14th Day of Coldeven, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
Cygnus looked around at the Tall Tales Room and smiled.
"This place never looked so good."
Aslan nodded and gave him a weary smile, then pulled off his helm as the two of them headed for the door. "We'll let Sir Dorbin and the others know what's going on, and then we'll retire."
All noise ceased as they entered the common room.
There were about eight or nine patrons assembled for the evening meal. They, along with the barkeep and the serving girl, all stopped and stared at the duo, particularly at Aslan. The paladin realized again what a sight he must look but wasn't going to waste any time on lengthy explanations. He was about to issue some instructions to the barkeep when he saw Monsrek.
The cleric was standing along the right-hand wall of the common room. He was wearing his chainmail armor and had his hand on the hilt of his broadsword slung at his hip. Next to him was a warrior that Aslan did not recognize. He was perhaps in his fifties, with strawberry-blond hair. He was armed and armored identically to the priest standing next to him. His eyes darted over to him.
"Monsrek!" he said. "Is that-"
"Aslan! Cygnus!" The cleric was already moving towards the duo, trailed by the fighter. "By the Summoner! What happened? The others- where are they? Are they are all right? Hold still, you fool!"
Aslan had shied back when Monsrek had laid his hand on his shoulder, but a fresh jolt of pain overcame any pretensions he had of false humility, and he let Monsrek heal him of his worst injuries. Meanwhile, Cygnus was eyeing the blond fighter curiously.
"You. You were with Sir Dorbin and the others, weren't you? Back on Aarde, in the dungeons of Venom?"
The man nodded. "Sir Menn, former Earl of Chesterton, at your service, good Cygnus."
His eyes seemed sad to the wizard. They seemed to be searching his and Aslan's faces for something but for what, Cygnus couldn't determine.
Aslan, holding his helm under his left arm, clasped Sir Menn's shoulder with his right hand. "I do not know the story of your arrival here, Sir Menn, but I am glad that you are well. Your companions have been our greatest friends and allies these past weeks. Regrettably, Cygnus and I are here but for a short while. We have been commanded by King Belvor to eradicate a group of slavers operating out of the city of Highport, far to the south. Our party is still alive, but in great peril. They are under siege in a temple inside the city. I must mindrest here, where I will regain the use of my Talent, and Cygnus here his spells. Then, we will return to Highport and hopefully, affect an escape. I am sorry that I do not have time to explain further, but time is of the-"
He stopped. Monsrek's eyes now held the same sadness as Menn's did.
Aslan tried to suppress a sudden chill.
"What is it?"
Monsrek looked down at the floor, then back at the paladin and wizard.
"You two had better come with me."
Outside, the sun had set, its dim reddish light illuminating only the very highest clouds now. Those few stars not hidden behind the clouds had already begun to make their appearances. A cold wind was blowing almost constantly from the northwest.
Sir Menn and Monsrek led Aslan and Cygnus towards the paladin's cabin, but they turned away from the door and headed around to the back wall. They could see Wescene, down on one knee, examining some tracks. Sitdale stood by her, sword in hand. The elf looked up at the quartet as they approached. Her face was visible only intermittently through her black hair being tossed about by the wind, but her eyes looked red, as if she had been crying. Both elf and half-elf bore the same look as the others. Aslan could now identify what it was.
It was the face of grief. The face of loss.
Aslan was about to ask her what the tracks were when he felt Cygnus tap him on his shoulder plate. The mage was pointing off into the distance.
About fifty feet to the northeast of Aslan's cabin, four figures were standing. A staff stuck into the ground by them was illuminated by continual light. Monsrek and Sir Menn, still not having said a word, beckoned the two to follow them there. Cygnus tried to swallow but couldn't.
They were headed towards the spot where a metal plate lay buried in the grass.
It was the memorial to Hyzenthlay.
Horrid thoughts began to run through the mage's mind, but then turned into pure confusion. As they approached, they could see that the four figures, who turned out to be Aiclesis, Torlina, Flond and Unru, were standing by a mound of freshly dug earth set about five feet from the location of the plate.
They had been digging a grave.
Cygnus turned to Monsrek. "My wife is not buried here, good Monsrek," he said as they arrived at the site, the four individuals already present exchanging miserable looks.
