CHAPTER XVIII MEMORIES Merri sat cross-legged before the Elder, eyes closed, a look of concentration on her face. Ailuros lay curled nearby, awake but also with his eyes closed. Her frown deepened, and she finally opened her eyes and blew out her breath in frustration. "Patience, young one, patience. Wait, and it will come to you. The key to mastery is persistence and practice." Merri snorted. "Why is it that the words I dislike most all begin with 'p'?" She asked. The Elder laughed, a soft, dry-throated sound. "There is no mystery there. It is because you are a mortal, and you chafe quickly at what you see as pointless waiting. You think that time waiting is time wasted, that any time spent in ways that do not immediately produce results is precious time better spent at other, more rapidly gratifying, tasks. It has always been so, with you and with almost all mortals." Merri sighed, feeling somewhat guilty for her show of impatience, minor though it was. "I'm most sorry, ancient one. I am just frustrated by my inability to remember, and how much more difficult this is than it had seemed. You said that it would be the same as with Ailuros, but with him, I do not even try." "You mistake me, child. It is like to your bond with Ailuros in nature only. Indeed, it is doubtful that with anyone else will you attain the same depth of connection as with your companion. You cannot hope to replace with lead that which was forged with iron. It is also perhaps true that the ease of your bond with your friend hinders your learning, for the touch is so simple, so always-there, that you do not think of it. You simply want it to be so, and it is done. It is not so with learning the mind-speak. For that there will be much waiting, much seeking in the dark." "Again, I ask forgiveness. I should not be so ungrateful to you, not after you have shown me such courtesy. I know that it is a sufferance for you to put up with my complaints, which must seem to your timeless ears as constant as the sun's risings." The withered elf smiled. "Do not assume how I 'must' perceive things. The minds of those around you are closed to you; You cannot dream of the things they conceal. Even after you master the mind- speak, if indeed, you ever do, for it is a demanding skill, even then you will only begin to conceive of how different, yet how similar, are the thoughts that fill the minds of strangers. Or, indeed, of friends. But, if you tire of your efforts at mind-speaking, then you need not continue now. There is always another time." "Would that I had but a measure of your patience." "Patience is an art that often learns itself, child. You will come to understand the meaning of that as your years unfold. But, now, how comes your healing? Have you remembered anything new?" Merri sighed. "I remember little more than I did when you found me, I'm afraid, and that was near a week ago. I remember... my sister, that there was something important I needed to tell her." "What is it that you desire to tell your sister?" Merri smiled, though there was little humor in her voice. "That is one of the many things I do not remember. It seems so strange. I don't even recall how I came to be here." "I have told you, child, that I found you wandering these forests, blank-eyed, the panther beside you, guiding your steps. I brought you here, and..." "I know." Merri said, and an instant later felt her face growing uncomfortably warm in embarrassment as she realized that she'd demonstrated her impatience again. "I am sorry, Elder. I should not have interrupted." The Elder shrugged, "But that wasn't what I meant. You have told me how I came to your village, and so far I have found no fault with my recent memories. What I meant was, how did I come to be wandering these forests? I do not remember much of myself, but I do know that this place is far from my homeland." "I do not doubt that, in time, these mysteries will reveal themselves to you. You say you remember a sister? Do you remember what she was like?" "No, I..." Merri stopped, suddenly overtaken by a vision of a pale face outlined by contrastingly dark hair, a face with fierce green eyes. "I think she had... green eyes, and black hair. Very black hair." The Elder nodded. "That is good. You see, you move forward even when it seems you are standing still. Indeed, even when you truly are doing nothing but being still, you can accomplish much. When the body is still and the mind calm, you will find yourself amazed what the spirit is capable of." Merri sighed. "Like the mind-speaking, I suppose. A subtle hint, but one that I understand. I will keep trying." "Do not sound so sad. It is as I have said, your time spent in effort has not been wasted. You make advances, even though they cannot yet be seen." "I do not mean to change the subject rapidly, but I have an idle question." She sighed again, "Idle questions seem the only ones that have answers, of late." She looked up at the Elder, "Not that I am suggesting that you haven't answered me as best you can, of course. I would indeed be showing a shameful lack of gratitude to do that. You have told me all that you know." She spoke with such simple faith in her words that the Elder briefly felt a pang of guilt for hiding the truth from