In All of Infinity (20 page)

Windrew looked over his shoulder at Anekaya,
who nodded curtly. It was time for the truth to be revealed. They
only hoped it wasn’t too late.

***

The world around him was shutting down, but
he still managed to give orders. Thomas sat in his throne room,
holding his neck every few seconds, wishing he could have killed
Anekaya instead of believe she was dead. He had taken delight that
her boys were, until one of them wasn’t found among the dead. To
avoid thinking about it, he recalled the flames as they consumed
the sorceress’s mansion. Without a doubt, he was pleased by that,
but the escaped youngster always crawled back into his mind.

“We believe he was the younger,” one of his
advisors told him.

Thomas swallowed hard, felt the bandage on
his neck, and looked at the aged man with a raised eyebrow. He
didn’t care how old the brat was. He wanted his head on a silver
platter, so that he could put it on display for his parents. They
would come for him faster then, and he would end their lives. He
was dreadfully tired of being bored. They didn’t care, of course,
so he had sent them a present: three of his favorite dragons. Since
they were a present from the ruler of Idenia, he knew they would be
perfect to cause death and destruction. He was waiting on a death
toll any second, so that he could have something to report to his
beloved queen. She was angry with him now, but she wouldn’t be
after hearing the death toll.

“Nice to know, Kaien,” he said bitterly.

He heard the door open and watched as two of
his guards walk in without announcing themselves. He didn’t want to
be disturbed, and yet here they were, disobeying him. This
rebellious behavior was quite unlike them! As he was about to
question their actions, a small child walked through the throne
room doors. When he was in the light, Thomas recognized him as one
of his brother’s sons—the one who’d survived the attack.

Kevnar stood with his hands behind his back,
placing his feet together resolutely merely inches from the step up
to the throne, and turned towards the window. He raised his head,
letting the sun embrace his skin.

“Kill him!” Thomas demanded his guards. He
stood to his full height, pulling his sword from his sheath. “I
will then!”

“I don’t think you want to do that,” Kevnar
said, his voice hardly loud enough to hear. He turned to Thomas and
let his large blue eyes gaze into his enemy’s. “I think it best
that you put down your sword before someone gets hurt.”

Thomas realized he didn’t have power of his
hand as he dropped the sword and listened to its clang as it fell
to the floor. He sat down with his eyes still focused on the sword,
not understanding what was going on. Luella had never used such
power on him before, but this youngster could?

Kevnar approached, placed a hand on either
side of Thomas’s head and a thumb over his eyes. He closed his
large eyes and absorbed the evil in the half-demon’s mind,
devouring all the darkness he could find. When he pulled away,
Thomas was crying and held the boy to him, begging for forgiveness.
The advisor and guards came to the youngster and bowed down to him,
tears streaming down their face.

“I forgive you,” he assured them sweetly.
Kevnar pushed Thomas away gently after a moment, taking the bandage
off his neck. He was healed. “I forgive you, but there is something
you must do for me.” He leaned close and whispered in his new
friend’s ear. “Restore goodness to Peniolea.”

Thomas nodded and stood, letting Kevnar take
his throne and crown. The former king bowed low along with the
others, pledging their services to him until death came for them.
Without another word, Thomas stood and headed towards the exit,
ready to do what was needed to be done in order to restore goodness
to Peniolea and the Cathene Continent. He had never felt so sure of
anything in his life.

***

“So… let me get this
straight: the Black Moon takes place
tomorrow night
? I thought it wasn’t
for months!”

Since she could tell her husband was tired
of answering questions, Anekaya stepped in with a sigh to answer
Isaac’s questions. He was still adapting to the idea that Reverie
was gone, much less that the Black Moon was coming sooner than he’d
expected.

“Yes,” she said, resting her head on
Windrew’s shoulder since they were riding together. “It is to take
place tomorrow night.”