There was a brief silence. Monsrek stepped forward. "Cygnus. Aslan," he began, trying hard to maintain a calm demeanor. "Tadoa- Tad. He's gone. Nodyath took him. He has slain your dog, Aslan. Mirage." The cleric looked down at the earth. "I'm sorry. We didn't know when you would be back. We thought this might be where you would want him laid to rest. If you want, we can-"
Aslan had dropped his helm and walked over to the grave. He slowly knelt down and stretched his hand down into the cold, dark hole. He pulled off his gauntlet and ran his hands over his pet's cold fur.
There was a long silence.
"My good and faithful dog," the paladin whispered. "My most selfless of friends. Forgive me for not being there for you and forgive me once more that I may put aside my mourning for you and deal with the urgencies of the present. The living still need me, and you are beyond all sorrows now. I swear to you, we shall speak again."
He slowly rose up and nodded to the others. "This is a fine spot, my friends, if Cygnus has no objection." Aslan looked over to Cygnus, who seemed to be in shock. The magic-user blinked his eyes rapidly and nodded.
"Yes. Yes, of course. This spot is a memorial to all we have lost. Lay him here." Flond and Unru began shoveling the loose earth over the grave as Cygnus and Aslan turned their attentions back to the others.
"Tad," Aslan said, then stopped. He could go no further.
"From what Wescene can make of the tracks," Sir Menn began, his voice threatening to crack, "Nodyath assumed the form of a wardog. Perhaps Grock, or maybe even Mirage himself. This was perhaps three hours ago. We found," the fighter took a moment to compose himself. "We found his sword lying on the ground where the tracks ended. Tadoa may have found Mirage's body and realized the deception- too late."
Aslan stared at him for a moment, and then whirled and began walking quickly back towards Wescene and Sitdale. Cygnus followed, as did the others.
Aslan stopped at the spot by the rear wall of his cabin. He stared down at the dark stain on the earth, and then slowly looked up to the others. His face was without expression.
Wescene had stood up. Trembling, she stared at the paladin while fingering a holy symbol of Corellon Larethian in her hands.
"I- I told him- that he would find someone to love, when he- when he- grew up."
Wescene turned away and hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Sitdale put his left arm around her, but she shrugged it off and began walking back towards the inn. Sitdale glanced at Aslan with a helpless expression that reminded him of Elrohir, then slowly followed Wescene.
Aslan slowly went down on his knees. The paladin placed his hands on the ground, palms flat against the earth. He closed his eyes.
The others stood around Aslan, arranged in a rough semi-circle. No one spoke.
Aslan saw.
He saw Tadoa staring down at Mirage's cold, dead form. He saw the child whirl around, saw him drawing his sword as something that looked like Mirage but wasn't leapt at the elf. He saw the young elf's sword go flying, and he saw them disappear.
And he felt a child's terror, and someone else's savage delight.
Aslan opened his eyes, but his expression was blank.
"Psychic Impressions," murmured Monsrek.
Aslan gave no response, but Cygnus glanced sharply at the priest, who met his gaze.
"I did not know your friend possessed that Talent."
For some reason, that statement angered Cygnus. The mage walked over to the priest.
"And for what reason would he tell you, or Dorbin?"
Monsrek furrowed his brows at him. His expression was grim.
"So we might know that Nodyath also has that ability. This villain seeks the destruction of us all, my friend. Are there other hidden Talents Aslan possesses that we should know about?"
Cygnus was breathing hard now. The cold air was biting into his lungs, but he didn't care. "Ask him yourself," he seethed, and then went over and helped Aslan up to his feet. The paladin looked over at his friend and nodded.
"It's as they guessed, Cygnus," he said softly. "Nodyath took the form of Mirage after he had slain him. Tadoa is gone." His light blues eyes abruptly darted over to Monsrek and the others.
"We have many enemies, Monsrek. How were you so certain it was Nodyath?"
Torlina stepped forward.
"Because he came back afterwards."
Aslan and Cygnus were silent.
The wizard continued, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "We hadn't yet realized that Tadoa was missing. Sir Dorbin had come outside to speak to him when he saw who he thought was Aslan walk into the stables. Immediately afterwards, he heard yelling and neighing. He rushed into the stables to find 'Aslan' about to attack Perlial with his sword. They dueled- with their Talents. Apparently Nodyath was not at full strength, for he fled. He managed to duck around the side of the inn and teleport away."
Sir Menn indicated the inn with a tilt of his head. "Sir Dorbin is sleeping now; mindresting. Fee Hal stands guard over him."