her, though he did so, strange as it seemed, at her own request. "Ask your question, child. I do not mind." "How old are you? I know it sounds silly to ask, but," she shrugged, "It's strange the things the mind finds to dwell on, isn't it?" The Elder laughed his parched laugh again. "I am old. Ancient, as you humans say." He seemed to grow distant, slightly less tangible and earthly. "I am older than years, older than the numbering of years, or even the notice of years. I was old when the three Daughters of Evan were young and hot-tempered, when the western gods, the Children of Orial Starborne, fought and vied for the attention of their mother. I have seen vast empires and mountains rise, watched them crumble and fall, worn away or shattered. I have seen a trickle of water, barely a stream, make vast pits in stone through the slow work of centuries. I have lived in this plane since my people were drawn here from the Light, since just after the strife of gods brought Chaos, and its close cousin, Life, into being. "My children and the children of my children seem to outnumber the very stars, and I have seen too many of them die, killed by a legion of diverse enemies; famine, war, hatred, ignorance, bigotry, and all too often the slow, wasting agony of grief. The years have passed in their thousands and their hundreds of thousands, but even now I can see the faces of my dead as clearly as when they lived, more clearly even than those I see before me. I have been patient, so very patient, but when will my time come? My kind were woven but lately and clumsily into the cloth that is the history of this land. Is my thread to be one than hangs, uncut, from the edge of the tapestry? Is mine the thread that unravels the whole work?" He stop talking, and they sat there in silence for some time. Finally, the old elf focused his eyes on Merri again. "You must forgive me my wandering attention, but to ask such as I my age... such a thing invites a reminiscence that is perhaps best avoided. To think on all the things that have happened in my life... That is an undertaking so long as to give even such as I a reason to hesitate. But look, I have talked away the day, and your kind grows tired so quickly. The time for our speaking is over for today, I think. Go, and may you not need to hunt for sleep. Perhaps tonight you will remember something." "Perhaps," Merri said, rising and stifling a yawn, "'Till the morrow, then." She bowed and left, Ailuros up and at her side in a second. Her dreams that night were many, and strange. Memory blurred with fantasy, and often it was difficult to tell the one from the other. Her first such dream began with her but a very small child, lying alone in her bed, staring at the ceiling and trying her best to ignore her mother's angry voice in the kitchen, giving the sharp edge of her tongue to her sister... her older sister, older by some two years, and old enough, as her mother yelled, to know better. Why, the poor dog liked her well enough anyway, so what cause did she have trying to ensorcel it? Her sister--Alys, her sister's name was Alys, though she sometimes had trouble saying it if she got too excited, the 'l' got in the way and sent her young tongue tripping over itself--her sister was crying, practically wailing, but Merri didn't really mind that she couldn't get to sleep. At the moment, she was just glad nobody was angry with her, and she wanted desperately to stop hearing her mother's shouting, because she knew it was wrong to listen to people when they thought they were alone. She'd been whacked good for that not two days before, and in the mood her mother was in she didn't want a second dose. But more than that, Merri was suddenly sad, very sad for something... but she didn't recall quite what. It felt like there was something missing, something not where it should be. She soon realized that it was her dog, her faithful Cartis, who by then should have been curled up asleep at her feet. She fell asleep wondering where the dog could have gotten itself to, still denying in her heart the grayed, half-dead thing she'd found in the yard that afternoon, trying pitifully to thump it's tail as she approached. Shortly thereafter she relived her aunt's birthday feast, and the incident with the mice. Her mother had lain into them for misbehaving when she had them home again, Merri catching trouble mostly by association, though the cake she'd stuffed in her pocket didn't help to please her mother in the least. She could tell that her sister was angry, but she couldn't understand why. All she'd done was play with the mouse, after all! But still, her sister was furious with her, and her older sister could make trouble for her when she wished to. After that, she had a hazy dream of trolls and deamons, of Ailuros and a strange woman saving her, but that dream faded to nothingness as soon as it was over, swept aside by the more vivid reality of her next dream. In it, she found herself slightly older, sent to spend her time with the priests at the temple of Evan. At first she was too awed by the holiness and solemn air of the temple to get into any mischief, but that soon changed. Alys had already spent her time with the Order, and she told Merri everything there was to