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way to help forge, in turn, the First King of Tulan - Darian. He was an
important part of my own future goals and plans - and without him, the very
tool I had used to forge you, Vayanar, would eventually have destroyed you
millennia later, before your own forging was complete. Thus, I reached into
the past again, and whispered into the dreams of the Great Mage Hyarlanoth,
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telling him how to forge the Skull which you eventually bore - whose
enchantment, millennia later, would allow you to survive your own forging, and
lock you in a form which could not curse the revived Hyperborean race with
congenital idiocy or any number of other problems. Of course, we haven't even
touched upon the various alliances I was forced to make among the gods of the
giants, the elves and the dwarves, nor have we even mentioned the alliances
Morgar made with the gods of the goblins, hob-goblins, ogres and trolls - all
to bring you and Cordo together, at that moment in time, under those
conditions."
My mind boggled. Yorindar discussed layers upon layers of intricately woven
plans with an ease that suggested he was only brushing the surface of it all.
Truly, no mortal mind could completely comprehend the process by which the
gods waged war across the Arc of Time - there was simply too much, all of it
related in intricate and often obscure ways.
"Exactly," Yorindar replied, reading my thoughts.
I sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry. You didn't lie to me... And I agree with your
choice. But..."
"Yes?"
"Well... Now what? What happens now?"
"Now, you build your race and your civilization anew. As you said yourself,
your people are like a phoenix, arisen from the ashes. Build your race and
your civilization, Eddas - for someday, my next match will begin, and you will
be needed."
"But... But the children... They will still have to come to me! I am like a
father to them!"
"Yes, you are. And yet, you are not. But that result will not happen, either,
Eddas - you will simply have to trust me on this, as paradox prevents me from
telling you why. More importantly, however, you must cease your moralizing
about them, Eddas. You said yourself that like the reborn phoenix, your race
arises different than it was before. Do not curse your race with guilt over
the very method they use to reproduce, Eddas. You will curse your race with
eternal unhappiness and misery, and eventual extinction."
I nodded. I realized myself two decades ago that, in a thousand years,
Hyperboreans would probably be known and respected throughout the world as
powerful and skilled sorceresses, more powerful than even the elves, and
rivaling the skill and knowledge of even the elder dragons. They would
probably no longer even be considered human, but would, instead, appear to be
some eldritch race... Akin to the elves, perhaps, but without males, like
dryads, naiads, gorgons or lamias. Vyleah would have her followers, a race of
healers, and would slowly recover her strength as the centuries passed. In
time, with the Hyperboreans as their allies, the Larinians would, eventually,
establish the "Golden Kingdom" of Yorindar's prophecy.
"Exactly," Yorindar said, sensing my thoughts.
I gazed at Yorindar. Despite everything he had said, I still could not shake a
feeling of anger. "You could un-do all this. You've won. You could go back,
change back all the things you changed before, restore my race, my
civilization, my beloved-"
"No, I cannot, Eddas. Paradox prevents me from restoring that which I have
once changed. All the gods are similarly limited. Any act we take is, in that
regard, like the act of a mortal. Once done, it cannot be un-done. Just as you
cannot take back the arrow you have fired or the words you have spoken, we
cannot take back the movement of even the smallest grain of sand. It would be
a paradox, and would crack the Arc of Time and bring the universe to an end."
"But-"
"No, Eddas. I can see in your mind that you conceive of my initially reaching
back into the past as being paradox. But, to a god, it is not. We exist beyond
the mortal considerations of time. But, as I told you seven decades ago, we
are merely gods, we are not the Creator. We are limited. What I have done, I
cannot un-do. All I can do is try to make the best choices I can, just as any
mortal might in their life."
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"But why?! To what end?! What is the purpose of all this?!"
"You already know the answer to that. My goal is Tulan. In that kingdom, all
races will live in happiness, peace and prosperity," Yorindar replied, then
tipped his owl-head, as though smiling. "But that future is not assured quite
yet. There is still an enormous amount of work to be done, Eddas - and both
you and your people are a part of it."
"There is still one promise you made to me you have not fulfilled. You said I
would see my beloved again. All your plans... Everything... It all requires
me. And if you don't at least fulfill that promise, you can damn well bet I'm
not going through with any of it!"
"Think carefully, Eddas... Are you certain this is what you want?"
"Very certain," I replied firmly.
"So be it," the owl replied, blinking slowly. "Go home, Eddas. Return to your
tower. Then, when you have had your wish, end your mourning. We've a great
deal of work ahead, starting sooner than you think. You'll need to be prepared
for it." And with that, Yorindar took off with a flap of nearly-silent wings,
rising higher and higher into the sky, until he vanished.
I rose to my feet, my heart bursting with joy. To see my beloved again! "Join
hands," I called, and took the hand of the nearest warrior. Casting my spell
of returning, I transported the lot of us into my tomb.
For many minutes thereafter, it was incredibly crowded. Eventually, however, I
got the lot of my minions to pile themselves along the northern wall in a
great heap of bone. I reasoned I might need them someday, and they would be
safe in my tomb until the time came to call upon them again.
Finally, they were all settled. I nearly stuttered in casting my spell of
returning again to take me to my tower, as I was literally trembling with
excitement and hope.
A moment later, I stood in my room at the top of my tower. I looked around,
but I was alone. The sunlight streaming in through the windows gave the room a
golden glow, but I could take no comfort in it. "Dyarzi?" I called.
"Yes?" a woman's voice called back.
My heart skipped a beat. "Dyarzi, where are you?"
"Mmm? I'm over here, why?"
I turned to the sound of the voice, and saw my mirror - the same floor-length
mirror I had received from Taliad, ages ago. Yet, instead of seeing my own
reflection inside the mirror...
...I saw Dyarzi, wearing her red dress, and gazing back out at me with an
expression of curiosity.
Chapter Thirty-Five
"As distance makes even the harshest mountain seem more beautiful, time makes
our memories more pleasant, dimming the harshest agonies to half-remembered
discomforts."
- Hyperborean proverb
I leapt to the mirror, and caressed its cool surface with an ebon-gloved hand.
"Dyarzi! My love!" I shouted, and wept. She was incredibly beautiful, just as
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