Aslan walked over to the stables. Cygnus and the others followed.
Without a word, the paladin walked over to his warhorse, who nuzzled him gently. Cygnus did likewise with White Lightning.
Aslan had forgotten that the horses could cry.
He wiped away the tears trickling down the mare's face. She spoke in her low voice.
"Nodyath. He had no chance to deceive me."
Aslan looked at her quizzically.
Perlial's large brown eyes were shining.
"For all his Talent, for all his telepathy, Nodyath knows not of our special bond. When I saw him approach, I felt nothing."
They touched heads. "All blessings to the All-Father," they whispered almost simultaneously. Aslan gave her a momentary smile, and Perlial gave her mane a small shake.
Cygnus had been explaining to White Lightning what the situation was. Now, Elrohir's steed looked over to the paladin.
"Aslan?" She asked. "Do you think that Tad is still alive?"
Aslan was silent for a few seconds, and then he nodded.
"Yes, White Lightning," he replied. "I am certain he is."
"How can you know this?" inquired Sir Menn, who was standing by the stable entrance.
"Because, good sir knight," Aslan replied, "if Nodyath simply wanted Tad dead, he would have left his mangled body here for us to find. He has some other dark purpose in mind for him."
"Do you think he intends to ransom him, as he did with Thorin?" Torlina asked.
Aslan shook his head slowly. "Not to us. He knows now that even his vaunted helm is no sure guard against trickery on our part. He may intend to sell him to others, though."
Cygnus stared at him. "This Emerald Serpent? The one Jinella spoke of?"
"A good possibility, if her suspicions were true. If not, we must discover whom he is dealing with. Monsrek," the paladin turned to the cleric. "Can you send Jinella a sending, telling her the gist of what has happened?"
The older man ran his hand over his balding head. A smile flickered on his face. "If she will deign to accept it, I shall indeed, Aslan."
A sudden stab of fear jerked through Cygnus' heart. "Aslan!" he said. "Nodyath surely has read Tadoa's mind for any useful information. He must know now that we have sent Thorin and Barahir to the elves of Welkwood! We must warn Alias! Better still, we should get them back here as soon as possible!"
Aslan regarded his friend soberly. "And how shall we do that, Cygnus?" The magic-user gestured impatiently in response.
"Once you have mindrested-"
"Once I have mindrested, I will be returning to the temple in Highport as we planned, Cygnus. The lives of our friends are in no less than peril than before." His light blue eyes burned into Cygnus, who looked suddenly over to Torlina.
"Sir Dorbin," he asked her. "When he awakens, could he-"
"Sir Dorbin knows nothing of the Flanaess, Cygnus," Aslan cut in. "And we have no map here that could guide him, even if he were to risk his life in such an attempt."
Torlina said nothing, but Cygnus could see the truth of Aslan's words in her eyes. The wizard gritted his teeth and tried to maintain his composure.
"We have to do something. For all we know, Nodyath may have already-" he stopped, unable to continue. The mage looked down, then back up at the paladin's eyes, which had not changed their expression.
"Aslan," Cygnus asked. Although he had not been present for that scene, somewhere in his mind, he could see Caroline begging Aslan for transport, as he was now about to do. An intense feeling of jealousy was tearing at him. Why are we always begging Aslan for the use of his Talent? Why does he have this Talent anyway, and not me? We both serve the same god! He tried desperately to push the feeling away. "Imagine for a moment, that you had a son. Flesh of your flesh-"
"Cygnus." The paladin walked over to Cygnus and put his hand on the wizard's shoulder. "I cannot take you to Welkwood, but you can stay here and use all of your magecraft, and that of our friends here, to ensure his safety. Neither I nor the others will begrudge you this. Do so with a free heart."
Cygnus gulped. He wanted to reply, but he couldn't. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. That won't be enough, he thought. I know he's doing what he thinks is right, but I'm not going to lose my son again. If I can-
Shouting coming from outside interrupted his thoughts. Cygnus, Aslan and the others went around the side of the inn, just as Sir Dorbin, Fee Hal, Sitdale and Wescene came out the main door.
Sir Dorbin looked worse than they expected. His eyes were almost wild with grief, his brown hair a mess. His eyes roved over the new arrivals without settling on them. Cygnus thought he looked on the edge of delirium.
Then he looked at the other three who had come with him, and his blood froze. They wore the same expression their leader did.
There was more bad news coming, the wizard knew.
