She took a deep breath and put aside her doubts. She couldn’t quit now. She wouldn’t. If she were to do so, she would never recover from the sense of failure she would have to live with.
But what was she to do now? Where was she to go?
She returned through the passageways of Cleeg Hold to where Tavo lay and knelt beside him. The storm had passed now, leaving behind remnants of damp, chilly air, rain-slickened stone, and distant rumbles of thunder. For a long time, she didn’t move or even look up at the skies as the clouds separated and marched on in solitary splendor to reveal broad swatches of blue. Sunshine brightened the world anew.
It was then Tarsha made her decision. She needed to find out what had happened to Drisker. If he was still alive, she must find a way to make contact with him. She had done so before—or, more accurately, he had contacted her. Dreams and visions were a means of communication for Druids removed to other places, so perhaps it would be so here. In the alternative, she must find a magic that would reveal the truth about his fate.
Such capabilities were beyond her, but help might be found in Drisker’s books of magic—the ones he had retrieved from the ill-fated forest imp, Flinc. She had saved the books from the fire that had destroyed his home, only to have Flinc pretend that he was the one who had saved them. Drisker had discovered the truth, of course, and then had hidden the books again. As yet, even Clizia had been unable to find them, but Tarsha thought she knew where they were and how they could be retrieved. If she was right, she would have a chance to study them and perhaps learn what she needed to know about Drisker and what her own future required of her.
First, though, she must return to Emberen to discover if she was right.
She broke from her reverie, retrieved a blanket from the airship, wrapped it about her brother, and secured it tightly with ropes she retrieved from a storage bin. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she dragged his body to the craft, lifted it over her shoulders to carry up the short ladder, and laid it inside on the floor. It was the best she could do for now. When she reached Emberen, she would bury her brother there. There was nowhere else she could think to take him. He no longer had a home in Backing Fell, and it saddened her to think of how uprooted and isolated he had made himself, how devoid of family and home he had been when he died alone in this far-off place in the deep Westland. She decided that if he belonged anywhere, it was in Emberen, near the home of the man who had done the most to help him.
It was where Tarsha would hope to end her days, as well, as it was now her only home, too.
She knew she should sleep before departing. She was already exhausted from the day’s struggles and nightfall was coming on, the skies east already darkening. But she could not bear to spend another moment in this place. She could at least fly to somewhere less forbidding before stopping for the night and giving herself over to sleep.
Taking a quick look around at the peaks of the Rock Spur and the site of her brother’s last moments—thinking of how it might have been Drisker’s final moments, as well—she climbed into the airship, powered up the diapson crystals nestled within the confines of their parse tubes, and lifted off into the widening blue of the late-afternoon skies.
* * *
—
She flew out of the Rock Spur and into the foothills that formed the western border of Elven country. Finding a sheltered spot along the Mermidon, she set down, wrapped herself in blankets in the cockpit, and promptly fell asleep. Had she been less tired or more concerned for her safety, she might have taken better precautions against unwelcome intrusion or threats of attack, but by then her exhaustion was complete, her need for rest pressing down on her like a great weight and her ability to think impeded.
Thus she slept without thoughts of safety or care for her fate, and dreamed of Parlindru.
The seer appeared to her as a shade, a ghost, as she stepped from heavy gloom to greet Tarsha with a smile. Her features were clear and so familiar that Tarsha found herself smiling back, but the rest of her was not much more than a gathering of mist and shadows, shifting endlessly as she approached.
You have suffered much, Tarsha Kaynin, Parlindru said, speaking the words so that they were no more than thoughts in the girl’s mind. I am sorry. But life deals out unexpected joys and sorrows, and we can but treasure or suffer each. A word, then—after which I will go. You have found my prophecy to be true, have you not?
Tarsha nodded.
Do you remember the rule of three? Do you remember what I told you about how it would affect your life?
Tarsha nodded again. In her mind, she spoke her answer. Three times shall I love and all three shall be true, but only one will endure. Three times shall I die but each death shall see me rise anew. Three times shall I have a chance to make a difference in the lives of others and three times shall I do so. But one time only shall I change the world.
Some of these prophecies have happened. Some have not. Your tale is not ended, and your life is not complete. All of us live under the promises offered by the rule of three. For you, some of this is now evident, but some has yet to be revealed. For that to happen, much will be asked of you. Some of this, you already know. The rest will reveal itself in time. But this much I can tell you. You may not turn aside. You may not forsake what you have been given to do.
How will I know what that is? How can I be certain?
The old woman changed suddenly to one much younger, but clearly the same. Your heart will whisper to you. Your conscience will guide you. Your truth will reveal itself.
She slowly reverted again, the age lines and depressions returning, the course of her life revealing itself on her face.
I am so tired, Tarsha confessed.
So you must rest both mind and body before continuing on.
But I don’t know if that will be enough. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost the people I care about. I’ve lost the path I thought I knew. I’ve lost the will to do what I think is expected of me. I am broken, Parlindru. I am weak and unsure and lacking.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she broke down in tears, ashamed and at the same time relieved to have shared her terrible sense of failure. Without moving, Parlindru seemed to reach out and stroke her cheek.
All these will come back to you, Tarsha, so long as you do not lose your faith. Hold it close. Believe in its power.
She withdrew her hand, whispered farewell, and was gone.
Whereupon Tarsha Kaynin woke to find herself alone.
THREE
It took Tarsha another two days of hard traveling to cross east out of the foothills below the Rock Spur Mountains to the Tirfing grasslands, then turn north along the edges of Drey Wood and the Streleheim past the Rhenn and up to where the village of Emberen could be found, nestled in the Elven forests miles above the city of Arborlon. Any weather that might have required a longer journey had moved off into the Borderlands and eventually south into the Anar. So the days were sunny, the skies clear, and flying smooth and uneventful.