The land of Angels, walled with pride

What other way to get inside?

The Aegis was a vast wall blocking their path. To Ferrian, it looked like grey glass, though Hawk had mentioned that it was actually a golden colour. A huge, gleaming arched gate stood beyond it – also apparently gold – as well as two more smaller watchtowers of the same elegant, curving design as those in the mountains.

These, too were deserted.

The three of them stood on the road before the great shield, pondering what to do.

“No guards here, either,” Mekka murmured.

“They must have a lot of confidence in this shield's ability to protect them,” Hawk commented, craning his neck and squinting to see where the Aegis disappeared into the clouds.

“Indeed.”

The Angel strolled forward casually, passing straight through the shield as though it did not exist. Then he flew up and crouched on top of the gate, surveying the land beyond.

Hawk walked forward and lifted a gauntleted fist to rap on the shield.

“No, wait!” Ferrian cried.

Hawk froze, and looked at him.

“Won't the Angels be alerted to our presence if we touch the shield?”

Mekka looked down from atop the gate. He stood and dropped lightly to the ground, then walked back towards them, shaking his head. “Possibly,” he replied. “But the Seraphim will not care.” He waved a hand at them haughtily. “To them, you are merely ants, not worthy of their attention.”

“Ants, huh?” Hawk said.

He punched the shield in front of Mekka's smirking face, which made a ringing sound as though he had hit solid stone.

He winced, shaking his hand.

Ferrian stepped forward and touched the shield. It was indeed like smooth, solid, impossibly strong glass. It did not react to his touch, like Requar's shield had. It was simply a wall.

The Winter passed through it, however; snow fell on the other side, and overhead, clouds drifted through its curved surface.

Ferrian stepped back.

“Can we go under it?” he asked Mekka after a moment.

“Aha!” Hawk exclaimed. “Secret passages!”

The Angel walked back through the Aegis, looking amused. “Oh,” he replied, “there are always secret passages. However,” he turned on his heel to regard the shield. “This Aegis likely extends through the ground as well. It is in fact a sphere.”

Hawk sighed, slumping in disappointment. “Bummer.” The Freeroamer crouched and played with the snow at his feet. He shook his head. “Guess you'll have to go in without us, Mekka.”

They fell into a defeated silence. Mekka stood frowning in thought at the seemingly impassable Aegis.

Ferrian stared at it as well, remembering how Arzath had wanted him to break into Requar's castle using the Winter. This Aegis was much more enormous – it covered an entire country – and infinitely more powerful, as it was linked to the minds of immortal beings.

Somewhere beyond it lay Grath Ardan, a cure for trigon and possibly his own salvation.

He did not like the idea of Mekka going in there alone. Of course, the Angel had been there before and seemed more than capable of looking after himself, but if something did happen to Mekka because of Ferrian's personal quest…

He closed his eyes. He could not handle another death on his conscience.

If something bad awaited them in Arkana or in Grath Ardan, Ferrian wanted to be the first one in its way.

And if the Dragons really were about to escape from the Middle Isle, Arkana – hostile population notwithstanding – may well be a safe place to be, with an Aegis over their heads.

The rest of Arvanor, however…

Ferrian felt helpless as he thought of Commander Trice, whom he had left behind in Sunsee, of Sirannor, who was kidnapped and could be anywhere, of Lord Requar, who was worse than dead… All of his friends were scattered and in danger, and he wasn't there to help any of them.

Briefly, desperately, he thought of turning back, but he knew at once that such an idea was foolish. He had come so far, with Hawk and Mekka's help – two men who didn't even know him, and yet had chosen to help Ferrian.

You should not doubt a decision that has already been made… Constable Raemint's voice floated back to him from a very long way away.

Ferrian took a deep breath. He had to keep going. He had to get through this shield.

“What about magic?” he said, opening his eyes.

The other two looked at him.

“Could… could very powerful magic break a hole in the Aegis?”

Mekka regarded him for a moment, then shook his head ruefully. “I do not think the Winter would be strong enough.”

“No,” Ferrian said, shaking his head, “not the Winter.”