Aslan peered closely at Sir Dorbin, trying to catch and hold the knight's attention. "Sir Dorbin? It's me, Aslan! What is it?"
Dorbin's eyes finally locked on Aslan. He licked his lips several times, trying to summon up the strength to speak. When he finally did, his voice was a thin imitation of its strong, noble self.
"Aslan. Our world, our home…"
The paladin could feel all the blood rushing out of his face. Something, a feeling from earlier in that day, was trying to return to his heart and his mind, but he paid it no heed.
Whatever it was, it was already written on the knight's face.
Aslan put both of his hands on Dorbin's shoulders. "Good Sir Dorbin, time is of the essence to us. You must steady yourself and tell us what you know!"
Cygnus looked at Fee Hal, Wescene and Sitdale, but they were in no better shape than Dorbin was.
"Aslan," Sir Dorbin spoke again, his voice cracking as he tried to raise it above a hoarse whisper. His eyes moved to the others. "Cygnus. All of you. We will not be returning home. None of us. Ever…"
Sir Dorbin swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Our world, Aarde, as we knew it- is gone from our reach."
Part of Aslan's mind was screaming at him that precious minutes of mindresting were being wasted. Still, he sat along with the others at the two large tables that had been placed together in the Brass Dragon's common room. The paladin watched as Dorbin drained a large mug of ale, which apparently regained him some composure. The knight then took a hard look at Aslan again.
"Did you sleep at any time today, Aslan? Did you have a nightmare?"
Aslan flinched, although he knew that had been coming. Wisps of images roamed on the edges of his memory. He frowned, trying to focus on them, but Sir Dorbin was already continuing.
I saw a great ring of stones, on the shores of a lake."
Cygnus' eyes went wide.
"Tovag Baragu,"he whispered.
Dorbin glanced over at him. "What?"
"It is a site many leagues southwest of here," the tall mage said. "It is very, very old, and held as sacred by the Baklunish people of the Flanaess. A Baklunish wizard named Bar told me of it several years ago, and we have had first-hand experience of its awesome power."
The others eyed him curiously. Cygnus glanced over at Aslan, who indicated with a subtle nod for the wizard to continue.
"Tovag Baragu, also known to some as the Transformers Of Time, is both location and artifact. Whether its power is arcane, divine, or some mixture thereof, I do not know. We believe a holy cabal of Baklunish spellcasters are the only ones who have both the authority and the power to utilize the site, but we also believe that they may- how do I say this," Cygnus said, his features twisting into a grimace, "sell the usage of the Transformers to others for a high price."
"Example?" asked Sir Menn, his expression grim.
Cygnus looked down at the table and at his hands currently cradling a cup of mint tea. "At the beginning of this year, an old foe of ours named Scurvy John, a pirate from the Wild Coast down south, was apparently able to pay this cabal to utilize, if only briefly, the power of Tovag Baragu." The mage glanced up again at the others. "Among its myriad powers, the Transformers can instantly snatch any person anywhere off the face of Oerth and teleport them to the stone circle."
Numerous eyebrows went up, and there were several murmured expressions of astonishment.
Cygnus continued. "Scurvy John used it to have Argo, with whom he has a personal enmity, transported right out of our Tall Tales Room. I do not know all the details of what happened, but John apparently demanded single combat with Argo, in a fight to the death. Argo of course, as befits his contrary nature," Cygnus continued with a slight smile, "refused this. According to Argo, John was so enraged, he looked like his heart was going to burst. Argo was allowed to return home by those who controlled the Transformers, and that was the end of it." Cygnus shrugged and eyed the others again. "I was told other tales of Tovag Baragu, though," he added, his voice ominous. "Terrible tales, of the havoc it has wreaked in the past history of the Flanaess. All options are open to it. The fabrics of space and time are laid bare before the Transformers, to manipulate to whatever ends those who control them see fit."
Sir Dorbin was silent for a moment, and then he continued the recounting of his dream. "Inside of this circle, I saw a vision appear. I saw the earth as if from above, from a great height. I could see cities, towns, farms, forests, mountains, and rivers. I saw the sun cross the sky, and the moon. Then, it all began to flow by, faster and faster- night followed day in the blink of an eye. I saw cities vanish, and others arise in seconds. And then I heard a voice, great and terrible. Even as an omnipotent observer, I trembled."
Sir Dorbin's dark blue eyes looked from one face to another among his audience. "I know not who spoke, but it was not a voice of weal, nor was it the voice of a mortal."
