Burdened by Melisanda's weight, he stumbled and fell as he emerged from the shadow portal. For a long moment, it was all that he could do to pick himself up, dragging Melisanda away from the cold stone slab they'd appeared upon. Cloud-wracked sky stretched away above him, and the hushed sound of the nearby water filled his ears. It was night here, or a day so dark that he couldn't tell the difference, and a great storm was almost on them, with howling wind and crackling violet lightning arcing from cloud to cloud.
"Aeron! Where are we?" Eriale shouted against the storm.
He took only a moment to find his bearings. The great fortress and city were still below him, a mile or so away, ringed by siege entrenchments. "This is Akanax," he told her. "Soorenar's armies are laying siege to King Gormantor's tower."
Eriale looked at him blankly. "But that's a hundred miles or more from Cimbar!"
"That's why Oriseus built his shadow doors. Here, help me with Melisanda. I want to get away from the hilltop."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know what's going to happen when the Shadow Stone shatters, and if we're standing right by the portal we're only a dozen yards from the cursed thing." Aeron didn't wait for Eriale, but staggered down the path toward the Avanite camp. Eriale carried Baillegh down behind him.
Without warning, the world broke beneath his feet.
The hilltop rocked as if it had been kicked by a titan, spilling Aeron and Eriale to the ground. From the open hilltop above and behind them, a brilliant flash of crimson light erupted, casting its eerie glow against the low, scudding clouds and throwing long shadows out and away from them. A split second later, a rolling thunderclap blasted Aeron to the ground again, a wall of air dense enough to splinter trees and pulverize boulders. Aeron was flung head-over-heels down the hillside, fetching up a long moment later in a small hollow, Melisanda sprawled beside him. The sky reeled drunkenly above him.
Overhead, the clouds began to dissipate, with slanting shafts of sunlight piercing the gloom. Aeron frowned, trying to figure out what was happening. He scrambled to his feet, looking out over the landscape. Golden rays shot through the clouds, illuminating sparkling patches of ocean beneath the stormclouds. Beside him, Melisanda drew a deep breath, the color returning to her face. Her eyes flew open.
"Oh, Aeron. Can you feel it?"
He closed his eyes, stretching out his senses. He could feel... magic. All around him, the Weave poured back into the land, a trickle at first that grew into a torrent, the power of life and nature reasserting itself against the wrong of the Shadow Stone. It surrounded him in a living chorus of enchantment, until he laughed in open, childlike delight. Eriale slid down the slope from the place where she'd fallen, and Baillegh yipped happily, dancing like a puppy chasing sunmotes. Even in the armed camps below them, Aeron could see soldiers staring up into the sky and wandering in incomprehensive circles. Impulsively, he caught Eriale and hugged her, and then turned to embrace Melisanda.
"You did it," she said. "The spell's broken!"
"No," he replied. "We did it."
"What now?" Eriale asked. She nodded at the great armies below. "Do we try to straighten up the mess Oriseus has made of all this?"
Aeron thought for a moment, and shook his head. "That's not our concern. Let them work it out without the machinations of mages and archmages." He turned toward the south, watching the skies clear. "By my guess, Cimbar is that way. Let's start walking."
Epilogue
Spring had come early to Cimbar, as if the forces of nature wished to make up for the failed summer of the year before and the long, dark winter wrought by Oriseus's magic. As always, the endless activity of the great city fascinated Aeron as he stood gazing out over the harbor from the old battlements. The galleons and roundships of a dozen nations rode at anchor in Cimbar's harbor, and if he looked hard enough he could make out the tiny shapes of sailors working on their decks. It was good to see the port bustling with trade again; Chessenta had had enough of war over the last ten years, and the people looked forward to a long peace.
"Are you certain you can't stay?" asked Melisanda, her arm around his waist. "We need you here, Aeron. I have only a fraction of your skill and power, and sooner or later the demagogues and the senators will see through the anonymity of the Sceptanar's title. I need a wizard like you to heal the college and back me up when I falter."
"You're being selfish," he told her, and kissed her softly to show that he didn't mean it. "I've been away from the Maerchwood far too long. And besides, you'll be a much better Sceptanar than I've been in the last five months. People like you."
She shook her head. "I'm not even Chessentan. They'll know it soon enough."
Aeron tapped the rod of silver and jet that hung at her belt. "The Sceptanar's rod of office conceals your identity. The Cimbarans are accustomed to the rulership of a faceless, voiceless lord. You'll do fine. Hold the office until you find a worthy successor, and then you can leave anytime you like."
"Well, I want to go with you then."
He smiled sadly. "Someone has to put Cimbar back together," he replied.
He turned to gaze at the ruins behind them. The Broken Pyramid had been leveled by the stone's destruction. Not a single wall remained standing. A shadow passed over his heart as he thought of the dozens upon dozens of masters and students who lay somewhere beneath the rubble, victims of the cataclysm he'd unleashed. Past the wreckage, he could see workmen scuttling around the demolished wing of the Masters' Hall. The backblast through the shadow-portals had razed the Council Chamber and a great part of the surrounding building.
Melisanda followed his gaze, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It would have been worse if Oriseus had won," she said. "You did what had to be done, Aeron."
"Do you ever wonder if he slipped away at the last moment somehow? If he's really down under the ruins with the rest of his followers?" Aeron asked quietly. "Or if any pieces of the Shadow Stone survived the blast?"
Melisanda frowned, but she passed it off with a shrug. "No one will ever know, I suppose. I mean to leave the pyramid just like it is. It won't be rebuilt."
"A warning?"
"Yes. And a reminder."
He thought about that for a time. "Good," he said.
"Your sister's waiting for you." Melisanda nodded toward the old stone stair that led down to the college's boat landing. "You don't want to miss the tide." She reached up and caught his face in her hands, pulling him close for a long kiss. Aeron felt her warm tears dampen his face. "Goodbye, Aeron."
"Goodbye," he said huskily. "When you've got things in order here, come to the Maerchwood. I want you to see it with me." With one last kiss, he broke away and shouldered his pack, trotting across the open field to where Eriale and Baillegh waited.
"Are you ready?" Eriale asked.
Aeron took a deep breath. "Let's go home."
About the Author
A former naval officer, Rich has been designing games for TSR, Inc., since 1991. His game design credits include the ALTERNITY(tm) science fiction role-playing game and the BIRTHRIGHT(r) Campaign Setting. Rich is a hopeless baseball fan, devoted to the Philadelphia Phillies-a fairly hopeless baseball team. He currently resides in the Seattle area with his wife, Kim; his daughter, Alex; and another daughter (?) who's scheduled to make an appearance in July.