"The pronouncement's made," continued the Rox quietly. "The Guardians acted to ensure the stability of Ambros. Let's hope it's the last time we'll be called."
"The balance," murmured Syberiel.
"With Malekim under restraint, that should ensure it," agreed Sophos Rox.
"Much harm's been done," sighed the Gnosti. "So many lost. It's hard to comprehend it's finally over."
Sophos Rox turned to the man with the very, very long auburn hair. "We thank you and yours, Syberiel."
The Shadowlander nodded. He put his hand up to shade his eyes from the brightness of a sunset that blazed across a sky.
"We know the importance of balance, Rox. We've been taught very well." He glanced across to the extremely tall mage who'd not spoken. "Burelkin," he added softly, "the children of Chloronderiel ask you to return with them to the Shadowlands. It's your home after all, Benhloriel, as much as Yarilo."
In response, Benhloriel gripped the outstretched hand. "I'll come, Syberiel, though now isn't possible. Our Archmage is among the dead. The surviving masters have a difficult time ahead."
"We grieve Soryn's passing," said Sophos Rox sadly.
"In a sense," went on Benhloriel almost to himself, "this brings us to the end of another age on Ambros."
"If it's the end of the Second Age, we'll hope the Third Age is a more tranquil one," observed Disah tartly.
"It's time for the Rox to leave," said Sophos Rox into the sudden and pensive silence. "The mages must likewise return to where they belong. That's not on Ambros, is it, Bene?"
"No," agreed Benhloriel. He gave a sideways glance at Cynthas.
"Until then," cautioned the Rox sagely, "remember Ochleos Rox's prophecy. Though we hope what he wrote won't happen, it clearly hasn't touched on what's just been."
The chill winds that blew off the crag offered the companions little comfort. Their conversation was low, but fragments carried on the wind. Malekim's fate decided, they were restless. They were all representative of their species.
The tallest of the group had auburn hair sprinkled with white, a spare but surprisingly broad-shouldered frame and startlingly violet eyes. Huddled close to him was a delicate creature. Not much of her was visible beneath the voluminous cloak and hood, but you could see enormous green eyes, the green of rivers and oceans. These overwhelmed a delicate, oval-shaped face with high cheekbones. Her pointed chin was elflike. The slender neck seemed too frail to support the mass of thick, jet curls escaping from the hood.
The Rox stood a little distance from them. He, too, was very tall, but where the first man was slighter, this man was considerably broader-shouldered and deeper-chested, with hair as jet as the woman's, but, unlike hers, his was streaked with gold. His velvet eyes held a soft expression in their dark, brown depths. He spoke quietly and briefly to the couple before he calmly turned away to stand, contemplatively, alone. After a few minutes his form shimmered. In seconds, he was gone.
The Gnosti watched where the Rox disappeared, then sat beside the couple who squatted down to avoid the icy wind. The Gnosti gave a deep sigh. He pulled impatiently at his extremely long and tangled beard. He was very short and solidly built; there was something fierce about him when he stood four-square - the battleaxe he wore at his belt may have contributed to this impression. His face, usually grim and unyielding, was now very gentle. He smiled up at the couple, and when he stood to put his arm round the woman, his grip was so strong, she squeaked. With warmth in his smile, the auburn-haired man turned his head and held out a hand. The Gnosti briefly gripped it. He then began a slow walk away from them, to stand as if waiting for someone.
The Shadowlander stood further away. His eyes stared out into space. He was slender and seemed of barely any substance at all; he looked a man of shadow who was not quite real, his waist length auburn hair swinging round his transparent form in the wild gusts of wind. He approached the couple with a hand out, touched first the woman, his gaze intent, then the man. His expression was unreadable.
Then the Shadowlander walked to the Gnosti who awaited him and together they began to trek down the mountain trail. Neither of them looked back.
The last of the group was a little furry creature that sat placidly at the feet of the woman, the catlin with a wicked look in its orange eyes as its gaze followed the retreating figures. It meditatively licked a paw.
~~~
A noise rumbling in the distance grew so loud it made the man who remained move rather impatiently. He turned his head skyward. He waved his arm irritably. The noise came closer, the sun was briefly blotted out and the wind seemed even colder. Now the man was forced to take notice. The woman looked skyward too, her expression one of resigned sadness. The noise, now a roar, was accompanied by a blast of air that made the woman crouch to avoid being flattened.