know before she left. Merri, trusting child that she was, believed every word. She soon found herself toting water and dusting slates as much as learning her lessons, as punishment for the many disastrous pranks she pulled, like her attempt to sneak a small pastry to her bed. Oddly, the priest were coming by at exactly the time Alys said they would be most distracted, and the pastries were not as unguarded as she'd been led to believe. Merri, still young enough that she placed unthinking faith in her elder sister, assumed that the priests must have changed their habits just after Alys left... and no wonder, considering the stories she told of her stay there. She was just being sent to the Warder's chambers when the dream mercifully faded. She woke the next morning feeling almost as tired as when she'd gone to sleep, which was, considering her dreams, not completely surprising. She told the Elder the things she'd remembered, and he commented that her memory would likely return in such a manner, in great disjointed blocks. She spent the day trying again to reach out with her thoughts to the Elder, but with very little success. However, luck was with her in a different way, for as she sat silently concentrating, thoughts and associations floated up in her mind, fleeting fragments of memory, vague impressions passing through her attention. Sometimes the returning memories were just things she suddenly knew, and other times she lived the events again, caught up in the flood of remembered past. She remembered the dark of the cellar, sent there on an errand, and felt the confidence of knowing that she no longer feared it--though it was but a few years previous that she had held it in terror--and remembered the wonderful smell of damp earth, dust, mold, and her mother's spices, all mixed together. She remembered her brief but heart- breaking infatuation with a young boy, the blacksmith's son. She remembered spending half her time dreaming over his delicately handsome face, a stark but pleasant contrast to his body of rippling strength, earned from many days at the bellows and the forge, and the other half with her mother chiding her for day-dreaming when there was work to be done. Despite her sister's occasional protests to the contrary, her mother showed no favoritism, and laziness quickly brought her all-too-often harsh tongue upon the offender. She remembered getting an understanding of magic from Yarrow, the wizard's ward, who, in later years, would teach her in other matters as well. She remembered her father returning home for almost a week, one of the longest visits he ever made, and the small practice-swords he'd brought for her and her sister. He taught his daughters to dance with iron, years before they'd think of dancing with men, and they learned well. Alysia, as with most things, had a natural talent for it, and she was soon terrorizing her sister in their practicing. Driven by the stinging welts the slender metal wands left on her skin and, more importantly, her pride, she pestered her father for every lesson and trick he knew, until by the end of the week it was Alys who left the practice crying. Thus it was in most things between the sisters; Alys attained a moderate level of skill with ease, and gave her younger, slightly slower, sister such grief that she forced herself to excellence, leaving Alys jealous and resentful. Instead of learning her sister's persistence, which would truly have made her supreme in every field, she instead gave up as soon as Merri surpassed her, moving on to find some new thing in which to outshine her sister. There was but one exception; magic. Alys had such natural talent that she worked sorceries practically by instinct, needing little help from the tutor her mother provided, seeing that, tutor or no, she would be a spell-caster. Had Alys been as talented in almost any other form of magic, her mother would probably have been delighted at her skill, but sorcery, the dark and easy path of magic, was her daughter's true delight. Yet Merri also remembered that her sister had become a Paladin, and that seemed much at odds with the early history she remembered. She was still pondering this as she returned to her tent for the night, Ailuros trailing not far behind. She hoped that her sleep would bring more of her past back to her, but her dreams, if any, were of an ordinary, uneventful sort. She didn't mind, however, as she woke the next day feeling very much refreshed. That day she had no more revelations, but she finally felt the first faint touch of the mind-speak working. As before, she sat cross-legged before the Elder, attempting to contact him with her mind, but eventually her attempt trailed off, as did her thoughts, and she found herself just sitting there, completely relaxed, not thinking of anything but enjoying the pleasant afternoon. As she sat there in contemplation of nothing, she felt a brief tug at the edges of her mind. She reached out to catch it, but it was suddenly an effort, a terrible strain. She reached out with her mind, pushing at the self-imposed boundaries of her senses, and felt a soft warm touch. 