Mekka and Hawk watched him in puzzlement as he walked back to Serentyne and untied a long bundle that was strapped to her saddle. Carefully, Ferrian unwrapped it to reveal a long, exquisite silver sword.

The Sword of Frost.

Hawk gasped. Mekka came forward, staring at the Sword in astonishment. To the Angel's even greater surprise, Ferrian handed it to him.

“Hold this for a second...”

Mekka held the beautiful sword reverently upon his upturned palms as Hawk came over to look and Ferrian rummaged in a saddlebag, pulling out another bundle. He hesitated as he held the oblong bundle in his hands, then gritted his teeth and pulled off the wrappings to reveal a decorative tin box. He had to fight a wave of nausea as he opened the lid and set eyes on the object inside.

It took an even greater effort of will to pick it up and lift it gingerly from the tin.

Both Hawk and Mekka took a step back at the sight of the wicked looking black dagger.

“That is...” Mekka started.

“A trigonic dagger,” Ferrian answered solemnly.

“You brought it with you?” Hawk said, aghast.

Ferrian stared down at the knife in his hand. In the cold light of day, against the brilliant white of the snow, it looked even darker and more insidious than the last time he had seen it, when he had stolen it from Requar's castle after finding where Arzath had hidden it away. He hadn't expected Arzath would want to touch it again, let alone use it on someone, after what had happened, but… nevertheless, Ferrian had not felt comfortable leaving it in the sorcerer's possession.

“I wanted to get rid of it,” Ferrian replied, tearing his eyes away from the awful blade. “Throw it in the sea, maybe, but… I never got a chance.”

He walked towards Mekka. The Angel winced a little as Ferrian approached, but Ferrian merely took back the Sword of Frost.

He looked at the Angel and the Freeroamer in turn.

“Umm…” he said slowly. “I'm about to do something really, really stupid. You might want to stand back.”

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The others needed no further encouragement. Mekka launched himself into the air and flapped away into the high rocks surrounding them. Hawk gathered up the horses and jogged back up the road to what he deemed a safe distance, and crouched behind some boulders.

Ferrian waited to be sure they were both well out of the way, then turned and walked slowly towards the Aegis; Sword of Frost gleaming in one hand, the trigonic dagger a black shard in the other.

He paused and looked up at the shield for a moment, then down at his Sword.

There was a dagger-shaped indentation in the hilt.

Arzath had intended to combine this Sword with the trigonic dagger to create a supremely powerful weapon with which to exterminate his brother. Ferrian had no idea what it was supposed to do, or whether any spells were required to make it work.

He stared at the trigonic dagger. He did not know what else to try, however, and this was magic – powerful magic – and therefore, it was a chance.

Reluctantly, he started to move the knife into place, but then hesitated. Upturning the Sword of Frost, he stuck it point downward in the ground before him, then bent and untied one of his shoelaces, and tied it around the handle of the dagger.

He wanted to be able to get the disgusting thing back out of the Sword, if possible; not relishing the idea of transforming his newly-created Sword of Frost into a Sword of Death, or whatever horrible thing was going to happen…

Getting to his feet, he picked up the Sword again and, before he could think any more about it, placed the dagger over the indentation and lowered it into place.

Or tried to.

A strange force resisted him, pushing back against the dagger.

Ferrian pushed harder, and the repelling force grew stronger. A tremor passed through both weapons.

Ferrian increased the pressure, and both Sword and dagger quivered. A thin, high keening noise emanated from somewhere, from which blade he did not know. He kept pressing against the dagger, trying to force it into its slot.

Gods, he thought, pushing harder and harder against the dagger: the weapons were resisting each other! They did not want to be put together!

This is a really, REALLY bad idea! he thought, wincing as the keening sound increased to a piercing shriek…

And then, unexpectedly, the resistance reversed itself and the blades snapped together with a metallic clink.

Ferrian froze.

Nothing else happened.

The blades were still and silent.

Slowly and carefully, he removed his hand from the dagger.

It remained in place, the ends of the shoelace hanging out.

He relaxed a little in relief, grateful for once that he no longer had a beating heart, for it would have been in his throat by now…

And then he realised, staring down at the Sword, that he needed to put magic into it to make anything happen at all.

That meant he had to summon the Winter again.

