daydreaming or whatever it was for hours.
And what had the dream been about?
Who told you that?
The words echoed faintly in his memory, vaguely recognizable, and for a moment he almost had a grip on their origin. But then the link faltered, and his grip was gone. He tried to regain it and failed. For the moment, it was lost to him.
But not forgotten. At some point, he would remember.
He sat quiet and unmoving for a long time, coming back to himself in bits and pieces. The dream had disturbed him in a way that transcended his memory of the images or even the words. It was the feel of it, the way it pressed down on him like an oppressive weight. It was also in his recognition that it meant something that he could not decipher.
What had prompted the dream?
Simralin woke. Her eyes blinked at him, and she smiled. “Time to set out again, Little K. Are you ready?”
He smiled back, cold inside. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
They drew out the air bag and refastened its lines to the basket. Then Simralin engaged the blower and began filling the bag anew. As she did so, she glanced over to where her brother sat staring into space. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Well, maybe nothing. I dozed off and had a dream of sorts. About the Ashenell and Erisha and Culph. It was disturbing. Still is, thinking about it.”
“Well, try not to think about it, then. Dreams have a way of mirroring our doubts and fears. They suggest things that might be true, but usually aren’t.” She waited a moment for his response. When he failed to give it, she said, “Want something to eat?”
Leaving him to direct hot air from the blower nozzle into the slowly inflating bag, she reached into their supplies and pulled out some bread and cheese. Together they ate their meal and marked time. Kirisin tried hard not to think of the dream and ended up thinking about it all the more. Telling him not to think about something was tantamount to ensuring that he did. He didn’t blame Sim, though. She was just trying to be helpful.
Once they were airborne, he was able to shift his attention to the sweep of the countryside below, from the high desert to the mountain peaks, whiling away time searching out their route. The sun had moved farther to the west and south, and daylight was fading fast. The loss of light cast the shadow of the mountains far out across the high desert, layering it in dark, uneven stains. The moon was rising on the eastern horizon, a white crescent against the blackening sky. Kirisin gazed out over the landscape for a long time, saying nothing.
“Don’t worry, Little K,” his sister said suddenly, giving the air bag a fresh burst of heat from the blower. “We won’t get lost. The moon and stars will guide us, and I know this part of the country well enough to stay clear of trouble.”
“Will we reach Arborlon tonight?” he asked.
She nodded. “Early tomorrow morning, while it is still dark. Then we will have to decide where to land and what to do after that.”
Kirisin looked away. He had no plan to offer. It seemed that their only chance was to change minds already made up against them, and he had no idea of how to do that. For a long moment, he considered a radical approach. Upon reaching the Elven home city, he could put the magic of the Loden to use without telling anyone what he was doing. Just trap the Elves and their city and the Ellcrys inside and take them away to where they needed to go to be safe. But in doing so, he would be condemning an entire city and its population to indefinite imprisonment without giving a single one of them a chance to walk away. He would be using the magic of the Loden in an arrogant and cowardly manner. If his efforts to save them failed, he would have killed them all with his precipitous decision. No, he would need to tell them first, would need to seek the support of the King and the High Council. No matter where that led.
They flew on through the twilight into
And what had the dream been about?
Who told you that?
The words echoed faintly in his memory, vaguely recognizable, and for a moment he almost had a grip on their origin. But then the link faltered, and his grip was gone. He tried to regain it and failed. For the moment, it was lost to him.
But not forgotten. At some point, he would remember.
He sat quiet and unmoving for a long time, coming back to himself in bits and pieces. The dream had disturbed him in a way that transcended his memory of the images or even the words. It was the feel of it, the way it pressed down on him like an oppressive weight. It was also in his recognition that it meant something that he could not decipher.
What had prompted the dream?
Simralin woke. Her eyes blinked at him, and she smiled. “Time to set out again, Little K. Are you ready?”
He smiled back, cold inside. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
They drew out the air bag and refastened its lines to the basket. Then Simralin engaged the blower and began filling the bag anew. As she did so, she glanced over to where her brother sat staring into space. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Well, maybe nothing. I dozed off and had a dream of sorts. About the Ashenell and Erisha and Culph. It was disturbing. Still is, thinking about it.”
“Well, try not to think about it, then. Dreams have a way of mirroring our doubts and fears. They suggest things that might be true, but usually aren’t.” She waited a moment for his response. When he failed to give it, she said, “Want something to eat?”
Leaving him to direct hot air from the blower nozzle into the slowly inflating bag, she reached into their supplies and pulled out some bread and cheese. Together they ate their meal and marked time. Kirisin tried hard not to think of the dream and ended up thinking about it all the more. Telling him not to think about something was tantamount to ensuring that he did. He didn’t blame Sim, though. She was just trying to be helpful.
Once they were airborne, he was able to shift his attention to the sweep of the countryside below, from the high desert to the mountain peaks, whiling away time searching out their route. The sun had moved farther to the west and south, and daylight was fading fast. The loss of light cast the shadow of the mountains far out across the high desert, layering it in dark, uneven stains. The moon was rising on the eastern horizon, a white crescent against the blackening sky. Kirisin gazed out over the landscape for a long time, saying nothing.
“Don’t worry, Little K,” his sister said suddenly, giving the air bag a fresh burst of heat from the blower. “We won’t get lost. The moon and stars will guide us, and I know this part of the country well enough to stay clear of trouble.”
“Will we reach Arborlon tonight?” he asked.
She nodded. “Early tomorrow morning, while it is still dark. Then we will have to decide where to land and what to do after that.”
Kirisin looked away. He had no plan to offer. It seemed that their only chance was to change minds already made up against them, and he had no idea of how to do that. For a long moment, he considered a radical approach. Upon reaching the Elven home city, he could put the magic of the Loden to use without telling anyone what he was doing. Just trap the Elves and their city and the Ellcrys inside and take them away to where they needed to go to be safe. But in doing so, he would be condemning an entire city and its population to indefinite imprisonment without giving a single one of them a chance to walk away. He would be using the magic of the Loden in an arrogant and cowardly manner. If his efforts to save them failed, he would have killed them all with his precipitous decision. No, he would need to tell them first, would need to seek the support of the King and the High Council. No matter where that led.
They flew on through the twilight into
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