'Well done!' it wavered, 'Well done!' Then the thin, tenuous link was shattered, sending Merri's outstretched senses snapping back into her forcefully. When she opened her eyes, she found that she had a wonderful sense of accomplishment and a horrible headache. The Elder offered her some wine, and she gratefully accepted, guzzling the cool, tart liquid from the wooden bowl he set before her. "The pain is not uncommon." he said, "But the wine seems to help. You have done much in a short time." "But I was doing it all wrong before! Why didn't you tell me?" Merri asked, her headache subsiding, replaced by a warm cloudiness. "Because you were making good mistakes, and the time was well spent." "Good mistakes?" Merri asked, curious. "A good mistake is a mistake that you learn from. Through your mistakes you found the correct method." "Isn't there some other way to learn? It seems so... so random." "In a way it very much is random, but there is no better way to learn. Indeed, almost all that has been done by intelligent hands has been done in this manner. You think a moment about what it is you wish to do, then you do it. When you fail, as inevitably you sometimes will, then you take what has worked and you try again. If in what you have done there is nothing that works, then you begin anew." "But that sounds like it could take forever!" "Indeed it could. There are reasons, I think, that it is so. Better to learn from your mistakes and find discipline from your efforts than to have knowledge given to you untempered by wisdom, for such is a source of great danger. Take magic as your example. Those who seek knowledge and power in wisdom find their way complicated and difficult, while those who simply seek power and knowledge as a goal find their way with ease. For everything there is a price, however, and the lust for power is all-consuming, as poor Elianthanis learned." "Elianthanis? Who's he?" The Elder smiled, sensing that the time was right to tell his tale. "Ah, Elianthanis. My best and worst pupil." Merri saw that this was going to be a long story, and settled back to listen. "Since he was able to stir from the arms of his maker, he was among the best of the Quicklings of our tribe. As soon as he was able to grasp a quill, he would scratch ideas in the dirt, or on scraps of cloth. He grew to be strong and tall, and I soon discovered that he had a skill in magic that was unparalleled among the Quicklings. Perhaps this was his downfall. He was always inquisitive, more even than his Quickling brethren, more so even than his older tribesmen, the Seekers. He was always most interested in hearing tales of the Old World, but he never accepted my answers to his questions of why we could not return. When he was but five decades old, and barely that, he began to go on private treks into the surrounding jungle. The first time he left in such a manner was after he attempted to incite me to argument about the Old World, his favorite subject. After I refused to show any signs of being displeased with this world, he ran into the jungle, and was not seen again for a few weeks. When he returned, he was not the same. His skin was a golden shade, instead of the faint pale color he had possessed. Even his hair was different. Whereas it had been almost white, it was now barely blond at all. When asked how he had come to be this way, he said that he found a group of humans, who took him to one of their secret places. He said that he saw a great light, such as one rarely sees in the undergrowth, and all became clear to him. He claimed that his new coloring was the result of basking in this great, warm light. He said that he understood my point of view, and that he would not get angry again. The promises of a Quickling are soon forgotten, so I paid little attention to this. It proved to be true, however, and he never argued with me again. He did, however, repeat his journeys through the dense woodlands around us, and after a time, other Quicklings and even a few Seekers joined him. When they returned, they brought tales similar to that of Elianthanis, and they were all a darker shade. "This had only been going on for a few short decades when Elianthanis discovered a couple of adventurous humans, seeking the Six Stones of the Gods. They, like so many, had been led to believe that one of the Stones was here. Elianthanis brought them to me, and a time of festival commenced, in honor of our guests. I sensed a latent psionic skill in the girl, and tried to convince her to remain and study with us, but she would not be deterred from her quest. I attempted to warn her about playing the games of the dieties, but she refused to heed my advice. Elianthanis approached her, and told her that he knew how to find what she sought, and she, her companion, and Elianthanis vanished into the jungle. She returned alone from the mountains, and I could sense that she had found what she was seeking, for her body was outlined in a shining white aura. She handed me a bundle, and I unwrapped it. It was the Navian Blade, one of the most cursed of objects. I told her that I would keep it, until the time when she would need it. She looked surprised, but she did not speak. Humans often believe that we have the ability to see the future, because we can so often tell events in advance, but this is not true. When you have lived for countless