Chapter 23: The Secret of the Mists

On a day like diamonds, when the Sea of Peace glowed like the Jewels of Joy, Melchizedek helped little Jenna onto Cloud Dancer's back. There was no lack of enthusiasm in this quester! If her eyes didn't shine as brightly as stars, there are simply no stars that shine. Jenna was vibrating with excitement; today she was going to fly!

"Remember the signs, small one," said the knight, mustering as much gravity as he could manage, for he felt he must counteract the child's buoyancy to make her hear. "The sign of your guide is the Dove of Loridan, follow Him - wherever He leads. He may lead you through frightening places, you will then be tempted, for the first time in your memory, to go your own way: don't."

Jenna nodded eagerly.

"The second sign is the sign of your destination. Find the Song of Loridan; for you will hear it issuing from the passage you must enter. Once you are in the passage, remember what Aralia of Wisdom told you: the narrowest way and the hardest is the path you must always take."

Jenna bounced up and down, "Oh, yes, don't worry. The hardest things are the most fun, Melchizedek."

Despite himself, the knight smiled, but again became grave, "Finally, remember the third sign, it is the sign of your quest. To the creature that has the single silver star upon his chest, give the flowers of the King's Heart. Do not fear him, for he is the one you seek. Only the blood red flowers of the King's Heart can free him from his prison."

"Oh, I know, I know, Melchizedek. Please, please, can I go now, please?"

Melchizedek sighed, "Jenna, for my sake, repeat the signs to me."

She did so, at about three hundred miles per hour, but correctly.

"That's fine, little princess, but now - what two other things have I told you to remember?"

Jenna looked as if she thought the question an unfair thing. She knit her brows in puzzlement, "Two things?"

"Jenna, you must remember; you won't..."

"...HAVE CHERION WITH ME!" She screamed out, completing the thought with excitement, before Melchizedek could say 'have'. "And so I mustn't try to have an accident." Her eyes glowed, if possible, even more brightly.

Melchizedek nodded AND smiled, "That's correct."

"Can I go? Can I go?"

Melchizedek laughed, "How could I possibly delay you any longer?"

"Oh, yes! Thank you." She bounced in the saddle, "Let's go Cloud!"

Cloud Dancer looked at her Master, who nodded at her. Then lifting her head, she neighed like thunder - at which Jenna squealed with joy. And then Cloud Dancer launched herself off the high peaks of the Mountains of Wisdom and sailed like a superb black swan, soaring upon the winds of the North.

Melchizedek drew his sword and dagger from their sheaths and ran the dagger along the length of the magnificent blade. A beautiful bell-like sound filled the mountain air. Exactly like a flash of lighting falling from cloudless heavens, the beautiful Dove of Loridan streaked out of the Promise Sky towards Jenna and Cloud. Moments later, the three were winging their way towards the mysterious lands of mists, beyond the northern fringe of Loridan.

~ ~ ~

"I think we've got to leave right away, Abba," Maric said, with deep concern. "We can't wait, not a day, not an hour."

"Swift action isn't usually wise action, son," Jessef said quietly.

"But if he's dying..."

"If he was dying when Caylene saw what she saw, then he's likely already dead," said Jessef flatly. "However, if this is a warning from the Creator then it will not be a warning in vain. We've been told what we needed to be told in the proper time."

"What do you mean, Abba?" Caylene asked in puzzlement.

"I mean, child, that the Creator may have shown you things which haven't happened yet." He looked at her and saw that her eyes withdrew at the words. She was plainly sceptical. "He does do such things, Caylene. My wife often saw things which hadn't yet happened."

Every head in the room looked at him with renewed attention. It was so rare for Jessef to pass a comment about Nalitha. Under the combined attention of the whole group, Jessef lowered his eyes momentarily. Something urged him to share what he had dreamt. "I think I've been seeing things too, Caylene."

The young girl was listening intently. 'Tell her,' a voice urged. 'Tell her all.' Jessef looked up at the young lady. 'I can't,' he argued inwardly. 'You must,' the voice prompted, with the edge of a command. He looked around at the group of people: Maric, Yason, Regine, Chion and Caylene. Jessef knew he trusted them all, loved them - even the young lady who had, for the briefest moment, once made him think of his lost wife.

"I saw the winged-horse, Sky-rider, before he came to us."

Everyone looked startled and amazed; Caylene's head was canted to one side and Maric stared with his mouth open. Jessef was not given to flights of imagination and fancy.

He sighed, _

"I had a dream, I don't know how many nights before Jaomin returned home. And I saw Nalitha, your mother, my sons, as plainly as...as I see any of you now. It was just as real seeming. She was sitting beside a beautiful lake, and then this magnificent horse with wings landed beside her. I remember that she acted as if his coming was completely expected, as if she knew he was coming. Then she turned and looked right at me..." _

Jessef's voice broke and he looked down at the floor. He struggled on, speaking in a husky whisper, "She only said one word. She said, 'Soon'."

