The Choice

Roland could hardly wait for the bleachers to empty so that he could discuss with Digtry and Delaney in private all he had heard. At last the burden of the secret had been lifted from his shoulders; the crisis that had the realms in an uproar was a matter for others to take up and no longer his concern.

That left him finally free to focus on the problem of getting back home before he lost all memory of the place. Yet he did not know where to start. Not even Digtry seemed to have the slightest clue how he might go about returning home. The only people with possible inside information on how he had gotten to the realmlands in the first place were those back on the island, and their record of collegiality was uninspiring.

Lack of any leads whatsoever forced Roland to come to grips with the possibility that he had become a permanent resident of the realms. If that were the case, then the apparent realm crisis was his concern, even if it was not so intensely personal. He did not care to imagine what would happen to him if people like Devil Throat and creatures like the Raxxars and their allies overran the realms and subjugated the Tishaarans.

He saw no obvious role for himself in the quest to crack the mysterious conspiracy. Yet his conscience moved him to wonder if he might be of some service. After all, he owed the Tishaarans--especially the one who had given his life for them at the Gaterock. If it were not for him, and Windglow, and the refuge of Tishaara itself, Roland would certainly be dead. Not to mention the debt to Cohasset. He bit his lip, wondering why he had been unable to articulate such thoughts to Delaney just minutes ago.

At any rate, before making plans for the future, Roland wanted to consult with his friends, a group the did not include Berch. But when he turned to Digtry, he found only an empty bleacher. That left him with no intermediary to help him deal with Delaney, who seemed intent on nursing her current grudge to the last drop. The glare she shot at him unnerved him.

“I guess we’ve got to, you know, sort of find out what we want to do,” he stammered. Delaney turned her back to him. “I mean, if we’re going to do something together-”

She stomped down the bleachers as if he did not exist. Roland burned with humiliation as he chased after her, trying to get her to listen. His voice sounded even to himself like that of a babbling moron. “I mean, we’ve got the thing wide open, you know, as far as choices.”

Delaney stopped near the bottom rung. She had a way of lifting her chin when she decided to act stubborn, so Roland knew what was coming. “No, Roland,” she said, as if explaining to a toddler why licking a burning match was a bad idea. “We are so not going to discuss this. I don’t like talking to guys with egos the size of Big Timber, who treat me like a baby, trying to protect the helpless airhead ditz from facts I need to know.“

“Look, I’m sorry about that. Can’t we just forget it and start figuring out where we go from here?”

“And why is that?” asked Delaney. “Why do we need to discuss where to go from here? Oh, yeah, so you can talk me into something. So you can tag after me just because you think you have to take care of poor little confused me. You make me want to puke! No thank you! I’ll decide what I want to do and you decide what you want to do. Alone.”

Her comments stung. Roland wheeled away from her to hide the hurt. Although he was no stranger to verbal slings, this staggered him in a way that no other taunts of his youth had. He had always protected himself back home with low expectations of himself and even lower expectations of others, and that had blunted the force of the blows when he was treated poorly. But Delaney had been a special case. She was his sole link to his past--the only person in the realms who could possibly understand him. They had seemed to have a thing between them. Drawn by this bond, he had, on rash impulse, opened up to her, let down his guard with her. Big mistake! What is wrong with girls, anyway? Why do they have to get so upset over stuff that isn’t a big deal? Why do they have to be the ones to run the whole show their way all the time?

“Sure. If that’s the way you want to play it,” he said, cooly. “I can deal. Makes no difference to me.”

The bleachers squeaked as he skipped down to the floor, rushing outdoors and leaving Delaney alone in a suddenly spacious hall.

There were few surprises when the expedition rosters were posted outside the Chamber two weeks later. Volunteers for the interrealm journeys had been sparse, and nearly all who had stepped forward had been assigned to their first preference. The names of those selected for duty were written in flowing script on a large leaf of parchment that was now being nailed to the door of the Chamberhouse. While the Tishaarans crowded around to see the results and exchanged hugs and wishes for good luck with the brave volunteers, Roland and Delaney stood awkwardly on the outskirts of the crowd, almost back-to-back in their reluctance to confront one another. Delaney had not wavered in her insistence that they arrive at their decisions independently. Now, as the time drew near when those decisions were to be revealed, they stood in obstinate silence.

Berch did not need to say a thing. In fact, he was absent again on this occasion. While he dutifully performed the minimal interactions with the Tishaarans in day-to-day activity, his utter lack of warmth made the encounters awkward and joyless for all. Thus, he avoided large crowds completely and small groups whenever possible. Nonetheless, Roland knew full well where Berch was headed. Fate had entangled the old guy in the tragedy of the wolf. His only options were to face up to his unwitting blunder or ignore it. As offensive and annoying as he could be, he had his own unbending code of honor. He screwed up; he would take responsibility for it. He owed a debt; he would pay it. He would go to meet the wolves.

Had Berch been allowed his way, he would have traveled that road alone. The Tishaarans, blessed with inexhaustible lung capacity, tireless legs, and limited pasture, owned no horses, so again the expeditions would travel by foot. Although the Tishaarans were too polite to mention it, Berch knew that his aging joints and slow pace would be a burden to the party. However, Digtry, who declared his intention to join the expedition seeking the wolves, insisted that Berch be part of the group.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roland sensed Delaney turning toward him. He refused to make eye contact. During the past two weeks, a time they could have used for growing closer and for guiding each other to a keener remembrance of their past and a better understanding of their present, they had drifted apart. Or rather had galloped apart. Roland took Delaney’s refusal to discuss their plans as a personal insult and retreated into a shell of cool indifference.