Reluctantly the man strode forward, his arms raised. He stood absolutely still. His cloak whipped around him and his long hair was swept in all directions, but he didn't seem to notice the buffeting as he stood there, imperious and emanating power. A huge cloud drifted towards him, then, as it hovered overhead, it coalesced into a towering creature that flapped its enormous wings gracefully and rhythmically.
Dramas was a magnificent creature. His underbelly was golden brown, the scales along his back tawny/green, and his huge spiny ridge coloured from olive to slate. His wide-opened eyes were an unusual and vivid emerald. As he settled among the rocks, a spray of dust shot up in the air that made the catlin sneeze; even Bene and Cynthas started to cough. The dragon's huge talons scrabbled for purchase before the beast folded in red translucent wings. The red tongue flicked in and out in a leisurely fashion. Steam hissed gently.
Once the dust settled, Bene turned to face the dragon. Their eyes met and held, violet to green. They remained that way until the woman stepped forward. This made the dragon break eye contact with Bene and incline his head towards her, the emerald orbs revolving very slowly as if the dragon was pensive. He slightly dipped his huge head to her too. Cynthas spoke.
"You're called. You know you must go."
Bene swung away from the dragon. The swirling green eyes followed him speculatively as the mage walked back to Cynthas. The man held her close. His voice was very deep and mellow, but as he spoke there was sadness.
"The battle's won, beloved, but I feel we've lost so much more."
"Don't say that," whispered Cynthas.
Bene stared down at her for long moments, his gaze intent. When he spoke his voice was almost a snarl.
"There are times when I curse my fate."
"I can wait," responded Cynthas. "Nymphs live very long lives."
"As do we," replied Bene.
Cynthas put a hand to his cheek. "Maybe this isn't meant to be. Perhaps -."
"No! I'll find you and come. I promise you. Believe me."
Cynthas turned Bene gently to face the dragon who tossed his head, a flicker of flame wisping from his jaw. Bene rubbed his forehead. He glared at the dragon. Dramas merely gave a quiet hiss, idly flexed a wing, and absorbed the mage's stare.
"Sometimes," mumbled Bene, "I'm not sure if I'm the dragon, or he's me."
"Go now," urged Cynthas, pushing Bene into the dragon.
Dramas' eyes swirled thoughtfully at the nymph as she watched Bene climb over his side, grasp a fin, and haul himself up onto the spiked ridge. He settled in a natural, very deep hollow between two sets of spikes. Dramas trumpeted.
Cynthas ran back a distance. Scooping up the catlin as she went, she shook her head sharply when the dragon roared a second time and was almost flattened by the blast of hot air that accompanied the spreading of the colossal red wings. The dragon hovered briefly. As he did, Bene looked down at the tiny figure below, both he and Dramas astonished at the strong teleth that touched their minds.
"Care for him, Dramas."
As Dramas' beating wings drove him ever higher, Cynthas stayed crouched against a boulder as dust and stones flew up and about her. When the catlin pressed
hard in against her, she absently ran a hand over its back while she continued to stare into a now empty sky.
~~~
The mages on Yarilo recovered and grew in strength and power. The dragons withdrew to their Isle. The people of Ambros flourished and spread across their world. North and South thrived in the Third Age. The voice of the mages was heard through the Conclave of Reader Seekers, the Watchers were vigilant and Adepts and Initiates spread across the northern and southern continents. The Rox watched for any sign of dark disturbance. The Unseen Ones disappeared and hadn't been seen for a very long time. The cycles passed. Tranquillity came to Ambros. It was a Golden Age.
~~~
And Malekim licked his wounds and waited. He was patient. He needed time to heal. He'd become a pitiless, hollow being, an abomination. As he painfully recovered, so he grew in power. Somewhere, he knew, the balance would be ruffled, even minutely. He'd wait for that and use it for his own ends. It motivated his survival. Time brought him strength.
THIRD AGE: THE BEGINNING
A quotation from Ochleos Rox, Guardian on Lilium, to the Mages of Yarilo and to the Conclave of Reader-Seekers on Ambros.