Yason, seeing his father so overwrought, quietly interrupted. "Abba, if you'd rather not..."

"No, son, it's fine. I should have told all of this to you before. Somehow I didn't trust what I'd seen. It seemed too good. Then when Sky came and Caylene..." he looked at the girl, realizing that no one but he would understand the connection. "For just one moment, child, when I first saw you, I thought you were Nalitha. I think the dream was meant to tell me of your coming. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Caylene, but I'm sure you're part of what the Creator sent to us in our time of need," he broke off.

Caylene blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

Regine interposed, "There's a passage I want to read to all of you. I was praying for Jaomin last night, and I remembered part of this prophecy. This morning I looked it up. It goes like this:"

My righteous child shall not be burned, though he walks through fire;

Though nations fall in flame, he will not be consumed.

The smell of fire will not come upon him,

Only his bonds will fall from his arms,

And he shall walk in freedom.

His enemies shall fall like wheat at harvest,

His arms I will lift in victory."

As Regine read the passage, Caylene's face changed colour. When the young mother finished reading, Caylene burst out: "Did you...how did you know that?"

"Pardon?" said Regine.

Caylene excitedly told them how Jaomin had read her that passage before Sky had even shown up and how the Runes had flipped open to the page containing that prophecy on the afternoon that Jaomin flew away.

"And I will draw the weaving of my thread through the hearts of my children. I will make a tapestry of my truth from the testimony of their lips." Yason quoted from the Wisdom of the King.

Maric smiled and shook his head, "Little brother Jaomin. Who'd have thought?"

Abba slapped his hand down on this knee, "First thing tomorrow, boys, Rested and provisioned, I want both of you to go after your brother. Ride straight to the Western Hills, because that's where Jaomin was going to ride. Don't stop for man or maid, but go direct."

"Yes, Father." Yason said.

Maric sat quietly nodding his head.

~ ~ ~

With his banners boldly hung out and his men gathered to arms, King Akinwrath rode to the western verge of the forest, which lay just at the foot of the Western Hills. Although Jaomin had been breathless and imprecise the alarm had been raised. Akinwrath understood that the approaching army must have at least seven or eight times their numbers.

After ten minutes of careful riding through the undergrowth, the remnants of King Akinwrath's army emerged into the sunshine beyond the forest. At first they could see nothing, but after the captains had stilled the men, they could certainly hear something. A great host, judging by the hoof beats, was approaching from the west and south. Quickly putting their horses to the spur, Akinwrath and his men skirted the forest in a southerly direction. Three minutes later, with the forest at their back, they could see an enormous host of men, now coming from due west.

Akinwrath told Captains Waller and Bindaved to have the archers conceal themselves within the lower edge of the forest and to array the men of horse below the verge. The approaching host had not the look of hostility about them, but he would take no chances.

It was obvious that the officers of the advancing army had seen the men of Grenwilde, for the vanguard swung slightly to the North making directly for them. At about seventy-five yards distance the line of men halted. Two minutes later and a tiny knot of men, riding beneath a streaming golden banner came towards them.

Although Akinwrath could only imperfectly make out the device, he knew heraldry well enough to realize this was the ensign of Virikria. Hope stirred within his heart. These people had never been enemies of West Grenwilde, only had they held themselves aloof from involvement in her affairs.

Seeing that his two captains were still busy bringing the troops into alignment, Akinwrath summoned his young lieutenant, "Lieutenant Philomen, you and four of your men will accompany me. These foreigners would have some words with us."

"Yes, My King."

A few moments later, the small delegation of Grenwildians rode slowly to where the Prince of Virikria stood waiting. The man at the centre of the group had a coronet fitted to his helm, and Akinwrath knew this must be their ruler, Anakara. He had met the father once, years ago, when visiting Virikria. Akinwrath had been a prince then, during the last years of his own father's reign.

Akinwrath halted some five yards from the prince. "If you come to our lands in peace, Prince Anakara, then we bid welcome to the shining armies of Virikria."

"In peace to Grenwilde, King Akinwrath, we come, but with war in our hearts towards your enemies," the prince responded.

Akinwrath smiled, "These tidings are joy to us, and misery to our enemies, noble Prince. Philomen, go and stir the hearts of the men to raise a cheer for the Prince of Virikria and his mighty men."

A few minutes later, the mighty army of Virikria was following the beleaguered troops of Grenwilde back to the glade in which the latter had been encamped. With their swollen numbers, it would now be necessary to move, Akinwrath mused. As they made their progress, Prince Anakara made note of the winged horse and its rider. The rider's face, no less than the horse, made the prince smile with pleasure.