centuries, seen empires rise and fall, and witnessed the birth of the world, you, too, will learn to recognize the paths mortals will follow. I could see that she would some day return, but that now was not the proper time for her to tell what had transpired. As Elianthanis did not return, I came to know what happened from what the girl told us." The elder switched from Elven to Eol Common, and his entire manner changed as he quoted, "'We left in the night, to avoid lengthy explanations. I apologize for my rudeness, but at the time, I did not wish to be patient, and your ways often seem... needlessly elaborate to humans, as you well know. Elianthanis led us on a long trek through the forest, to the base of a mountain. He took us to the sealed gate to the dwarven warrens, and explained to us that there was no entry by that door. He then led us to a small cave, hidden by dense bushes, which connected at it's farthest end to one of the inner passages. It seems likely to me, from the nature of the opening, that the dwarves didn't connect the passage to the cave intentionally. It probably opened later, as the result of some disturbance. He led us inside, and down several winding corridors, until we met another group moving in the opposite direction. The group was mostly made up of elves, who looked like Elianthanis, but there were other things there, too, things that looked like they should be elves, but weren't. Their skin was gray as ash, and their eyes burned with a feverish glow. The dark ones made strange hissing noises, and the largest looked at us and licked his lips. He opened his mouth and even in the dim torch-light we could see his jagged teeth. The elves tried to hold the dark ones back, but they easily broke away and ran toward us. Elianthanis laughed, and grabbed Marse. "'This one is all I will need. My lady, I leave you to the tender mercies of my cousins.' and he ran down a side passage that I hadn't noticed. I was going to run after him, but the largest elf-thing caught up with me first. He was strong, and he soon had me pressed against the wall, though he had a few marks to show for his trouble. He began muttering strange sounds in a thick, halting voice, and I think he tried to use a necromantic spell on me. I'm not sure though, because my hand flew up of it's own accord, and slapped his forehead. The symbol on my hand flared up again, so brightly this time that I could see the glow through my hand, showing the dark outline of my bones. The creature before me didn't scream, didn't make any noise, just fell to the ground and stayed there. I waited for the burning in my hand to subside, and the glow to die down. It didn't. I faced the others, and raised my hand in warning. They all gaped in horror and ran back down the corridor from which they came. Still my hand didn't stop glowing. I guessed that the pain would stop of it's own accord when it was ready to, so I started to head down the passage Elianthanis had taken. Suddenly, something large and black dropped from the ceiling above me. I held my hand up, and the glow illuminated the most unholy creature I have ever laid eyes on. It looked quite a bit like a spider, except that no spider I know of grows that big, or has a human looking head with pointed ears. The creature hissed and drooled, and I knew that I had to kill it, if only to put it out of its misery. It rushed to attack me, and I laid my hand full upon it's head. The damn thing nearly took my arm off when it tried to bite me. I was surprised that the glow didn't destroy this creature as it had the other, but I quickly switched to other methods, and drew my sword. The creature was fast, but not too smart, and I soon parted it's head from it's body. It bled black ichor, which bubbled and hissed as it hit the stone floor. "I carefully stepped over it's body, which was still twitching, and continued down the passage. Fortunately, the passage was surprisingly direct, with no side-tunnels, at least none that I noticed, so there was no question of taking a wrong turn. After several minutes of walking, I arrived at a large central cavern. I looked around, and found Elianthanis waiting in a pool of light, which streamed down from a small hole far above in the ceiling of the cavern. He was standing in the center of a large pattern, identical to the mark on my hand, and he had Marse beside him, unstruggling. I suddenly recognized the cavern as the setting of my dream, and there in the center of the pattern was the dagger, just as I'd seen in my dreams. Instead of a medalion, however, the other end of the figure held the Stone. Elianthanis, with his keen elven sight, noticed my arrival. '"I see you made it past my cousins. I am afraid that you are too late, my dear." He held up his arm, and I saw a large scabbed over slash, and I noticed a similar slash on Marse's arm. Elianthanis kept talking, "As you see, I have linked my life to that of your friend here. With every life I sacrifice to the stone, I grow more powerful, and more mortal. I shall give the gift of mortality to my people, and they will hail me as their savior. Oh, some of them, like the stupid village elder,"--I do beg your pardon sir, but that's what he said--"may object. But the majority will rejoice. All