MERDIGEN’S RETURN

Dale was pleased. The tower guardians, instead of playing games and partying, were having serious discussions about the wall and its workings. Not that she could understand it all, and not that they weren’t passing ale around now and then to, as Itharos put it, “assist in the thinking process.” They filled up scrolls with equations and drawings, made diagrams in the air with points of light, and argued theories and philosophy. At least they were doing something.

Alton had continued with his inspections and reported the wall, the section nearest the breach, was still oozing blood, sometimes more, sometimes less, and that he saw disquieting images in the cracks, usually the eyes watching him. At times it was only one pair, at others it was several. Today he’d hurried her into the wall, and he seemed more anxious than usual. She wondered what was wrong. Even her passage through the tower wall felt…tense? Stiff? Not the usual fluid sensation like passing through water but almost brittle. The wall had not trapped her this time, but she worried about her return. The mages assured her they would speak with the guardians to ensure her passage back was safe.

Dale shuddered and tried to focus on what the tower mages were talking about, but sometimes they fell into using Old Sacoridian or words from other languages she could only guess at. At times they were so incomprehensible in their discussions that she found herself dozing off. Suddenly a question rang through the tower that brought her fully awake.

“So who started the song?” Fresk demanded. “Who started the song they all sing?”

Everyone stared at him. Then a babble erupted and turned into an argument. Cleodheris was certain the Fioris had something to do with it, Winthorpe claimed it was Theanduris Silverwood, Itharos speculated it was the stonecutters themselves, and Boreemadhe was quite sure the Deyers originated the song.

“We were not there to know the origin,” a new voice said, “nor did we think to ask.”

Dale whirled in her chair and standing there in the middle of the chamber next to the tempes stone was Merdigen with his pack on his back and his staff at hand. Two others were with him, a long-bearded, solemn fellow and a wispy woman with leaves in her hair.

When the tower guardians saw them, they dropped what they were doing and exclaimed in delight. Even Cleodheris smiled and float-walked over in her ethereal way to greet the travelers.

Dale couldn’t believe it. After so long waiting for Merdigen to return, there he was standing among them. The two newcomers were introduced to Dale as Radiscar, from Tower of the Sea, the westernmost tower, and Mad Leaf of Tower of the Trees.

Mad Leaf? What sort of name was that?

The guardians showered the travelers with questions at once and Merdigen wearily gestured them to quiet.

“I need ale,” he said, “and I’m sure Radiscar and Mad Leaf would appreciate refreshment, too.”

This request was attended to, with the guardians conjuring a feast from the air, as well as mugs of ale, foam spilling over brims. Dale sat in the one solid chair at the table and waited for things to settle down.

Merdigen heaved off his pack, which dissolved to nothing before it hit the floor, and took in long gulps of ale Itharos handed him. “Ah, that is good,” he said. He inquired after his cat, and asked, in turn, how everyone was, including Dale.

“I see you’ve not abandoned us,” he said.

“I see you haven’t either,” she replied in a quiet voice.

Merdigen nodded. “Yes, I know I’ve been gone a good while, but the travel was not easy.”

“What of Haurris?” Itharos asked. “Why is he not with you?”

Haurris, Dale gathered, was the guardian of Tower of the Earth.

Merdigen’s features sagged at Itharos’ question. “We could not reach him, I’m afraid. Broken bridges everywhere. Messages sent from Mad Leaf’s tower went unanswered.”

The group grew somber.

“What could have happened to him?” Boreemadhe asked.

Merdigen shrugged. “Hard to say. Perhaps the breach in the wall has made him impossible to reach, but why him, and not me, when my tower is closest to the breach?” He shook his head. “Whatever the cause, we must assume the worst has happened and that whatever happened to Haurris could happen to any of us.”

The festive atmosphere at the arrival of Merdigen and his companions all but evaporated—except for Mad Leaf who grinned, well, madly, and played with a twig in her hair. It seemed one of Boreemadhe’s gray clouds settled over the table.

“We must not let this deter us,” Merdigen continued. “In fact it should spur us to find answers, and that’s why I have called you all together: to find answers, for the wall is constantly weakening. We cannot fix the breach, but there may be other things we can do. We were always more powerful as a collective than as individuals.”

“We have been looking at the problem of the wall,” Itharos said, with a wink at Dale. He conjured out of the air copious diagrams and equations scrawled across scrolls.

However, as if this was some sort of cue, the tower began to rumble, the floor shuddering beneath Dale’s chair. She stood in alarm and the guardians cried out in consternation. The shaking grew, encompassing the whole of the chamber, raising dust. Crockery fell out of cupboards and crashed to the floor. A crack jagged up one wall and the floor pitched so much, Dale staggered from side to side as though she were on a ship at sea.

Blocks of rock tumbled from the unseen ceiling above and smashed to the floor. Dale dove under the table, knowing it would not be enough to protect her if the whole tower decided to collapse.

She was aware of Merdigen shouting orders and the mages running to and fro in the dust haze until they disappeared beneath the arches on either side of the chamber.

Another block crashed to the floor just inches from Dale and she gritted her teeth, wondering if this was the end of all things.

Alton paced alongside the wall. His night’s sleep had been worse than usual, filled with murmurings in his head. Uneasy, ghostly murmurings full of fear and despair eating at his mind. He awoke full of trepidation.

And yet everything about the morning was as usual. The encampment went about its day-to-day business and the wall and tower remained, as far as he could tell, unchanged. He’d hurried Dale through breakfast wondering if the mages in the tower would note any difference and provide an answer to his disquiet. He hadn’t told Dale how he felt, but he had practically pushed her through the wall.

Now he apprehensively awaited her return. Waited, waited, and waited. He was sick of waiting when he should be able to get answers for himself.

On impulse, he halted in front of the tower and pressed his palm against the stone facade. Shining strokes of lettering hurled away from his hand. He had not seen this in so long. He knew it was the wall guardians sending out messages of alarm. What was going on?

He was joyous that the guardians allowed him this much communication, but he feared what it meant.

Just then the ground pitched beneath him and he almost lost his footing. He did not jump away from the wall or seek cover, but pressed both hands against it, leaned into it, and tried to remain standing as the ground rolled under his feet.

“Dale!” he screamed in anguish.