against its will, so once more he has thrown the Balance off.

“And now, Alaric of the Braidwines, Wandering Lark, it is time for you to choose.”

“Choose?” Alaric slipped off the dragon’s claw and backed between the spheres.”

“The knowledge that Je’Rhel kept cannot be allowed to die. That is why I put him in the Soul Stone and set the Dragon’s Tongue Key on his skin. For the Balance to stand, you must choose the demon to which you will remain bound.”

“What?” Alaric glared at the dragon. “I have to stay bound to a demon?”

“The demon-bound will be one of the keys that the Champion of Light must gather when the next Darkening comes,” Fionaside said. “You will be the demon-bound, but you must choose which demon to which you will remain tied. The other, I will sever the bond and send into the Void...”

Alaric looked from one to the other. “But you’re asking me if I want to be master of a demon or slave to a demon. What sort of choice is that?”

“One only you can make.”

“And if I do not wish to make that choice?” Alaric asked. “If I want to be free of both demons?”

The dragon sighed. “Because of the Balance, I cannot force you to make any choice at all,” she said. “But for the sake of the world, I must beg you to make one.”

“But...you’re a goddess. Why can’t you make things right? All I ever wanted was to be free of Ronan
and
Vagner, and I don’t see how I can be of any use to you...”

“You are a bard and you are mageborn,” she said. “You now possess the Key, and you are a keeper of knowledge by your own rights. I must have one who can keep the knowledge Je’Rhel has buried within you. If not you, it will have be Je’Rhel...”

“I am not giving him my body!” Alaric said.

The dragon’s eyes grew luminous. “Then you must make a choice, or Je’Rhel will make it for you—just as he did when you believed him to be Ronan Tey.

“And you can do nothing?” Alaric asked. “What kind of a deity are you that you cannot choose what is right for the world? Why lay this one me?”

“Because the choice has never been mine to make. It is yours and yours alone. I maintain the Balance as I have done since time began, but only you and your kind have the power to sway it for good or evil. The circle of time is about to turn as it has done every seven hundred years. Would you rather live in the shadows? Or would you prefer to live in the light?

“I would rather live in the light,” Alaric said.

“Then you must choose,” she said softly. “Which shall it be?”

Alaric took a deep breath. “I would rather be master of a good demon than slave to an evil one...”

“So be it,” she said and started to raise her claw.

“Wait!” Alaric threw up his hands. “What about my friends? I cannot save them if I am still wearing the demon’s mark.”

The White Dragon angled her head. She then looked at Je’Rhel and Vagner and took a deep breath. The wind of her warm breath listed Alaric’s hair.

“If you would rid yourself of that mark, then you must fight for what is yours,” she said. “You must battle with the one you once called Ronan Tey for the right to keep your own flesh free of that mark, and there is nothing I can do...”

“Fight?” Alaric turned and looked at Je’Rhel. The demon’s eyes glittered as though he knew he had already won. “Him?”

“Yes,” the dragon said. “The choice is yours.”

“What kind of a choice is that?”

“It is the only choice you have if you wish to live in the light,” the dragon said. “What say you, Alaric Braidwine?”

Alaric took a deep breath. “I choose to live,” he said.

She put one claw to his chest. Before Alaric could draw away, he felt a sifting, as though his essence was being drawn from his flesh. His body collapsed to the ground, and his essence was set on some sort of platform of light around which darkness swirled. Then the dragon reached into the sphere containing Je’Rhel and drew him out, lowering him to the platform as well.

“What just happened?” Alaric asked.

Je’Rhel merely smiled. “You and I have just been placed on the field of battle,” he said. “We stand in a circle on the edge of oblivion. And only one of us will return to your flesh.”

With that, the demon sprang at Alaric.

His first instinct was to drop. His second was to call a lighting bolt to strike at Je’Rhel, but the demon dodged and laughed.