"What did it say?" Wescene asked softly.
"Let thirty generations pass from home," the knight replied. He again looked around at the others, apparently searching for comments.
"Thirty generations," Aslan mused. "If the voice spoke from a human perspective, that would be-"
"Six hundred years," cut in Unru.
There was a stunned silence around the table.
"By every god above and below," whispered Fee Hal. "Everything, everyone we ever knew- all gone."
"Let's not close the book on this just yet, shall we?" Sir Dorbin asked, his voice once again regaining its mien of command. He glanced back at Cygnus. "Good Cygnus, if this Tovag Baragu caused this, then it should be able to undo it. This 'Bar' of whom you spoke of; could he aid us?"
The wizard slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Sir Dorbin," he replied. "Bar was slain some years ago by the lich Kar-Vermin." A thoughtful look came into his eyes. "Perhaps though, the Willip Wizard's Guild Library may hold some clues. Zantac's always boasting of it- perhaps it should earn its reputation."
"If Zelhile will still let him use it," Torlina added cautiously. "I daresay he's probably not very happy with him at this point. Or with you," she finished, her green eyes fixed on Cygnus, who could only nod a grim agreement.
"I wonder on whose behest this was done," mused Sir Menn.
Monsrek shrugged. "Nodyath would be my guess. Certainly, someone who wants things changed back on Aarde, or perhaps on Rolex."
Torlina glanced over at the priest curiously. "Rolex?"
Surprisingly, it was Flond who finished the thought. "Rolex is inextricably linked to our world, if Elrohir is to be believed. Whatever happened to Aarde has happened there as well, I don't doubt." He shrugged. "Why skimp on sharing the misery?"
"Well done, Dorbin."
It took a moment for everyone to realize who had spoken, but by that time Aiclesis had already risen to his feet. The elf was glaring at his team leader.
"We're here by your command alone." The rogue's voice dripped heavily with contempt. "We could have gone home before this happened. By the Abyss, we could have taken Tadoa with us, and spared his life as well! Now, we're all lost, one way or another!"
Cygnus and Aslan glanced at each other in puzzlement, but Aiclesis was already continuing.
"It wasn't our concern! Nodyath wasn't even from our world! Do you know what you've done? What do you think the odds are of our being able to reverse this? You've lost us our world! Damn you and your obsession with other Talents!"
Fee Hall jumped to his feet and came striding up to Aiclesis.
"You have no right to talk to Sir Dorbin that way! He's risked his life a hundred times over for you! Besides, why are you distressed more than the rest of us? Everyone knows how slowly life moves among your kind. You never change! Why would-"
Aiclesis' fist smashed into the youth's face. Fee Hal went flying back and crashed to the floor. He moaned, holding his nose with his right hand. Blood was starting to seep through his fingers.
"You fool!" Aiclesis shouted at him in elven. "You jumped into the bowl! We came after you! This is all your fault!" he shrieked at Fee Hal and started kicking the downed squire when Sitdale and Unru grabbed him from behind. There was a brief but noisy struggle, with everyone on his or her feet now. Those who were not yelling, or fighting were staring glumly around themselves. Dorbin, surprisingly, ignored the others and came over to Aslan and Cygnus.
"You two need to rest and regain your strength. Nothing else is as important right now. Torlina. Flond."
The two wizards turned away from the spectacle to eye the knight.
Dorbin gestured. "Alarm spells. Cast them for Cygnus and Aslan. Nodyath might still be nearby."
The two nodded and headed off, Flond upstairs and Torlina towards the main door. As he passed them, pulling up his brown hood over his face again, Flond turned to Cygnus.
"Still think we're better off than you are?" he hissed. The mage slammed the doors open as he went out.
Without another word, Dorbin turned away and headed back to break up the squabble.
"Come on, Cygnus," Aslan said quietly. "We both have tasks before us. Let's go."
Silently, Cygnus prepared himself for bed. He did not feel sleepy, but he felt tired. Drained. All the emotion slowly seemed to be seeping out of his body, and he didn't know if it was ever going to come back. Tad, Mirage; somehow, they already seemed like distant memories to him.
He grunted, shrugging off his backpack. Heavier than he expected, it slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the floor. There was a clattering noise as a small slate bounced out of it and landed at his feet.
Cygnus stared at it for a while, and then slowly picked it up. It bore several names upon it. His Enemies List.