it takes is this crystal, and a dozen or so human lives. It really does have to be human lives, you see. I tried dwarves, letting some of my cousins sacrifice them, but that worked poorly indeed.' I guessed that he was talking about those gray things, or maybe the spider- creature. "Still, they did become mortal, after a sort, although given enough lives they could conceivably stay alive indefinitely. Odd, don't you think, that after becoming nearly mortal they should suddenly want to live longer?" I moved toward him, and he motioned for me to stay where I was. "My dear, you can't kill me. I told you, he and I are linked. If you kill me, you kill him as well, and I honestly don't think you'll do that." After he said that, Marse opened his eyes again, and I saw there all the pain he'd been hiding. I was told later about his lady, and how she was killed. I never knew, he hid it so well. '"He's right," Marse said, "You won't kill him. I will!" and he snatched the dagger off the ground, and stabbed Elianthanis with it. Elianthanis clutched his wounded chest, and actually had the nerve to thank him. He smiled, said "Forgive me," and died. Marse fell down, clutching his chest, and the dagger fell from his hand. The Stone blazed with new light, which lanced out to bathe him in a hazy mist. He stopped clutching his chest, and lay on the ground, unmoving. I ran over to him, and found that he was dead, with no heartbeat, and not breathing. I knelt beside his body and wept for his sacrifice. It was worse than I thought, however, because he didn't remain dead for very long. 'After what seemed like hours, he opened his eyes, and stood. I scrambled away from him, knowing that the undead know no friendship. He retrieved the dagger, ripped a large section of his robe off, and wrapped the dagger in the cloth. He handed the dagger to me, and told me to take it to you, said you'd know what to do with it. He just looked at me for a moment, then smiled a little half-smile. "I have things I must attend to before we meet again. Our paths diverge, but I'll catch up with you." he said, and then he walked off into a dark passage, where gods know what could have been waiting. 'Confused, I went to get the Stone. I entered the shaft of light, and picked up the stone, and suddenly I was awash in power! I felt the energy surge over me, expanding outward to fill the corridor. The sunlight striking the crystal became a beam of intense, blinding light, which lanced out in all directions. I heard screams as it dazed the creatures of darkness it had created. I felt the power of the crystal washing my mind and will away, and I quickly dropped it into a pocket of my robe. The feeling of power faded, leaving me with an empty feeling, like I'd lost something wonderful. My hand glowed white still after touching the crystal, although this time the feeling was not painful, and I used this light to find my way back out. I then returned to your village, and the rest you know. I should have listened to you, and to Marse. I am sorry, Ancient One.'" When he was done he brought out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle, and presented it to her. "This is the Navian Blade, of which I spoke. You have returned for it, as I knew you would." Merri was most surprised. "Then... the woman in your story... that was me?" "Yes. I thought it best to wait until you began to remember on your own before I told you. I drew the description of events from your mind." Merri nodded, yawning. "I understand. But why give this to me? I thought it was--how did you put it?--'The most evil thing in all of Creation'?" "Ah, but things are never truly good or evil except in their use and the power you give to them. The evil of this blade is not the thing itself, but the dark force animating it. Thus, I have reshaped it, and I give it to you. Where before it was the Navian Blade, now I think perhaps it should be called Starblade." He unwrapped the cloth and showed her the ebony dagger, which was now flecked with small sparkling points of light, seeming to be a cloudless reflection of the night sky. "Its curse will not tempt you, but it is a repository of great power yet. When you leave, I think you might have need of it." Merri accepted the gift with nodded thanks. A short while later the strong wine had finished it's work, and she was nodding again, this time in drowsiness. The Elder sent her once again to her tent, his gift in hand. When she was gone, the Elder smiled to find his hand covered in the glitter-dust he'd coated the Navian Blade with. Apparently the sticky sap he'd used to adhere it hadn't held quite as well in some places as in others. He shrugged. So long as she believed, it made no difference. The next day she found herself unable to repeat her earlier feat. The Elder chided her gently. "You have already forgotten the lesson you learned yesterday. There is an old fable, common to your people, which tells of a quarrel between the brothers of Light and Darkness. Nave, because he had a violent heart, believed himself stronger than his gentler brother, and sought to prove it. They had many contests between them, but Nave could not prove himself the stronger, and when they looked down from the skies above, they beheld an old