Through the struggles that have come and will come again, shall a balance be restored to Ambros. It must be understood. The Watchers and Guardians must be ever vigilant. Those to whom the balance is entrusted must fulfil their duty by ensuring it.
They must look for the child who's made a shadow and thus becomes a child of the dark. There'll be a child born of light and dark who'll of all kinds be made into one. The child will have power. Teach the child to use it wisely so that it doesn't become an instrument of chaos.
The paths of these children, and those touching them, will be very hard. They'll be torn between powers they can't comprehend. Watch for all the children who hold the balance of Ambros in their hands. In the binding, those of the dark and the light will unite to become one.
Only then will the balance be immutable and Ambros finally at peace. This wisdom is given to me to pass on to you. Take heed. Ignore it at your peril.
CHAPTER FOUR
Now, with his hair so liberally sprinkled with white that little auburn was apparent, Bene stood in a clearing observing the nymph. He smiled as he leaned nonchalantly against the dappled trunk of a ule tree, slowly and absently stripping bits off a leaf. The smile faded to be replaced by a deeply thoughtful expression.
Cynthas threw a heavy plait over her shoulder, rose from the grass and trod lightly over to where Bene stood, looked up at him, and stood on tiptoe so she could run a finger across his face. Bene held her, his eyes fixed on her dark head.
"You're concerned, aren't you?" Cynthas asked.
"I've no authority to be here," admitted Bene. "If it was known what I came for I'd have been stopped. Dramas wasn't happy to bring me."
"I know he wasn't." Cynthas pulled Bene's head down to hers and gently kissed him. "I called him, telling him I wished you to come this once."
Bene pulled up his head startled, saying, "You called him? I'll come again. You must know I wouldn't leave you." Bene paused, then added softly. "We do no harm."
"Listen to me, Bene," she whispered. "Dramas won't bring you again. We've waited so long. It was my longing that brought you here."
Bene leaned forward and held Cynthas in his arms, where he cradled her, murmuring gently to her as he rocked back and forth.
When he reluctantly let her go, he said calmly, "It takes two to love, Cynthas. I'll return." Cynthas smiled mistily up at the face she loved so dearly.
"I know you'll try, Bene - I know if you can come, you will. I'll always wait for you. You must know that whatever happens, Bene, I'll understand."
Not entirely comprehending such a cryptic comment Bene turned, his violet eyes a little wild.
"I can't stay," he said, his voice unsteady. "Dramas makes such insistent calls."
"I can hear him," said Cynthas ruefully. "You should listen to him. He's very wise."
"He fusses so," muttered Bene. Impulsively he stretched out his arms to Cynthas saying thickly, "I'll come back." Abruptly, he released her and turned away, unable to look back.
Cynthas stood where he'd left her. All was silence, calm and warmth, but even so, Cynthas gave a deep shiver. She watched until Bene was lost to sight, then she sat in the grass and quietly wept.
~~~
As Bene and Cynthas lay entwined that day, Malekim was aroused from a relaxed doze by the slightest tug at his mind. His eyes lit with a predatory light and a smile touched the thin lips; the eyes remained mirthless. He felt the tug again, almost imperceptible, before it passed. He closed his eyes though the smile broadened. He knew his strength rapidly returned. In not too many Yarilan cycles, he'd be ready.
~~~
Not only Malekim was roused on this day. Sophos Rox was lying comfortably stretched out when he felt a faint mental intrusion. Irritably he ignored it, but only for a brief second, then his eyes snapped open sharply, aware something of concern touched him. He was so attuned to Ambros nothing escaped him. He sat, more alert, and tried to recollect the sensation he'd experienced, and, as he did he felt another slight tug at his mind. He thought it was a dragon call but couldn't be sure. He opened to teleth and waited.
Sophos Rox was a guardian and very old. If anyone asked him his age, Sophos would've found it very difficult to answer, because time for him became irrelevant some hundreds of Ambrosian cycles earlier. He was a magnificent example of his species.
His head was mostly gold. It was a noble head, with very dark brown eyes set above a broad, long black nose. His tall, pointed ears were dark, the hair in and around them long and delicately curled, and his folded wings were cream, as were parts of his chest and face. When he took Ambros form, which he preferred not to do, he was extremely tall and well-built. Even for his species, he was large.