Sighing deeply in resignation, Ferrian placed both of his hands around the hilt. Forcing away his growing terror, his thoughts of Hawk and Mekka's safety, he closed his eyes and focused.

The Winter responded immediately. Cold white light flooded through his body, and he concentrated on directing it down his arms. It flowed like icy water through his veins, into his hands and into the Sword.

He knew at once that something was wrong.

The Sword began to tremble again, and the high keening sound returned.

But there was something else happening, something he could not quite fathom, something huge and awful that sent a wave of dread through him. A sickening pain slammed into his gut, as though he had been punched. Gritting his teeth, he continued to pour magic into the blade.

The Sword shook violently, emitting an eerie shriek. Ferrian opened his eyes to see silvery light leaking out of it, mingling with black mist from the dagger. Snow swirled crazily around him, whipped up by a sudden angry gale, though he stood in a calm cocoon, apart from the Sword, which felt as though it were trying to leap out of his hands.

Ferrian gripped it tighter, desperately trying to hold on. Somewhere overhead, thunder ripped apart the sky. The clouds darkened rapidly, plunging the pass into twilight, then night, the snow around him illuminated only by the white glow beaming out of his body and the ghostly light streaming off the Sword.

Ferrian staggered, struggling not to release the Sword. The feeling of dread increased until it was an almost physical force, crushing him from both inside his body and out.

The power he was trying to control was enormous. It was far, far more monstrous than the Winter...

With a terrified cry, Ferrian swung the Sword at the Aegis.

There was no massive explosion, as he expected, or even an impact. The Sword sailed through the shield as though it wasn't there, and Ferrian went with it, pirouetting awkwardly and falling heavily into the snow.

But something strange happened to his mind. He did not lose consciousness, but suddenly time and space lost all meaning. His thoughts jumbled together into a confused mess. Looking up, he saw that he was on the other side of the Aegis…

But he wasn't, he was still swinging the Sword…

And at the same time, he was lying in the snow…

He was struggling with the Sword, swinging it…

And in the midst of it all was a weird blind spot in the middle of his vision… a gash through the air, where the Sword had sliced in an arc. It wasn't a hole though, there was nothing there… yet, it was… he couldn't see it, but…

Ferrian let go of the Sword and clutched his head, feeling panic take hold of him as his grip on sanity slipped away.

He screamed.

And then the white light surged up and flooded his brain, blissfully washing everything away.

When Ferrian awoke, he was still lying in the snow. His first thoughts were that he could not remember what had happened, or where he was. He lay still, feeling comfortable with the cold snow pressing against his cheek.

It was peaceful, having an empty mind, unburdened by thoughts or worries.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

The memories returned, a gradual realisation at first… and then a painful rush…

Ferrian gasped and pushed himself up, snow sliding off his hair. Brushing the ice away from his eyes, he blinked and looked around.

The darkness had lifted and the storm subsided. Snow once again fell gently around him in the sombre, white-grey light of day.

He was, indeed, on the inside of the Aegis.

And the 'gash' in the air, the strange blind arc that he could not see, but his brain told him existed, was still there.

Though his stomach was no longer functioning, he nevertheless felt the urge to retch.

“Are you all right?” a quiet voice said.

Ferrian lifted his head groggily and looked to his left. Mekka knelt in the snow beside him, looking concerned.

“I...” Ferrian clutched his head. He was dead, and yet still had a splitting headache. How did that work? “I don't know,” he answered honestly. “I have no idea what happened...”

“You sliced a hole in reality,” Mekka replied matter-of-factly.

“I… what?!”

“It is what happens when you combine trigon and silvertine,” the Angel explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ferrian was still trying to comprehend what Mekka had just said, when a groan came from behind him.

He turned to see Hawk slumped against the gate, also clutching his head. “Ugh,” the Freeroamer muttered. “What the hell was that? I feel like… like...”

“Like... your brain was just smashed to pieces and put back together again in the wrong order?” Ferrian offered.

“Yeah,” Hawk said, peering at him. “That's it exactly...”

Ferrian frowned. “Hawk,” he said. “How did you get through the Aegis?”

