The enemy has been pushed back… for now. But the Outland King is gathering a huge force against her. Now, before I send you through, you must understand this, Caswallon: We will meet again on the other side of the Gate. Ask me nothing of the events that are transpiring now. Do not speak of the Aenir invasion.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Taliesen sighed. ‘Trust me, Caswallon. In other … realities … our meeting beyond the Gate has already taken place. Many times. And I have found it disadvantageous to view the possible futures. It all becomes too confusing.’
Caswallon stood silently for a moment, then his green gaze fastened on the druid’s dark eyes. ‘And I have died in these other realities?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ admitted Taliesen. ‘Do you still wish to go?’
‘Can we win if I do not?”
‘No.’
‘Then let us go.’
Taliesen pressed a button on the screen and the image of the city disappeared. He stood and led Caswallon back to the Druids’ Hall and the black-arched Gate.
Maeg was waiting there. She stood as he approached, opening her arms, and Caswallon walked into her embrace.
She kissed him, her eyes wet with tears. ‘The world has changed, as you said it would,’ she told him.
‘We’ll change it back.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she said sadly. ‘Even if you beat the Aenir, nothing will ever be quite the way it was.’
He did not argue. Instead he kissed her. ‘There is one constant fact, Maeg. I love you. I always have. I always will.’
‘I have something for you,’ she said, pulling away from him. Turning, she lifted a buckskin shirt from the back of a chair. The skin was soft and beige while on the chest, in crimson-stained leather, was a cunningly-crafted hawk with wings spreading to each shoulder. ‘If you are to meet a Queen, it is fitting you look your best,’ she said.
Caswallon slipped out of his woollen shirt, donning the bucksin. The fit was perfect.
Leofas stepped from the shadows with Maggrig.
‘Are you sure about this plan, Caswallon?’ he asked.
‘No,’ admitted the War Lord. ‘But Taliesen is, and I can think of no other.’
Then may the gods guide you.’ The two men shook hands.
Taliesen walked to the archway, lifted his hands and began to chant. The view of the Farlain vanished, to be replaced instantly by a sloping plain and a distant city.
Maggrig curled his arm around Maeg’s shoulder. ‘He will come back,’ he said.
Caswallon stepped into the archway – and vanished.
Suddenly the view from the Gate disappeared, a blank grey wall replacing it. Maeg moved forward and touched the cold stone.
Caswallon found himself in a forest glade in the last hour before dusk. Shafts of sunlight lanced the branches of mighty oaks and birds sang in every tree.
But there was no city in sight. Perplexed, he stepped back to where the Gate had been.
It was gone . . .
Cursing he drew his short sword and started prodding the air, seeking the entrance. After a few minutes he gave up and sat back on a jutting tree root. He was loath to leave the spot, and had no idea what plan to pursue.
His thoughts were broken by the sounds of shouting. Looking around him, he marked the spot in his mind and set off towards the sound. Perhaps the Gate had merely sent him too far, and he had come out on the other side of the city. He seemed to recall seeing a wood there.
The shouts became triumphant, and Caswallon guessed the men to be hunters who had cornered their prey. Then a voice cried out. ‘Lord of Heaven, aid your servant!’
Caswallon broke into a run. Ahead of him three men had surrounded a bald, elderly man in robes of grey who was holding a tightly-wrapped bundle in his arms.
‘Surrender it, priest,’ ordered a tall man in a red cape.
‘You cannot do this,’ said the old man. ‘It is against the laws of man and God.’
The red-caped warrior stepped forward, a bright sword in his hand. The sword flashed forward. The old man twisted the bundle away from the blade, which lanced into his belly. He screamed and fell.