“I understand,” said Dogah.
Mina knelt to unbuckle the straps of the saddle that encircled Foxfire’s belly. Her Knights would have leaped to do this for her, but the moment one made a move toward the horse, Foxfire curled back his lip and halted the man with a jealous eye.
“I leave you in charge, Dogah. I ride this day with those under my command for Solamnia. We must be there in two days.”
“Two days!” Galdar protested. “Mina, Solamnia is at the other end of the continent! A thousand miles away, across the New Sea. Such a feat is impossible—”
Mina straightened, looked the minotaur full in the eye.
Galdar gulped, swallowed. “Such a feat would be impossible,” he amended contritely, “for anyone but you.”
“The One God, Galdar,” Mina corrected him. “The One God.”
Removing the saddle from Foxfire, she placed it on the ground. Last, she took off the bridle and tossed it down next to the saddle. “Pack that with the rest of my things,” she commanded.
Putting her arms around the horse’s neck, Mina spoke softly to the animal. Foxfire listened attentively, head bowed, ears forward to catch the slightest whisper. At length Foxfire nodded his head. Mina kissed the horse and stroked him lovingly. “You are in the hands of the One God,”
she said. “The One God bring you safe to me at my need.”
Foxfire lifted his head, shook his mane proudly, then wheeled and galloped off, heading for the forest. Those in his path were forced to jump and scramble to get out of his way, for he cared not whom he trampled. Mina watched him depart, then, as if by accident, she noticed Silvanoshei.
The elf had witnessed all that had passed with the dazed look of one who walks in a dream and cannot wake. He watched the fire blaze in grief that approached madness. He witnessed Mina’s triumphant return to life with disbelief that flared into joy. So convinced was Silvanoshei of his own guilt, that when he heard her accuse her assassin, he waited to die. Even now he could not comprehend what had happened. Silvanoshei knew only that his love was alive. He gazed at her in wonder and in despair, in hope and in dejection, seeing all, understanding nothing.
She walked over to him. He tried to rise, but the chains weighed him down and hobbled him so he found it difficult to move.
“Mina . . .” He tried to speak, but he could only mumble through the swelling and the pain of his broken jaw.
Mina touched his forehead, and the pain vanished, the jaw healed. The bruises disappeared, the swelling subsided. Seizing her hands, he pressed them passionately to his lips.
“I love you, Mina!”
“I am not worthy of your love,” she said.
“You are, Mina! You are!” he gabbled. “I may be a king, but you are queen—”
“You misunderstand me, Silvanoshei,” Mina said softly. “Your love should not be for me but for the One God who guides and directs me.”
She withdrew her hands from his grasp.
“Mina!” he cried in despair.
“Let your love for me lead you to the One God, Silvanoshei,” Mina said to him. “The hand of the One God brought us together. The hand of the One God forces us to separate now, but if you allow the One God to guide you, we will be together again. You are the Chosen of the One God, Silvanoshei. Take this and keep it in faith.”
She took from her finger the ruby ring, the poison ring. Dropping the ring in his trembling palm, she turned and walked away without a glance.
“Mina!” Silvanoshei cried, but she did not heed him.
His manacled hands hung listlessly before him. He paid no attention to anything going on around him. He continued to kneel on the bloody ground, clutching the ring, staring at Mina, his heart and his soul in his eyes.
“Why did you tell him that, Mina?” Galdar asked in a low voice as he hurried to accompany her. “You care nothing for the elf, that is obvious. Why lead him on? Why bother?”
“Because he could be a danger to us, Galdar,” Mina replied. “I leave behind a small force of men to rule over a large nation. If the elves ever find a strong leader, they could unite and overthrow us. He has it within him to be such a leader.”
Galdar glanced back, saw the elf groveling on the ground. “That sniveling wretch? Let me slay him.” Galdar placed his hand on the hilt of his sword that was stained with Targonne’s blood.
“And make of him a martyr?” Mina shook her head. “No, far better for us if he is seen to worship the One God, seen to ignore the cries of his people. For those cries will change to curses.
“Have no fear, Galdar,” she added, drawing on a pair of soft leather riding gloves. “The One God has seen to it that Silvanoshei is no longer a threat.”
“Do you mean the One God did this to him?” Galdar asked.
Mina flashed him a glance of amber. “Of course, Galdar. The One God guides all our destinies. His destiny. Yours. Mine.”
She looked at him long, then said softly, almost to herself, “I know what you are feeling. I had difficulty accepting the will of the One as opposed to my own. I fought and struggled against it for a long time. Let me tell you a story, and perhaps you will understand.
“Once, when I was a little girl, a bird flew inside the place where I lived. The walls were made of crystal, and the bird could see outside, see the sun and the blue sky and freedom. The bird hurled itself at the crystal, trying frantically to escape back into the sunshine. We tried to catch it, but it would not let us near. At last, wounded and exhausted, the bird fell to the floor and lay there quivering. Goldmoon picked up the bird, smoothed its feathers with her hand, and healed its wounds. She carried it out into the sunlight and set it free.
“I was like that bird, Galdar. I flung myself against the crystal walls of my creation, and when I was battered and bruised, the One God lifted me and healed me and now guides me and carries me, as the One God guides and carries us all. Do you understand, Galdar?”
He was not sure he did. He was not sure he wanted to, but he said,
“Yes, Mina,” because he wanted to please her, to smooth the frown from her forehead and bring the light back to her amber eyes.
She looked at him long, then she turned away, saying briskly,
“Summon the men. Have them collect their gear and make ready to depart for Solamnia.”
“Yes, Mina,” said Galdar.
She paused, looked back at him. A corner of her mouth twitched. “You do not ask how we will get there, Galdar,” she said.
“No, Mina,” he said. “If you tell me to fly, I trust that I will sprout wings.”
Mina laughed gaily. She was in excellent spirits, sparkling and ebullient. She pointed to the horizon.
“There, Galdar,” she said. “There is how a minotaur will fly.”
The sun was falling toward night, sinking into a pool of blood and fire. Galdar saw a spectacle thrilling in its terrible beauty. Dragons filled the sky. The sun gleamed on red wings and blue, shining through them like fire glowing through stained glass. The scales of the black dragons shimmered with dark iridescence, the scales of the green dragons were emeralds scattered against cobalt.
Red dragons—powerful and enormous, blue dragons—small and swift, black dragons—vicious and cruel, white dragons— cold and beautiful, green dragons—noxious and deadly. Dragons of all colors, male and female, old and young, they came at Mina’s call. Many of these dragons had been hiding deep in their lairs, terrified of Malys and of Beryl, of Khellendros, one of their own who had turned on them. They had hidden away, afraid they would find their skulls upon one of the totems of the dragon overlords.