dwarf, struggling under a bag of ore, covered in an old cloak. Nave challenged his brother, wagering that he could get the cloak from the old dwarf and make him drop his ore. Evan agreed to let him try. Nave brought the cold north winds to bear on the unfortunate dwarf, and very nearly blew the dwarf away, ore, cloak, and all. But the dwarf was a stubborn fellow, even among his own folk, and he just pulled his cloak around himself tighter and leaned into the wind. For an hour, at least, the dwarf battled the wind, until Nave finally gave up. But Nave was impressed with the dwarf, and he was certain that his brother could not coerce him into removing the cloak or setting down the ore. But Evan swept the clouds aside, and his mighty light shone down upon the dwarf. He sent the spring birds to sing, and caused sweet-smelling flowers to bloom in the meadows and vales along the road. Soon the dwarf grew hot, and began to look from his heavy load to the inviting meadows. He gave in to the temptation, carefully laying his ore and cloak aside to lay in the sweet grass and listen to the birds sing. Thus, you see, the moral is that the most obvious effort is not always the most effective." The elf paused for a moment, as though considering something. "Some say that there is more to the fable. The dwarf was swallowed by the earth, because of the wrath Nave showed at his defeat. He was tormented and twisted, and made into the first goblin. Thus, the second moral; In a contest between gods, mortals are never the victors. Of course, all this is mere fable and folklore." He saw that she was still listening dutifully, but she'd lost the point of his lecture long ago. He sighed. "My meaning is that you should not try so hard. Think on what happened yesterday, and you will understand." Merri nodded and closed her eyes again. Instead of trying to force her concentration, she relaxed, turning her attention first to the feeling of the air around her and the ground beneath her, and then allowing it to wander where it would. It was hours later when she found herself in the middle of a conversation with the Elder, though she'd not spoken a word. As soon as she became aware of it, however, it again became a struggle, to think about what she wanted to say and then send it, all the while keeping her mind open to receive the Elder's thoughts. She managed slightly better than the last time, realizing that her endurance was at it's limits and severing the connection voluntarily, more gently than the shattering of before. Still, she had a headache again, though a mild one. What was more frustrating, however, was that she couldn't for the life of her remember what she'd been mind-speaking to the Elder. "Um... I know this may sound strange, but what did I say to you?" The Elder chuckled. "Everything you thought, you sent to me. You have a most poetic heart, Merrideth Doomslayer, and elegant thoughts." "What did I think of? I don't recall." "That is also not unusual. You have learned to empty your mind and receive my thoughts, and to send your thoughts back to me, but when you empty your mind you lose all sense of time, of self. That is very much a beautiful thing, most difficult for a mortal. For the time that it lasted, you were free of worry for the past or the future." "And that is a great thing? I don't understand." "It is almost elven philosophy, my dear child. There is a saying that I have grown fond of, though oddly it was a mortal man that spoke it. Ah, but such a mortal he was! He was twice blessed; Once by being born mortal and second by not realizing it. He said: "No matter the hour, the day, the year, or the age, all time is Now." So it was with you, for a brief time. There are those of the great creatures of magic that exist totally in this way. They live by instinct, having neither memory nor conception of the future, merely enjoying life as it happens. Soon you will learn to mind-speak without using all of your mind at once, and the need for the emptiness will pass. You may find, however, that while the need passes, the desire for the emptiness remains. It is a good thing, if not misused." Merri nodded, though the thought of leaving herself so open was a frightening one. Thus the days passed quickly. There were many storms, though it was not the season for them, which sometimes sent some of the less secure tents swinging and twirling in the branches, but which the elves otherwise showed little concern for. Merri's flashes of remembrance gradually diminished as her memory became more complete, but she found that she still could not remember how she'd come to the island, or fill in certain areas of her youth. However, she soon began to feel whole again, or at the very least less like her mind was a sieve. She began learning the mind- touch, and after that the mind-fire. She learned to hone her instincts and grasp knowledge from the flow of information around her, so that it seemed she could see what was happening a half-moment before it occurred. The elves provided her with an old, slightly rusted sword, which she polished and sharpened until it seemed almost to shine of its own accord, not just from the reflected light of the sun. With this, she practiced as her father had shown her all those