The Second Generation

No, she would tell him tonight, she decided firmly. Then, stopping to lean against a tree and catch her breath, she closed her eyes.

And after you’ve told—then what?

“I don’t know . ..” she murmured to herself brokenly. “The gods help me. I don’t know!”

So lost in her fear and inner turmoil was Amberyl that, for a moment, she did not notice that the snow had suddenly ceased falling, the cutting, biting wind had lessened. When she became aware of the fact, she looked around.

There were stars, she saw, and even moonlight! Solinari shone brightly, turning the snow silver and the white-covered woods into a wondrous realm of the most fantastic beauty.

The woods.... She had crossed the boundary. Amberyl laid her hand gently upon the trunk of the tree against which she leaned. She could feel the life pulsing in the bark, the magic pulsing within that life.

She was in the magical Forest of Wayreth. Though the blizzard might rage unabated not one foot away from her, here, within the shelter of these trees, it could be summer if the wizards commanded it. But it wasn’t. The wind, though it had ceased its inhuman howl, still bit the flesh with teeth of ice. The snow was piled thigh-deep in places. But at least the storm was not permitted to vent its full fury inside the forest. Amberyl could see now quite clearly. Solinari’s light against the snow was bright as the sun. No longer was she stumbling in the dark, led on only by the burning remembrance of the mage’s golden eyes, his touch....

Sighing, Amberyl walked on until she found tracks in the snow. It was the humans. Yes, her instincts had led her unerringly. Not that she had ever doubted her powers. But would they hold true in this forest? Ever since she had come to this land, she had been hearing tales about the strange and magical wood.

Pausing, Amberyl examined the tracks, and her fear grew. There were two sets—one pair of footprints that went through the deepest drifts without stopping. The other, however, was a wide swath cut through the snow, the swath left by a man floundering along in heavy, wet robes. In more than one place, she could see quite clearly the marks of hands, as though the mage had fallen. Her heart began to beat painfully when she saw that one set of tracks—the mage’s—had come to an end. His brother must be carrying him!

Perhaps he... perhaps he was...

No! Amberyl caught her breath, shaking her head. The mage might be frail-looking, but there was a strength in him greater than the finest steel blade ever forged. All this meant was that the two must stop and find shelter, and that would work to her advantage.

It wasn’t long before she heard voices.

Dodging behind a tree, keeping within its moon-cast shadow, Amberyl saw a tiny bit of light streaming outside what must be a cave in the side of a cliff, a cliff that had apparently appeared out of nowhere, for she could have sworn she had not seen it ahead of her.

“Of course,” she whispered to herself in thankfulness, “the wizards will take care of one of their own. Do they know I am here?” she wondered suddenly. “Would they recognize me? Perhaps not. It has been so long, after all”

Well, it did not matter. There was little they could do. Hope fully, they would not interfere.

“I’ve got to get help, Raist!” she heard the big warrior saying as she drew near. Caramon’s voice sounded tense and anguished. “You’ve never been this bad! Never!”

There was silence, then Caramon’s voice rose again in answer to words Amberyl could not hear.

“I don’t know! Back to the inn if I have to! All I know is that this firewood isn’t going to last until morning. You yourself tell me not to cut the trees in this forest, and they’re wet anyway. It’s stopped snowing. I’ll only be gone a few hours at most. You’ll be safe here. Probably a lot safer in these accursed woods than I will.” A pause, then. “No, Raist. This time I’m doing what I think best!”

In her mind, Amberyl could almost hear the mage’s bitter curse, and she smiled to herself. The light from the cave was obliterated for an instant by a dark shadow—Caramon coming out. It hesitated. Could the man be having second thoughts? The shadow half-turned, going back into the cave.

Quickly murmuring words to herself in a language that none on the continent of Ansalon had heard for countless centuries, Amberyl gestured.

Barely visible from where she stood, a glimmer of firelight burst into being far off in another part of the forest.

Catching a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye, Caramon shouted. “Raist! There’s—A fire! Someone’s close by! You stay wrapped up and ... and warm... . I’ll be back soon!”

The shadow merged with the darkness, then Amberyl saw the bright glint of armor in the moonlight and heard the heavy footsteps and labored breathing of the big man slogging through the snow.

Amberyl smiled. “No, you won’t be back very soon, my friend,” she told him silently as he passed right by the tree where she was hiding, “not very soon at all.”