He remembered the burnings of anger, the thoughts of vengeance, even the exultations of joy that this List had awoken in him in these days and weeks past.
Long ago, that was.
His hand opened, and the slate fell to the floor again. Cygnus slowly trod over to his bed, removed his robes and trousers, and lay down. He pulled the blankets up over his head. Everything seemed so unreal, so devoid of feeling. Even if they were to finally catch and kill Nodyath, Cygnus knew he would find no joy in it anymore. He knew his friends were counting on him. His son was counting on him. He had even seen the look in Torlina's eyes as tshe had left the inn for Aslan's cabin. She was hoping that somehow, Cygnus would be able to discover a way to help her and her friends.
The magic-user sighed deeply and stared at the inside of his woolen blanket, only dimly illuminated by a lit candle in his room. He thought of Aarde. Home. His parents. Part-Hew, his mentor. His grandfather, the supposed terrible wizard that he had never known. All those he had met there. Now gone. It was too much for him to imagine.
"I wish you were here, Hyzenthlay," he whispered. He rolled over on his side and hugged the goose down pillow tightly to his chest.
"Is this a sign, All-Father?" Cygnus whispered. "Have I been too prideful, too manipulative? Would you have me change? Or not? What would you have me do? Tell me, and I shall do it. All that I have done, all that I have planned, has come to naught. Please, Lord Odin. Guide me."
No voice answered back.
Aslan knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep.
He had undressed. He had unpacked what little needed to be unpacked. He had carefully hung up his holy symbol on the wall where it always hung when not in use, and he had stoked the fire in the fireplace, but his mind was in turmoil. Thoughts and feelings were surging through him like a raging river. He kept trying to calm down, using relaxation techniques he had learned from Tojo, but it wasn't working. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it in.
Thoughts of Aarde came unbidden. Home. Those he had known and would now never see again. His mother…
"Stop it," he told himself. "Stop it!"
He whirled and thrust his hand into the fire.
With a cry of pain, he pulled it back. His hand was already starting to blister. Awkwardly, with his left hand he found his waterskin and poured its contents over his hand, trying hard to choke off the scream of pain. He forced himself to look at his hand again. It was not a serious wound. Indeed, after he had mindrested, it would be gone forever, but the pain.
The pain of a selfish act. The pain that he felt more in his heart than anywhere else. The pain that did not heal. That was the kind of pain Aslan couldn't stand.
The kind of pain that he deserved.
"Is this the kind of sacrifice I need to make more often, Odin?" he asked with a note of bitterness as he sat down on his bed. He reached over to scratch Mirage's ears-
And stopped. The paladin looked around at the cabin. His empty cabin. Mirage would never again share it with him.
He glanced towards the wall next to him. Not ten feet away from where he sat, his beloved dog had slowly bled his life away, while a horrid monster with Aslan's face had looked on and smiled and plotted the abduction of an innocent child.
Aslan shut his eyes tightly, but it didn't help. As surely as if he was using his Talent, he could see himself telling Mirage to watch out for Tad. He could see himself telling the boy he couldn't come with them to Chendl, even as the elf had begged and pleaded, and finally acquiesced.
Like any child, Tadoa had believed his elders would look out after him.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Aslan whispered.
Abruptly, he threw his face upwards and screamed.
"This wasna supposed tae happen!"
No voice answered back.
Aslan slowly lay down on the bed, willing the tears to stop until they did. Grimacing with pain, he pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes again.
I am a paladin, he thought. A paladin of Odin. I have been blessed with a Talent no other man has. I have my faith, my courage and my strength to see me through adversity. My friends, who have saved my life in the past, now depend on my swift return. I need to be fully rested, and so I shall be. It is that simple. I will cut away the chaff of anything that impedes me in what I must do.
He thought of Cygnus, whom he knew must be feeling the same way. You were right Cygnus, Aslan thought. Even Sir Dorbin was right. Nodyath is not simply another foe to be countered or out-thought. I do not share his wickedness. I cannot predict his next move because I do not think like him, despite our outward similarities. We cannot be everywhere, but he only has to be in the right place for an instant. Very well, then. I shall play his game. When these Slave Lords have been vanquished, I will show my counterpart just how powerful I can be. I will make any sacrifice.
Aslan opened his eyes.
Above him, the blue eye of Odin, his holy symbol, gazed down upon him.
The paladin shut his eyes again.
I will pay any price.