years ago, parry, thrust, parry, dancing with the bright metal against an invisible opponent. Throughout these labors, Ailuros was her constant companion, as always, the sight of his black fur and the feel of his gentle, savage mind a comfort. By the end of the next week, she found herself admitting that the Elder had been right. While she no longer truly needed to have the emptiness of mind to work the mind-powers, she found herself seeking an hour of quiet and peace each night, but she knew that she was vulnerable while enjoying this luxury. She spoke to the Elder, who had anticipated her concerns. The next day, he began teaching her the fine art of shielding herself, first mentally and then, more laboriously, physically. He taught her to visualize everything at first, to picture in her mind what she wanted, so that she could obtain a finer degree of control. When he taught her shielding, she imagined a shining silver wall around herself, a bright place of peace and solitude. Later, as she became more skilled at shaping her images, she expanded the wall, so that it encircled a large field, with thick, soft grass to sit on. Soon the Elder had her pushing the walls outward, simultaneously expanding her physical and super-physical perceptions and forming a barrier around herself with the mind-touch. The mind-touch was a difficult thing to master, requiring much concentration to even lightly brush across a thing near her, and forming the barrier around herself proved problematic. When she finally managed it, though, she was well rewarded, for the field rapidly became an extension of her normal body, and she found that it had a multitude of uses. Meanwhile, she began to remember her quest, and the events that led up to her departure from that quest. She blushed with shame as she remembered the way she'd treated Marse, but she found that she still could not recall anything afterward. She remembered now the rush of power, overwhelming her rational thoughts, and she remembered rising into the air, and flying at incredible speeds. But she didn't recall where she'd flown, or why, or how she'd come to be wandering the forests. When she asked the Elder, he merely shrugged and told her that the time leading to whatever had caused her to lose her wits would likely be a mystery for a long while yet. He did, however, offer to help her regain the other parts of her lost memory, for there was no reason that they should yet elude her. She agreed, and opened her mind to his touch. All she felt there was a small laugh. "No, no," he said, when he sensed her confusion, "I will help you, as I said. I was laughing at the readiness you show to open yourself. There was a time not long ago when such a thing would have struck you with horror." She shrugged. Things had changed. "But, I will not help you in that way. You should know that well enough by now. I will not do for you what I can teach you to do for yourself." Inwardly, Merri groaned, seeing more rigorous training sessions ahead. She was most correct, as it turned out. The Elder had her visualize her memory as a vast library, and then sent her to track down obscure information. She found that, with practice, the information came more quickly, until it seemed as though there was no time spent searching at all. The Elder then explained that there were pages, chapters, perhaps entire books missing from the library, jarred from the shelves and hidden away in dusty corners. He told her that she must search the library in her mind, and he warned her that many of the things she found in those dusty corners would be unpleasant. Then he surprised her by bidding her farewell. "What? But... I've barely even begun to learn the things you've set me to, and I still don't remember everything!" "That is true, most especially the first, but the time has come for our parting. It will take you much time to get to where you must go. Your training will continue itself without my guidance." The ancient, pale elf stood slowly and stiffly, and bowed to her. "Merrideth Doomslayer, you have the knowledge you need to guide yourself. To remain with me would be a hindrance. You have just begun to learn, it is true, but you are a child no more. Arise, Seeker, for your days as a Quickling are over." Merri nodded, slowly. "How much you have changed, youngling. Not long ago, you would have rushed off, glad to be free of my long- windedness." Merri felt her face grow slightly warm at the memory. "No, youngling, you need not be embarrassed. You have grown much since then." 'Yes,' came a thought from Ailuros, listening in at Merri's side, 'And I have grown... grown very, very weary of being here. Come on, golden one, let us leave while we can!' The Elder broke out laughing, for once not the dry cough that he usually gave, but a deeper, more solid sound, as his entire body shook with mirth. Ailuros hadn't realized that the Elder had been listening to their mind- speak, and his caught expression was so amusing that Merri joined the Elder in laughing. The panther looked from one to the other in disgust for a moment. 'Oh, Hells,' the panther sent, after watching them laugh, 'I guess it is a little bit funny.' His laughter echoed through their minds as theirs echoed through the forest.