Billy Shank noticed the approach of the large raven, and initially he reached for his sword hilt, thinking the bird to be perhaps a manifestation of Morgan Thalasi or one of his dark minions. Calamus recognized the familiar of Ardaz, though, and the obvious delight of the Pegasus as Des drew near reminded Billy of the creature’s true identity.
“Desdemona!” he called, making room for the raven to alight on the Pegasus’ back in front of him. As if in answer to his call, Desdemona became a cat again and rolled comfortably against Billy’s belly.
“No, no,” Billy scolded, remembering the cat’s penchant for untimely naps. “You can’t rest yet, kitten; you have to lead us to your master.”
Desdemona’s only answer was a steady purr as she rolled over onto her back, her paws stretched up into the sky and her eyes closed. Billy prodded her and called to her, but that only made her purr all the louder. He knew what Ardaz would do, though he held some reservations about that course of action. But as the cat continued to delay, the man found that he had no choice.
“It’s for your own good,” he explained, and he picked up the apparently boneless cat and tossed her off Calamus’ back. Desdemona let out her second shriek of the morning, and Billy held his breath until the animal became a raven again, her wings catching the air and slowing her descent.
“Lead us, to Ardaz!” Billy called. “It is so very important!”
Desdemona, of course, couldn’t fathom anything more important than her nap, but she wasn’t going to get much sleep gliding around in midair. She cut back toward the east and soared off, landing a few minutes later beside the tunnel in the ruins.
“Finally,” Billy breathed. He jumped from his mount’s back and rushed to the hole in the ground, poking his head down into the darkness. “Ardaz!” he shouted. “Ardaz, are you in there?”
A few seconds later, just when Billy was preparing to drop into the tunnel and go off to find the wizard, the steady glow of a magical light appeared down one of the twisting passages and Billy heard the familiar voice.
“Oh how grand, how grand, how grand!” the wizard rambled, speeding along back to the exit. “Desdemona, my sweet, you have finally learned how to talk! How very grand! So many years-” Billy flinched when he heard a thud and saw the light drop as the wizard tripped and fell.
“Who put that-” Ardaz snapped angrily. “Oh yes, oh silly me,” the wizard answered himself. “My own pack. Ha ha. Thought I’d lost it, too.”
“Ardaz,” Billy called again.
“Coming, Des,” the wizard replied. He hopped and stumbled to the hole, his robes and face covered with dust, and stopped short at the unexpected sight of Billy Shank.
“Finally,” Billy muttered again. “I have been-”
“Oh, Billy!” Ardaz interrupted. “Of course it wasn’t Des,” he scolded himself. “Glad to see you, my boy, I do dare say. Long way from home-what brings you all the way out here?-but I’ll see that the trip is worth the trouble, I shall indeed!”
Billy held his palm out, trying to slow the wizard’s frantic pace. “I did not-” he began again.
“Have you seen them?” Ardaz cried. “Of course you have. Ruins, my boy, ruins! Do you know what that means? Could you know? No, of course you couldn’t. Ha ha!”
“But-”
“Other people, of course!” Ardaz cried. “There are, or were-oh, I hope it’s not ’were,’ I do so want to meet them, after all.” He stopped, confused by his own banter. “But where was I?” he asked, though Billy knew that the wizard would not wait for an answer. “Oh yes, oh yes. Other people! An entire civilization existing right here on our back door.”
Billy understood that he had to find some way to stop the wizard, or Ardaz’s monologue could ramble on for an hour, and he knew of only one word carrying the shock value necessary to stop Ardaz in midramble.
“Thalasi,” he said, with all the grimness that the name deserved.
“Of course, they are not-” Ardaz’s eyes bulged and his tongue got all wrapped around itself. He lunged at Billy, attempting his usual hand-over-the-mouth technique whenever anyone uttered the name of the Black Warlock, but Billy expected the attack and pulled back out of the tunnel as the wizard came on.
Ardaz came leaping out of the hole in a shot. “Speak not that name!” he yelled, still coming after Billy with outstretched palms. By the time he finally caught up to the man, though, there seemed no need for his patented silencing technique.
“Speak not that name,” Ardaz said again, his voice now a somber whisper. Ever did the name of Morgan Thalasi take the bubble out of Ardaz’s voice. He glanced all around, as if he expected some demon to spring upon them where they stood, in punishment for Billy’s foolishness. “You will bring the evil one upon us, I do dare say.”
Billy’s eyes led the wizard’s gaze up to the dreary overcast sky, and Ardaz began to understand.
“But what brought you all the way…” the wizard began. “And with Calamus, indeed, why is he out of Avalon?” The wizard’s eyes popped open wide. “You do not mean…”
Billy nodded. “I came in search of you. The Black Warlock has returned.”
The blood drained from the wizard’s face. “But he died! Got shot, he did-bang!-on the field.”
“His talons stormed across the western fields and now hold camp across the great river from the combined army of Calvans, elves, and rangers.”
“Evil,” Ardaz breathed.
“We do not know how many thousands have died already,” Billy went on. “But we were certain that doom would overtake all of the known lands if Ardaz could not be found.” He motioned toward Calamus. “The final battle might already be under way,” he explained. “We have no time to tarry. I’ll try to answer your questions as we fly.”
“Of course,” Ardaz agreed quietly. “If only I could remember the proper spell,” he lamented, scratching his beard. “Could be there in a flash. But I don’t like that way of travel-miss too many of the sights along the road, you know. Oh bother, well, it does not matter.” He skipped over to the Pegasus and leaped onto its back. “I’ll help Calamus speed along-are you coming? We have not the time to tarry, after all.”
Billy didn’t bother to respond-caught up in the news and trying to devise some plan of action, Ardaz wouldn’t have heard him anyway.
And then they were soaring in the dullness that had become the Aiellian sky. Ardaz whispered some words of magical encouragement into the winged horse’s ear and Calamus’ flight grew doubly swift. Gradually, as the world rolled out below them, Ardaz calmed and settled silently into his seat. Billy recounted the events of the war to him, of the strange dual being that was now the Black Warlock, and of the wraith that had infected the land and had taken Andovar, the valiant ranger, from the realm of the living.
Ardaz, understanding the gravity of the tale, did not interrupt even once. He just sat very still and piped in with a “How very wicked!” or a “Terrible, just terrible!” every few minutes.
There were no skirmishes across the bridges that day, as both sides fell under the hush of anticipation. Tensions grew as thick as Thalasi’s gray sky, and the King of Calva, with Arien, Belexus, and Bellerian at his side, walked his horse about the field, checking and rechecking the defenses and the morale of his troops.
“They will come on the morn,” he predicted.
The others did not disagree. They could sense the pent-up excitement across the river, could see the talons pacing about, fingering their weapons in sweating hands.
“And we will be ready for them,” Arien Silverleaf promised. The Eldar had fought against greater odds than he now faced, and if there was any fear at all behind his noble eyes, the others could not sense it. King Benador drew strength both from Arien and from the two rangers, who had long ago vowed that their principles were more important than their mortal bodies. A ranger did not fear death by the sword, and a ranger did not surrender his hopes no matter how dark the blackness.