Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [87]
Saryon glanced questioningly at the Prince, who nodded again. Carefully unrolling and smoothing the document, the Priest began reading aloud:
I leave this record with Father Saryon to be read in the event that I do not survive my initial encounter with the enemy …
As he read Joram’s description of his entry into Beyond, Saryon glanced up now and then to observe Lord Samuel’s reaction and that of his wife. He saw upon their faces first perplexity, then growing comprehension, and, finally, unwilling, fearful understanding.
I can tell you little of my thoughts and feelings upon walking—as I suppose I did—into death, into Beyond.
A moan escaped Lady Rosamund at these words, accompanied by soothing, whispered words from Marie. Lord Samuels said nothing, but his expression of grief and sorrow and confusion touched Saryon deeply.
He glanced at Garald. The Prince was staring into the flames. He had read the document; Joram had given it to him on their return from the battlefield last night. He had read it many times and Saryon wondered if he fully comprehended it, fully understood. The Priest didn’t think so. It was too much to grasp. He knew it to be true. After all, he had seen the evidence with his own eyes. Yet it was so unreal.
I did not even know—so lost was I in my own despair—that Gwendolyn had followed me. I remember hearing her voice as I stepped into the mists, calling me to wait….
Lord Samuels groaned—a deep, wrenching sob. His head sank into his hand Saryon ceased reading. Rising swiftly, Prince Garald came to kneel by the man’s side. Resting his hand upon milord’s arm, he repeated gently, “Be strong, sir!”
Lord Samuels could not reply, but he laid his hand gratefully over the hand of the Prince and seemed to indicate, by a weak nod, that Saryon was to continue. The catalyst did so, his own voice breaking once, forcing him to stop and clear his throat.
When I awoke, I found myself in a new world, living a new life I married my poor Gwen—to keep her safe and secure—and part of every day I spent with her in the quiet, loving place where she stayed while the healers of Beyond endeavored to find some means to help her.
It has been ten years … ten years in our world.
“My child!” Lady Rosamund cried brokenly. “My poor child!”
Marie held Lady Rosamund close, her own tears mingling with those of her mistress. Lord Samuels sat quite still; he did not raise his head or even move. Saryon, after glancing at him a moment in concern, continued reading without interruption to the end.
The game is nothing, the playing of it everything.
Saryon fell silent. Sighing, he began to roll the parchment in his hand.
Outside the window, the falling snow deadened all sound. It seemed to be covering Merilon in heavy, white silence. The parchment rustling in the Priest’s hands sounded unnaturally loud and jarring. Cringing, he stopped.
Then Prince Garald said, very softly, “My lord, they are here, in your home.”
Lord Samuels raised his head “Here? My Gwen.”
Lady Rosamund clasped her hands together with an eager cry.
“They are waiting in the hall I want to make certain you are strong, my lord,” Garald continued earnestly, holding onto Lord Samuels’s arm, restraining him as it seemed he was about to fly from his chair. “Remember! It has been ten years for them! She is not the girl you knew! She is changed—”
“She is my daughter, Your Grace,” Lord Samuels said hoarsely, thrusting the Prince aside. “And she has come home!”
“Yes, my lord,” replied the Prince quietly, sadly. “She has come home. Father Saryon—”
The catalyst left without a word. Lady Rosamund, with Marie at her side, came to stand by her husband. He put his arm around her; she clung to him, hastily wiping away all traces of her tears from her face and smoothing her hair. Then she caught hold of Marie, holding the catalyst’s arm with one hand, her husband’s with the other.
Saryon returned, accompanied by Joram and Gwen, who stood waiting in the doorway, hesitant to enter. Both were muffled in heavy fur cloaks and hoods that they