~ ~ ~

Crickets are the sound of peace. They are a small suggestion made by the insect world to the troubled world of men. If we would listen more closely, wars might cease and people might take up fiddling and dancing instead.

Jessef stood in the fields beneath the beautiful early summer moon, watching the heads of wheat beginning to poke their way up through the earth. His enemies shall fall like wheat at harvest. Jessef thought of his son. Should it surprise me, Creator? I always thought his mother dropped out of the sky.

He took the pendant in his hand and stared at it. He knew why this carving was important to him; why had it been this important to her? He wondered. Lifting it over his head he stood examining it under the preternaturally bright moon.

"Abba?" came a soft voice.

"Oh, Caylene, you startled me," he smiled at her. "I was just thinking about the family discussion we had today."

She nodded. "I've been thinking about it too. I didn't know things like that could happen. God just ...dropping... ideas into people's heads, connecting them, like that."

"Nalitha was the one that taught me about all that sort of thing, Caylene. Oh, I've always believed in God, prayed to him and so forth. But I didn't know he would be willing to answer me back. If I hadn't met Nalitha I probably never would have known." Strange, Jessef thought, that he found it so easy to talk to this relative stranger about the things most precious to his heart.

"What was she like, Abba?"

He smiled raised his eye-brows and shook his head, "How do you describe Nalitha? She..." he laughed, "She was like mountain air, I think: rare and refreshing. She was wise, innocent, clever and beautiful."

Caylene listened, "You must have loved her very much."

He nodded minutely. "She made this," he said showing her the pendant.

"Can I hold it?"

"Of course," Jessef said handing it to her carefully.

Caylene looked at the curious symbols, so simply carved. "It's very pretty." She passed it back, before speaking again. "Abba, what did she look like?"

"Well, if you want to see her eyes. Look at Jaomin. All the boys, 'cept Ganarth, have her eyes, but Jao has 'em most direct. No question."

"I thought so. Did she have long black hair, real flowing hair?"

"Yes," Jessef said slowly, frowning slightly. "Why?"

Caylene felt a mild reluctance to answer, but knew she must. "I saw her in the crystal too."

Jessef stared at her; he didn't know what to say. "Are you sure?"

"The eyes were exactly like Jaomin's."

The old man turned away and looked towards the hills. He didn't speak for some seconds. "How old did she look, child?"

"Well, sir, I would have thought she looked about twenty or twenty-five."

He nodded. She never had aged a day in all the time he'd known her. "Did you...did you have any impression of where she was or what she was doing."

"Not really. It was strange and foggy. She was on a hill, though. I could see that."

He looked very sad.

"If I see more, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," he said.

Caylene paused for a moment and then broached the subject that had been on her mind. "Abba, could I go with Maric and Yason?"

He didn _

't answer right away and the young lady stood there biting her lip nervously awaiting his reply. She didn't need to ask, of course; she came on her own and could go where she pleased. That she was asking at all touched Jessef's heart; she needed a parent. Look at the way, almost unconsciously, she'd taken to calling him 'Abba'. Regine had told Jessef what her real parents had been like.

"It might be very dangerous, Caylene."

"I know. Staying here might be dangerous too."

He laughed. "You're right, child. There's no safety now. Not anywhere. But why do you want to go?"

"Well, it was me that...saw the vision, or whatever it was," she stumbled a bit. All of this was very new to her. "I don't know but I thought maybe I should bring the image crystal and go with them. Maybe the...Creator...would show me something else that could help Maric and Yason."

Jessef stood in silence for a long time. He thought of Jaomin and realized that the Creator, for reasons known only to Himself, had brought his son, this girl, Sky, the sword and the crystal together.

"Caylene, I think you should go. And I think you should take this."

It was almost entirely on impulse. But he found himself giving her Nalitha's pendant. Why, he wasn't sure, but somehow it seemed part of the ... weaving.

"But, Abba, this is so important to you," she said amazed.

He looked at her very kindly, "And so are you, child. Go; see to this scatter-brained son of mine. Look after him, do you hear?"

She positively beamed at him, "Thank you!" she said, and gave him a quick hug. "I guess I better get to bed if I'm going with them in the morning."

"Yes, I think you should."

Many minutes later, Jessef was still standing under the strangely beautiful moon. He was alone again and thinking of Nalitha, still a young woman, and he an old man. But, somehow, he felt peace. The crickets continued to play as Jessef smoked his pipe and then headed back to the house.

~ ~ ~

Targa Gamarad did not understand the command, but he didn't dare to question the word of the vulgrath. He must immediately withdraw from the Tower of Grenwilde and take the Horde - what was left of it - back to the Lands of Desolation.