The reason was simple, at least to them: the
imbalance in the territory was too great, which made the universe
unstable. In order for the balance to return, someone of pure magic
(Reverie), dark magic (Luella), and neutral magic (Esme) had to
meet and state the imbalance. If they agreed and said the balance
was perfect, the Ancient Ones would leave for another half century.
When they came down this time, Windrew was sure that they would see
that Nadia was gone and choose someone else to become a Summoner.
The wizard was also sure that Luella would have Esme state that
there was no need for a Second Summoner, even if such was not the
case, and then Luella would kill her once the Ancient Ones
disappeared.

“This is too much to take in,” Isaac stated
as he rode alongside them. “Ok… so if Luella kills Esme, she
becomes the neutral balance, right? Who becomes the dark
balance?”

“She is still the dark balance, Isaac. She
is merely going to be disguised as neutral.”

“Can’t the universe sense that?” he furrowed
his brow. “The last I looked, dark magic is dark magic; good magic
is good magic; and neutral magic is neutral magic. I hate trying to
decipher these so-called “prophecies.” I mean, I’ve read the
books…”

“Neutral doesn’t
need
to exist,” Windrew
stated. “It only exists so that the Ancient Ones know they have an
ally when they return and don’t have to look for the signs
themselves.”

“They sound lazy to me,” Isaac said with a
sigh. He realized they were glaring at him, so he continued
rambling. “The good balance is going to be Reverie. I get that. I
do. The dark balance is going to be Luella. I get that. What I
don’t get is: how come the Ancient Ones, with all their powers,
can’t detect corruption?”

“It’s not that simple. I wish it were,”
Windrew said and stared at the road ahead. He remembered reading
about the Ancient Ones when he was a youngster, and felt the same
aggravation Isaac was feeling. “The Ancient Ones, before they
ascended to the stars, surrendered all of their powers so they
could have the ability to bestow powers.”

“That sounds simple,” Isaac stated.

“It’s not,” Windrew said and caught the
younger man’s gaze. “Trust me.”

“Well, my main concern is getting there
before tomorrow night. I have nothing against horses, don’t get me
wrong, but they aren’t the best way to travel right now. We can’t
cover the miles between here and Auzeil by tomorrow.”

“I’m working on that,” Otis said as he rode
up beside them. He was covered in soot and holding a strange round
whistle. “I’ve been working on this since I found out. I gathered
the materials when we took a break. They were all hard to find, but
Mona helped me out. She’s great, let me tell you.” He looked behind
him and saw her seated at the helm of one of the wagons.

“Just tell us if the whistle works, ok?”

Windrew was used to Otis rambling on,
especially about his being healed. He looked at Isaac’s ear, which
was beginning to scab, and wanted to heal his friend. Isaac
wouldn’t let him; he said he needed his pain. Otis was a nice man,
even though he’d been keeping to himself since Brornar passed on.
He felt guilty that he was spending some “alone time” with Mona
when his friend was poisoned. Even though they hadn’t known each
other long, friendships were easily made between allies in a time
of war.

Otis blew on the small round whistle, which
emitted a soft, almost whimsical sound. As soon as he’d blown on it
three times, they saw a herd of white horses with wings emerge from
the clouds ahead of them. They looked like clouds at first, but, as
they flew closer, the onlookers could tell they were horses.

“They’re beautiful,” Anekaya said
quietly.

“Yes. They are,” Windrew agreed.

They watched as the creatures landed, caught
up in the magnificence of their coats and brilliance of the single
spear in the middle of their foreheads. One of the unicorns, no
doubt the leader and most beautiful, stepped up and stared at them,
his twinkling brown eyes settling on Otis.

“How may we be of assistance?” The voice
seemed to come from the depths of the darkest cave and was enough
to make everyone shiver. He was a powerful force, no doubt, and
Otis’s dismount accentuated such authority.

Otis bowed low before the stallion over one
knee, spreading his arms into the sky behind him. Although Isaac
had often thought memorizing all the bows in the continent would
prove a waste of time, he knew for a fact, now more than ever, that
it didn’t. The cause needed all the help it could get.