Mekka got to his feet, rolling his eye. “How do you suppose?” he replied. “After you collapsed, the idiot charged straight into the hole before I had a chance to warn him. With the horses.”

“What?!”

Mekka gestured at Serentyne and Ardance, who were huddled in a far corner, where the Aegis connected with the cliffs. “The horses went berserk and almost trampled you,” Mekka explained. “They have finally calmed from hysterical to merely scared out of their wits. Hawk passed out, as you did. I have been waiting quite some time for you both to wake up.”

Ferrian stared at Hawk in astonishment.

The Freeroamer just shrugged and scruffed his hair, looking sheepish.

Ferrian stood up. “That… er, 'hole',” he said, waving at it while trying not to look at the place where it was, “it's still there.”

“Yes,” Mekka said. “It is a rip in the fabric of reality. It will take some time to repair itself.”

“Really?” Hawk said, pushing himself up. “How long, exactly?”

“Oh,” Mekka replied, waving a hand absently. “A few years, I expect...”

“A few years?!”

The Angel shrugged and flew to the top of the gate.

“How do you know all this?” Hawk called up, incredulously.

Mekka gave him a smile. “I know everything,” he said, and dropped to the far side of the gate.

“Humph,” Hawk grumbled. “Not cocky at all, is he?”

Ferrian looked around himself and caught sight of the Sword lying in the snow a few feet away. Stepping over to it, he bent and grabbed the ends of the shoelace, and attempted to pull the trigonic dagger free of its recess.

It would not budge.

Feeling panic begin to stir again, he braced his feet on the Sword and pulled again, as hard as he could.

All of a sudden, the dagger came free, with such force that it flew past Ferrian and narrowly missed Hawk, embedding itself in the gate.

Hawk leapt away, stumbling and almost falling over. “Great Goddess!” he gasped. “Be careful with that thing!”

Ferrian picked himself up out of the snow, stammering an apology. Fishing in the pocket of his tunic, he withdrew the oblong tin, then hurried over to the dagger. Removing his shoelace from its handle, he pulled the black knife out of the gate and slammed it into its tin, then wrapped the cloth binding around it, securing it tightly.

I NEVER want to touch this hellish thing again! he thought furiously.

A loud clanking sound came from the gates and they split open ponderously as Mekka worked the mechanism from the other side. Hawk went over to try and coax the poor horses into travelling further with three lunatics.

Ferrian retrieved the Sword of Frost, then walked through the gates and approached Mekka as the Angel appeared from around one of them.

He took a deep breath. “Mekka?”

“Yes?”

“Do you… know of a place to dispose of this?” He held out the wrapped bundle.

The Angel looked down at the bundle solemnly. “I do,” he replied. “Caer Sync. The dagger should be returned to its source.”

Ferrian nodded. Reluctantly, he handed it to Mekka.

The Angel took it from him, and nodded. “Once I have guided you to Grath Ardan,” he said softly, “I will take this to the Holy Tower and cast it into the Dark World, where it belongs.”

“Thank you,” Ferrian replied, relieved and grateful beyond words. Nevertheless, he hesitated watching Mekka place the bundle in his satchel. “Just… be careful with it,” he warned.

Mekka nodded again. “Don't worry. I am aware of what it is capable of,” he assured Ferrian. “And I give you my word,” he said seriously, “that I will not let it fall into another's hands.”

“Do you realise,” Hawk said, coming up behind them with the horses, “that we're the first Humans to set foot in this land for more than a hundred years?”

“Well done,” Mekka said drily, “I will be sure to give you a sightseeing tour.”

Hawk looked around at the snowy landscape, and scanned the grey sky. “Any idea where the guards have got to?”

“Likely back to Fleetfleer,” Mekka replied. “To sit around and drink wine. They are arrogant enough to believe the Aegis is all the defence they require.”

“And is it?”

“Well,” he considered. “The three of us managed to find a way inside. Clearly, the shield is not completely impenetrable.”

Hawk glanced back anxiously through the open gates. “And that… er… hole… thing. Could someone else come through there?”

Mekka smiled, starting towards the shadowy forest ahead of them. “I wouldn't worry,” he replied. “A Dragon wouldn't fit through it.”