As he waited, a scene slowly formed in front of him that he watched carefully. A huge dragon, Dramas, Sophos recognised with a touch of surprise, had just landed in a meadow somewhere in central Ambros. Sophos knew the dragon shouldn't be there. When Sophos saw Bene alight and commune briefly with his dragon before he walked briskly towards trees, the Rox followed. In a clearing by a small stream, sat Cynthas.
Warnings rang in Sophos' mind. He telethed his concern to other Guardians and to the dragons. Dramas trumpeted in response, Sophos noticed, but Bene ignored him. Collectively the guardians telethed Bene: with a flash of mutual anger and surprise, they realised Bene had deliberately closed off communication.
~~~
Ever since the troubles caused by Dire, neither Rox, dragons nor mages mated with Ambrosians. It had been frowned on for so long, no one gave it any thought. For a mage to mate in such a way was rare. Sharing between Ambrosian and Ambrosian nymph wasn't a serious breach, because such interspecies affaires were invariably sterile, but Sophos Rox, with a sigh, acknowledged that the attraction between Bene and Cynthas was well known.
Sophos Rox was no voyeur. He snapped the image closed and received the perturbation of all the Guardians at once. He carefully sifted through the voices until he found the one he wanted - the Guardian who oversaw the training of mages.
"Sophos," came the soft thought in his mind.
"Lektos," was the response. Both Guardians closed down the thoughts of others and came instantly into focus in the other's mind. Sophos saw the sorrow in Lektos' eyes.
"Did you know about this, brother?" Sophos asked quietly. Lektos sighed.
"Their working together so long ago wasn't wise. I accept that in hindsight. Their regard for each other wasn't merely passing."
"It was a mistake," admitted Sophos. "I should've foreseen this. Dramas knew Bene wasn't to go back to Ambros so soon in Yarilan time, so I'm at a loss to know why he did."
"How could any of us foresee this?" Sophos moved restlessly before he answered.
"Bene's cl
osed to all avenues of communication." There was an odd tone to Lektos's voice in response.
"Dramas was to advise me if Bene requested to go to Ambros. I had no warning of this. Bene didn't call Dramas, or if he did, it wasn't in the usual way. That puzzles me too. Bene clearly wished his time with the nymph to be solitary, and that's not something we can chide him for."
"Maybe Dramas thought you'd stop Bene," suggested Sophos.
"Perhaps I should've intervened," Lektos sighed. "But I knew too late. I repeat, Dramas didn't say Bene requested to go to Ambros. This confuses me. Could it possibly be that Cynthas has the ability to actually call Dramas?" There was a long silence.
"If you look forward, brother, you may well have taken swifter action."
"Have you gone ahead, Sophos?" Sophos nodded. Lektos looked long at his brother, saying finally, "They must have freedom of action, brother. We all know that, despite what the consequences might be. I don't solely choose the mages." The sadness in Sophos' eyes was reflected in Lektos' deep voice.
"No," agreed Sophos gently. "We have to accept they all have shadow and light. Now our task's to try to control any damage."
"If we can."
"If," said Sophos quietly, repeating Lektos, "we can."
"Bene must not return to Ambros."
"He won't," said Sophos tersely. "Dramas will see to that." There was a long silence between the two Rox again.
After the very thoughtful pause, Lektos asked, "How far did you see, Sophos?"
"To Cynthas."
"So you saw a child?" Sophos sighed this time,
"I did. I don't believe Bene knows of this. He'd know such unions are invariably sterile."
"Not this time."
"This alters everything." There was another long pause before Lektos spoke.
"Brother, early on I felt the faintest trace of awareness."
"So, Lektos, did I." Lektos gave a deep growl.
"Who has an awareness of this breach in the balance?"
If it was possible for a Rox to do so, then Sophos almost snarled. He drew his lips back from his teeth.
"The fool," he murmured. "The fool Bene is. Couldn't an Archmage see beyond his immediate passion?" Lektos sighed.
"Every action precipitates a reaction, isn't that so?" Sophos looked at Lektos, concern deep in his dark eyes.