Once the leader, Deleau, acknowledged Otis’s
loyalty, he allowed the young man to stand with a nod of his head.
They knew each other well, had actually met when he was a child.
Otis had always possessed the ability to call him and so had his
parents. They often thought it was a curse, however, because so
many used to detest them for having the ability to call animals.
The last battle had changed all of that and made Otis and his
parents more appreciated.

Although Deleau sensed many mortal eyes on
him, he didn’t need to address them. He wasn’t afraid of them. He
didn’t need to; he was immortal. With a brilliant bow, he made many
of them gasp in astonishment and, though he didn’t express it, he
was pleased by his admirer’s reactions.

“Deleau, we need your swiftest soldiers to
journey with us to Auzeil,” Otis answered once the stallion was
looking him in the eye. “I know it may come as an inconvenience,
since you were in a battle of your own the last I heard.”

As with all horses, the unicorns often had
to fight for territory. Deleau’s older brother, Zezaun, had been
attempting to take some of the mares away from the herd. Being the
leader, Deleau simply would not have that, and battled for
supremacy. Since hardly anyone ever defied him, he won easily only
a day after he began.

“The swiftest will be at your aid,” Deleau
said with another bow. He didn’t want to gloat about how little
time the battle had taken to end, since he was aware Otis wouldn’t
know. After all, he’d recently been faced with a situation of his
own. If he hadn’t been, Deleau would definitely have gloated, since
it was one of many things he often did. It wasn’t his fault he was
great.

“Thank you, kind king,” Otis said and
bowed.

Within the next few minutes, the small group
that had come with Deleau had riders and the stallion king was
calling for more. The sky was soon blanketed by horses that were
the same color as he was, all looking as if they’d been cut from
the clouds. As Deleau returned to the sky, Otis thanked him and
everyone watched until he disappeared.

“Alright. I believe it’s time to go,”
Windrew said at last. He looked at Otis and nodded curtly, then at
the soldiers around him who were seated on white unicorns. The
other horses had been set free, knowing where they needed to go. He
couldn’t believe that it was nearing the end of everything he’d
become so familiar with, but he also couldn’t be more relieved.
Looking at Anekaya, who sat upon her own steed, he realized that
she was thinking the same thing. They smiled thoughtfully at each
other; they were all the other had now.

As they rose into the sky, Windrew looked at
Isaac, who was too focused on finding Reverie that he didn’t go
through the same excitement as the other riders. While they whooped
all around him, he remained focused on the last image he had of
her, knowing why he had to keep his pain. Isaac knew he had to
remain alert, ready for anything, but there was a part of him that
felt torn. Even though he’d told himself she wasn’t the same
person, she was, and he was madly in love with her. In all of
infinity, surely that counted for something?

***

The darkest dreams flitted through Reverie’s
mind, almost as if they were starlings on a night of blistering
cold. They sought shelter in the corners of her mind, attempted to
slay the rhythm of her heart until it beat in a symphony of
monotones and passion existed no more. While the world around her
revolved in melancholy silence, she felt herself become overwhelmed
by the most macabre thoughts. She thought of death; destruction;
and chaos, almost to the point where she found herself fascinated
by them.

The bedroom where she lay was in the same
tower where Esme resided. As she walked in to visit her daughter,
who she hadn’t seen in almost eighteen years, she knew what she was
going to see. The rivulet of panic floating up her spine was as
cold as a winter brook, filled with nothing but ice and dead
things. She hoped her daughter would forgive her one day for doing
what she planning to do, but hope could only work so many
miracles.

Reverie was lying on a bed decked out in
deep scarlet linen, already dressed in the white gown for tomorrow
night’s ceremony. Her hands were beside her, with rings on all
fingers, and her hair had been cut short—all for the ritual. The
Ancient Ones had decided centuries ago that long hair was a mortal
desire, signifying elegance and arrogance, which were unnecessary
for someone who was essentially good or neutral. It was the same
reason Esme had let the servants of the prophecy cut her hair.