I looked over my left shoulder to see the Old Man riding along with me. Strange in that he'd talked my ear off through what seemed to be miles of tunnels carved beneath the Tor, yet he never did let slip what name he goes by. I realize now that I did most all of the answering of questions, though the number we'd each asked was about the same. I'd cut him free of what seemed a sacrificial slab of some kind -- I wasn't paying that much attention due to the hordes of vermin waiting in the shadows just outside the perimeter of my light spell -- and we returned to the boat. All that he could tell me is that he'd been trapped down there for a good long while.
He caught my eye as I looked back at him and gave a small, almost knowing smile, and began to sing the song that he'd been drunkenly warbling as I approached the altar; this time, it was with much better voice:
"Each of my sons is a living king / Tho they only reign in dreams..."
Looking back ahead, I pushed us past a fleet of strange sailing ships on the horizon and vowed to have another talk with my friend when we were in a bit more safety.
To my right was Syrana, though she, like myself, was looking back over our shoulders to see if we'd thrown off the demons pursuing us. We'd only exchanged a brief glance since this merry chase had started, and I thought about everything that I would say to her -- the trip beneath the Tor, the frantic searching that we'd gone through, the Dancing Mountains and the Wind Tamers, Embeth...
I thought about sitting down with her and telling her about Claire, and how my foolishness then destroyed everything I'd ever wanted -- and how I blamed myself for that, and that while I would help others to find their loved ones, I would never open my heart again. Of course, until I'd gotten to know Syrana. I thought about holding her in my arms for the course of an entire night, just existing with the knowledge that she was there, with me, in the darkness.
I thought about how all of the anger and rage that used to rule me burned and bubbled again deep inside me when I thought she was dead -- or even worse than that. I thought about all of the ways that I had known how to kill a man, all of the tools that were hidden deep within my cloak that had not been used in thirty-odd years.
I remembered running down along the side of the hill with the Old Man as Syrana held fiercely onto Matthias, trying to keep him from giving himself to the demon, and watching them become enveloped in the swirling cloud of Chaos that surrounded them. I remember feeling... pride in her actions, as if her courage just made me that much better for knowing her.
I looked ahead again just in time to keep us from charging right over the edge of a massive glacier, and we shifted again in a box canyon, the cliff walls so high above on either side looking as if we were underground again. It reminded me of the initial stumbling through the caverns under the Tor, and of meeting with Esheth. I figure now that I could probably have done her in myself with the right spells racked and ready to go. I wondered how much of the story of Graham the Thief that she'd bought.
I wondered if she'd made it out of the maelstrom of Chaos and demons alive.
Pushing the hellride onward, I thought of Amber and what had happened there as we were gone. It had been suggested that I work as a diplomat of sorts in talking with the Golden Circle Shadows or former Amberites. I looked forward to rebuilding the city, to making it the center of all things again. I thought of finding other members of our family and introducing them to their ancestral homeland.
I thought of making my way through the city, as I'd wanted to days ago, to work my musical magic and lift the spirits of those who'd actually stayed.
I wondered about my friends. Cecily had found herself elected into the position of Regent. How would she hold up under the weight of an endless stream of administrative tasks, ones she could not solve with sword or gun? Would Fletcher be able to exist there knowing his position was below hers? I'd joked with Shen about running for Mayor of Amber, since he'd already, in that short time, gotten to know more people there and made more friends than all of the rest of us. Would he find himself there, or would he flee to the plains he'd known all of his life? What of Stark, Merlin, Luke, Rhiannon? Could we make a difference, or were we doomed to fail, since not even our mothers and fathers could hold onto Amber, no matter what they'd sworn or promised?
And as I thought that, I looked behind me again, remembering a promise I made to a frightened girl, and I knew I could not go home until I returned to the Tor again.
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