Was this place even here? Could the mist have become solid to show them something which in truth was not there? Her eyes came back to the entrance. She drifted forward to touch the steps. Under her fingers the stone appeared real. She lifted her head. She’d been wondering what lay behind the mist ever since she came to the canyon. Now she would find out and no fear would stay her steps. She trod forward boldly, past a great bronze door cast with detailed images, although she would have loved to stop there, to peer at the tiny perfect scenes she saw out of the corners of her eyes.
Tharna and Hylan flanked her as she entered the great hall. It seemed to stretch forever to her startled gaze. Mist curled and lingered here so that she could not see the walls or far end of the hall. Light shimmered from that mist, brightening as they walked forward. It pooled about two oblong shapes that were raised above the floor on a small dais.
Slowly the three approached. Was this right? Were they called to this place? The welcome grew again: reassurance, friendship. This was very right, let them come forward, let them see and know.
Around Eleeri’s throat the pendant became heavier. Her hands went up to lift it away. As it ceased to touch her flesh, mist gathered there also; the weight fled but before her stood the pendant’s Keplian once more. The perfect stallion, eyes gleaming sapphire in the mist’s light. He reached out to touch noses with each of her companion Keplians and the woman caught the wonder that filled them. Her own hands went out, not to the stallion but to her friends. Minds met with power. Around them light shone brighter and from the dais came a great cry that echoed in their minds.
*Be welcome. Come to us and be welcomed, blood of our blood, children of kin.*
Eleeri allowed her feet to drift forward, up the seven shallow wide steps of the dais, until she could see what lay there within the cradle of the golden stone. The stallion of the pendant, too, had moved. He mounted the steps on the other side of her and reared high. Not a threat, Eleeri noted, more as if he paid homage to those who lay there. She laid one hand on the stone bed, felt the power which ran here. Whoever these had been, they had been Great Ones.
*Ah, for that we thank you, blood of our blood, but none were so great as to be invincible, be they of Light or of Dark.*
Involuntarily she stepped back. They Great Ones were not dead. Unless—unless in this land the dead could still speak? Gentle amusement met that thought. Encouraged, she moved back to look down at the two who lay there as if asleep.
She stared, blinked, and stared again. If you took from them the clothing, the fine jewels, the aura of power that yet lifted about them, the woman looked like—she had seen her own face in a mirror often enough. They might have been mother and daughter. The man, too, looked familiar. She studied the lines on the thin face, the weariness at mouth corners. Ka-dih, but he was Romar! Romar as he might appear worn thin with living and twenty years older. She cried out then.
“Who are you? What do you want of us?”
Pictures came in reply, as if they happened before her eyes. No sounds came, but what she saw gripped her, drew her in so that she stood motionless.
The two before her lived, loved, and laughed in a world that had once been. Lived here in this building of golden stone, loved each other, wed in heart, mind, and body. Laughed with—ah, yes, laughed with their children, a boy and a girl, twins, barely old enough to toddle upright. She saw the enemy their bright happiness made, saw him plot and scheme to bring them down, these kin to the Light he feared and hated. She watched as their lands fell prey to the evil he sent. She saw how at first they would have reasoned with him. They wanted no enemy, no battle, no blood shed on green grass. But it takes one only to begin a war, and war came to them from this enemy adept, steeped in Dark power.
At long last they understood that in this enemy there was no mercy. They turned from laughter to tears, weeping as their friends fell, as those who looked to them for guidance were slain. They created others. Meddled in the stuff of life to find friends who might stand with them. Called on powers and ancient names for aid.
That aid was given. Keplians came to walk with them as friends and companions at need. To fight beside them, to stand against the Dark at the side of Light.
“Then how . . .”
She was shown. Saw the enemy as he crafted an answer. The Keplian had come from power which was neutral, but it could be twisted, changed. This he did, yet what had been created for the Light could not be turned to Dark save by its own will. The race were of the shadow by his evil, but of the Dark by theirs alone. Those who chose differently could turn again to that which had created them.
A surge of emotion shook her. Her friends saw even as she did. Beside her the great black mare knelt on the steps. Her mind was clear: no words, but a cry—need, longing—let them return to the Light!
*Patience, child of kin, patience.*
The pictures swept Eleeri away once more. She saw how the forces of Light failed. Good did not always win, or why would evil strive? She watched as the lord and lady’s forces fell back until the canyon alone was held in safety. That last stronghold would not yield: the enemy knew all his power would not force its gates. But he could starve them out, keep them pent within forever. This he planned, but no plan is safe; it may be known, guessed at. And this was so. In their hall the two sat, their children playing about their feet.
The enemy had not known. One by one, two by two, they had sent those who were loyal away to safety. The Keplians had gone, the humans, the Flannan who shared their home. Even the horses and dogs, the two cats in whose friendship the lady had delighted. The hall was empty now save for the four who sat there. Eleeri was somehow privy to their conversation, but not in words. She simply understood as they decided. The time had come to send the children, then to leave their beloved home themselves. To join friends who were also of the Light.
She saw the rainbow play of power, saw a gateway open and the small boy toddle through. Then something struck. The gate shimmered, twisted, turned aside in dimensions unknown as the tiny girl entered. There was a cry of terror from the lady. Power roared—everything two parents had to save their child. Eleeri caught a glimpse of coast, of waves that hurled themselves in unending battle with the rock. With an almost audible snap her mind recognized the scene. She had been shown photographs more than once. From those who sent her the pictures there was a rising sense of warmth. Yes, yes!
Eleeri allowed it to sink slowly into her mind. Cornwall! That had been the Cornish coast. She understood what they showed her now, and why the path of the gone-before ones had opened to her. But—why had she been called here? Was there a purpose, something she should do?
*Patience. Watch.*
She saw the gate fade, saw the lady slump, weeping into cupped hands, her lord comforting her. The child had lived. She would continue to live even though the world be strange to her. Their son, too, was safe with friends. But the power had gone. They no longer had enough to build another gate for their own escape, or the escape of the great stallion who was brother-kin to the lord and had remained to carry them to safety at need. They conferred. If they could not leave, neither could that enemy which prowled outside enter. Not so long as they lived. This last place they could deny him, though they might not escape.
They chose, all three of them, to keep inviolate the home they had loved. Eleeri watched as they worked power to bind the Keplian into the small image. Something so small would be overlooked. Only when it touched the flesh of one of the blood and kin would it answer. She saw the stallion shrink, saw the lady stoop to mold a lock of mane in her fingers, add the silver loop. Silver, a metal of the Light. Any who found it would know this was no image from the Dark. They used the last of the greater power to send the pendant—somewhere. Then they stood hand in hand.