Although the toad was puzzled he was actually relieved on two accounts. First, given the magnitude of the disaster, he had been certain that Lord Nihilos would kill him. He still might, of course, but the order at least represented a respite. Secondly, the desigarg had shown a great deal of reluctance to venture outside of the Tower of Grenwilde in the last week, ever since the terror of the sword had come upon them. At the current moment, they would likely welcome an order to return to their barren homeland. He had lost the use of his principal lieutenant officer, for Captain Diserac had been killed on the night of the debacle. Without him he didn't want to try to launch another attack.

The toad scanned the ceiling of the retiring room for the last time. Oh well, Gamarad thought, he could have conquered all of Grenwilde if he'd been left free to do so. But he knew that the Dark Lord didn't care about the conquest, and had actually never pursued it as his aim. What was his aim now? Gamarad could not help wondering.

~ ~ ~

Jenna could see the Dove of Loridan winging his way ahead of her through the thickening mists. She would follow him wherever he led and no doubt about it, but it was getting cold and where was the sky? She could see no rainbow colours, only a vast seamless grey.

She wished she was under the sky of Loridan, for that was...she didn't complete the thought. For suddenly, the sky was a multi-coloured marvel. Jenna opened her mouth. The mist was nowhere to be seen; below her lay the unmistakable green expanse of the fields of Loridan, just as it had looked when Cherion whisked her away to meet Melchizedek. What had happened?

She flicked her eyes forward. In front of her - still beating his wings steadily - the Dove was winging his way as straight as an arrow.

Jenna frowned. She found this confusing. Wasn't the Dove supposed to be leading her through the lands of mist? Why were they back in Loridan? Had he made a mistake and was he going the wrong way? As she thought about it, and focused on the Dove in front of her, the world around seemed to melt. Within seconds she was again flying through endless banks of cold mist.

"Ooh! Strange stuff!" Jenna chirped. "I like it. I wish Meda was with me!"

Suddenly, in the mists ahead, a mountain peak appeared. There, as clear and sharp as though cut with a knife, was the Knight of the Healing Hands. Her dark hair and red cape hanging down from her powerful and graceful form.

"Meda!" Jenna screamed and was about to pull Cloud Dancer towards her favourite person, when she remembered she had promised to always follow the Dove. Was he going to turn aside towards the knight?

She looked ahead; the Dove still held on his course. Was it that he didn't see what Jenna saw? "Dove," Jenna said, "Did you see Meda?" Jenna was always direct. But no sooner had she asked the question, than the knight melted into the mists. And the Dove as constant as a heart beat, continued his way through the void.

Now Jenna was really puzzled. What did it all mean? No doubt to one impassively watching what was happening to Jenna, the whole thing was clear enough. For whatever strange reason, the mists of the unformed worlds took the shape of whatever the mind observing them desired. And so it was. Therein lay their danger and their beauty. But had you been in Jenna's place, the matter would not have been so clear - I believe.

This much she understood: the only thing that remained unchanging in this world was the Dove. And so she realized why it would be very difficult for anyone to get anywhere in this land. Nothing seemed to stay where it was put or to be what it was. She was very glad for the Dove and was sure that she hadn't actually seen Loridan or Meda.

For the first time she wished her journey complete and a second later a great bank of mountains appeared in the near distance, and from their base the strains of the Song of Loridan drifted up to her.

"Oh, yes! I'm there!" Jenna thought. She was about to steer Cloud Dancer downwards, but looking forward she saw the Dove continuing straight as before. "Hey, Dove," she called, "The place we want is below. Melchizedek said that...are you listening?"

But as she spoke to the Dove and focused on him, the mountains disintegrated back into mist.

Jenna looked at the Dove closely. And the light began to break upon her mind. She saw it then, the world was what she wished it to be! That was exciting. A sudden and very exciting thought came to her. Couldn't she wish for wings here and have them? A trembling came across her.

But suddenly, and without her wishing for it, she saw the eyes of Majesty looking at her. If you have never seen those eyes you must take it on trust that they drive every thought from the mind, like winds blow away mist.

"Joy!" she cried aloud. Often had she sat on his lap and seen his eyes, kind with the fulfilment of all promise, looking down at her just like this. Beneath his gaze, she smiled. What had she been thinking? Oh, yes, she was following the Dove. She was doing what made her happiest of all: what King Joy wanted her to do. For in her tiny soul, knit forever together in a sacred agreement, duty and desire held hands and walked quietly and smilingly together.

~ ~ ~

The Death Nygrath stood beneath the shadow of the Great Wall of pride. The shadow across his face lay also in his soul: this heap of stones was a witness against man. It was the very symbol of his betrayal. He, the rightful king had been wrongfully sold. They would all bleed for it.