Darkwell - Douglas Niles [104]
"It used to be so beautiful. When I first came to study with Genna, these hills were bursting with every kind of wild-flower, and the lake gleamed with such a light that it hurt your eyes to look at it."
"Perhaps it will again, when we are through."
"I don't know…" Robyn turned to look at Tristan, her eyes somber. "I can't help but think that something very profound is happening, something that will change the nature of these isles forever. I doubt that they will ever be the same again."
"We have to try!"
"I know that, and we will try – we are trying! And if we triumph, this will not be the place of evil that it is right now. I just feel that it will never again be the Myrloch Vale of the past."
Tristan didn't understand exactly what Robyn felt, but that fact did not surprise him. He had always been rather mystified by the intricacies of her faith.
"We should get started soon," he suggested, "before those damned birds catch up with us again."
"You're right, though we did lose them rather handily yesterday."
"You lost them, you mean." Tristan took Robyn's shoulders in his hands and looked full into her green eyes. She started to turn away, then met his gaze, though he could not read her expression. He continued. "You gave us the river that allowed us to escape. You kept us alive last night, when we would all have frozen. You have even given me a reason for living, when it seems as if everything around me is dying because of my own shortcomings!"
"You cannot blame yourself! We have all blundered our way through this quest, and we're lucky to still have some hope of reaching the well! But you can't feel sorry for yourself because of the cost." Robyn's tone softened.
"Tristan, you're a good leader. People follow you. You are High King of the Ffolk, and you are the finest fighter I have ever seen. This quest is yours as much as it is mine.
"It may be that things between us will never be the same. I don't know. I do know that the most important thing in the world to me is reaching the well and excising the power that holds the druids in stone. I need you to help me get there. Will you do that?"
He looked at her with a new clarity. Her words about the change in her feelings sent a cold knife into his belly, but he understood the task before them, and knew that he had to try. He nodded and answered.
"Let's get started."
* * * * *
"Wh-where's the next gate?"
"I is tired! Rest now!"
"C-Come on, Honkah! Just one more gate, then we rest – we rest!" Yazilliclick's urging finally lifted the troll from the mossy log he had collapsed onto. The sprite buzzed into the air, hovering on his gossamer wings, as the troll lumbered along beside him.
"Yer friends gots wine?"
"Oh, yes! L-Lots of wine!" Yazilliclick exaggerated slightly, but hoped that his companion would overlook this slight indiscretion.
The creature, who had confessed to the name of Honkah-Fah-Snooei, reluctantly started across yet another flower-bestrewn meadow, amid clouds of hummingbirds and fat honeybees.
"Dis way."
The sprite flew joyfully above, beside, and around him, delighted to be back among the pastoral reaches of Faerie. Overhead beamed the never-setting, gently warm sun that gave this realm a constant springlike air. Faerie was a small realm, not even as large as a single of the Moonshae Islands. It was enclosed in a bubble of magic that held it safe from the intrusions of more violent and brutal planes.
Yazilliclick saw that it hadn't changed much, if at all, since he had departed through a gate to the Forgotten Realms. They came upon a band of satyrs – manlike creatures with tiny horns on their foreheads, and the hind legs and tails of goats – playing their pipes and dancing in the sunshine. A beautiful wood nymph appeared, her silken gown shimmering in the soft sunlight. She glanced coyly at Yazilliclick, and he blushed