‘It is not easy for me to explain it to you, Gaelen. When I reached the Chalice Gate I was filled with fear. A dying monk told me the Gate was not closed, yet I could see for myself that it was. The cave was shallow and water dripped from the walls. I walked forward, sick with dread, and reached out. My hand passed through the stone as though through smoke. I walked on, and found myself on a plain overlooking a city of golden turrets and tall towers of polished marble.
‘A man was waiting for me. His name was Astole and he greeted me like a brother, for I had saved his life in another place. He took me to his home – a palace with many servants – and there he began to instruct me in the Gates and the words of power to manipulate them. I was filled with terrible impatience, but he promised he could return me to within seconds of my departure. And I had to trust him.
The years passed slowly. Sometimes I would be filled with joy at my new-found knowledge and dream of exacting a terrible revenge on the Aenir. At other times I felt an awful dread, wondering if I had been tricked. But always I learned. Impossibility made reality. You have seen the stone that attracts iron?’
‘Yes. Onic has one.’
The force that pulls the metal cannot be seen, but its effects can be observed. It is the same with the power behind the Gates. Let me show you something.’ Caswallon lifted a small box set with coloured stones. He pressed the ruby at the centre and the far wall darkened, then became a window overlooking the Farlain.
‘As you can see, that is the mountain of Carduil on the borders of Haesten territory. That is now. We can see that image as the light is reflected to our eyes. Had we been here yesterday, we would have seen rain over Carduil. But we were not. Yet the image was still transmitted. Astole discovered that light images linger, leaving traces that can last ten thousand years. Hence, with the turn of a dial, we can see . . .’ The screen shimmered and the mountain appeared once more, cloud-covered and dull, sheeting rain pounding the slopes. Caswallon pressed a stone and the image disappeared.
‘Astole made machines that could trace the Lines of Time, allowing man to view his own past. But then the greatest excitement of all. Within the traces Astole discovered particles of matter that did not deteriorate. Unchanging, they existed from day to day, from century to century. They were unaffected by the passing of time. Indeed, they seemed to exist outside time’s laws.
‘During his experiments Astole trapped several particles within a field of force – similar to that which works the stone that attracts iron. The field and the particles disappeared without trace. Astole constructed another and suddenly the first field reappeared, but the second vanished. The following day he constructed a third field, and the same thing happened. Excited beyond his experience, Astole made plans for two large fields, preparing his assistants beforehand. He placed himself at the centre of the first field and activated it. He vanished instantly. His assistants, following his instructions, activated the second field and he reappeared. The particles had drawn him into a distant past. How, he did not know, but he had stumbled on the greatest discovery of them all, the Gates.’
‘I don’t understand any of this, Caswallon,’ said Gaelen.
‘I’m sorry, my boy. How can I tell you in minutes that which has taken a decade of my life? Anyway, I stayed with Astole, and I absorbed his knowledge. Together we journeyed to fabulous cities and kingdoms lost to the memory of man. We walked the Time Lines, seeing the births of civilisations and the deaths of empires. Finally he judged me ready and we journeyed to a desert, and there I met the man to answer all questions. As he spoke I felt my heart emptied and refilled. All dreams of vengeance died. Violence was washed from me.’
‘Who was he?’ asked the clansman.