He noted with bitter irony that Delaney, who had nearly shattered under the strain of her early trauma in the realmlands, now seemed perfectly adjusted. She made friends among the Tishaarans as easily as if she were gathering flowers in a garden.

Roland, on the other hand, had kept his balance during the initial shock but was now floundering. Never adept at meeting people, he felt isolated despite the Tishaarans’ friendliness and hospitality. Delaney could say whatever was on her mind and get away with it. Childish as she could be, others opened up to her. In contrast, Roland felt trapped inside a drum with his own thoughts and feelings that bounced from one side to the other but never found release. There was no one with whom he felt close.

Yet, as much as he had come to resent Delaney, he prayed that they did not choose differently. Despite their icy relationship, which had created discomfort among the eternally amiable Tishaarans, Roland dreaded losing his only link with the familiar.

In the end, he reached his decision rather easily. Wild horses could not drag him back to the Second Realm, within easy reach of that sadistic Devil Throat. Tishaara was a pleasant enough place, even in winter, and he had been invited to stay there. Yet he never quite felt at home among them, and some instinct kept drawing his thoughts toward the world so vaguely remembered. Weighing the matter as objectively as he could, he could reach no other conclusion than that his arrival in the realmlands was magic. Magic, they said, flourished in the the higher realms. Therefore, the higher he advanced into the realms, the better the chance of finding a spell or something on a level with whatever had brought him to the realmlands. He would go to the Fourth Realm in search of the magic that would take him home. Perhaps even to the Fifth if need be, although he hoped it never came to that. There was no mistaking the fear in every Tishaaran who dared so much as mention that ominous place.

Delaney broke the ice abruptly. “I’m not going to the Fourth Realm.”

Roland felt as though she had kicked the stool from under him at the gallows. She had guessed which road he would take. How could he have chosen otherwise when the Second Realm had a signed death warrant for him? She had known what he would choose and had deliberately refused it. Although he pretended otherwise, this wound cut deeply. What a stuck-up little--

Then the frost in her voice thawed. “I know you are going to the Fourth,” she said, her shoulders hunched as she shivered in the wind. “Part of me wants to go there with you, even though we haven’t gotten along lately. You know, on account of you being such a moron. But I can’t do it.”

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She touched his arm and her pleading eyes looked up into Roland’s. “You can’t imagine what I went through in that Rushbrook jail! I can’t get over it. I’ll never get over it. I think it has ruined my sleep for the rest of my life. Roland, I used to love to plop into bed at night. I’d fluff up the pillow and pull the covers up to my chin and put on tunes and read and then drift off into the deepest sleep. But now I break into a cold sweat every night when the sun goes down. Even here in Tishaara.”

“So how is that an argument for not going to the Fourth? You just said that the Second is your worst nightmare so I don’t--I don’t get it.” Roland’s head swam with both disappointment and confusion. Delaney was being civil to him for the first time in weeks. At the same time, she just called him a moron. Besides all that, her arguments made no sense at all, as usual.

“What I’m saying is I don’t handle weirdness the way you do, Roland. I’m afraid of the Fourth Realm! And really, who would want me on that expedition? I’d be useless. Me roughing it in the mountains? By choice? I don't think so!”

“So you’re staying here,” said Roland. Now that she had explained her decision, it made perfect sense; he was surprised he had not seen it coming.

“No. I’m going back to the Second Realm.”

Roland gaped at her. “Are you insane?! Did you hear what you just said about the Second Realm? The nightmares, the living hell!? Remember what we had to go through to get away from those guys? If they find out you’re within miles of them, they’ll find you and kill you! How can you go back?”

“I’m not going to Rushbrook,” said Delaney, shuddering at the memory. “Not in a million years. We’re going to Orduna, the City of Wisdom. In our realm. The normal realm, I mean. We’re hoping to meet Ehiloru there. If he hadn’t gotten me out of jail, I would have died there. I was in no condition then to thank him. But now that we have some clue about what’s going on in the Second Realm, I figure the least I can do is warn him. Maybe he can help us find out what is on the island and who Devil Throat is and how to stop him. At least I’ve got a better chance to do something in a realm where things are more like what I’m used to.”

“I guess that makes sense, in a way. But still--” said Roland, biting his lip deeply enough to draw blood.

“No kidding; it makes as much sense as you going to the Fourth Realm.”

“You could talk me out of it,” said Roland, opening himself up to her just a crack.

But that nerve was still raw. “No way!” she said, firmly. “I’m not talking anyone into doing anything.”

Her mulish insistence on total independence struck Roland like a slap across the cheek. For a moment he wanted to hit her back, right across her stuck-up mouth.

Groping for a way out of this aggravating conversation, he spotted a familiar face. “Hey, Windglow, you old goat! Good luck, big guy!”

“Thank you,” said Windglow, in the wide, welcoming smile that Roland had seen when they first met. “May I offer the same to you? The Chamber has been gracious enough to forgive my past lapses and has offered me another chance. I would rather have gone to the Fourth Realm to atone for my negligence in the debacle with the wolf. Indeed, that was my hope and my request. But, since I am one of the few Tishaarans with some experience of the Second Realm, Alanwyck has asked me to lead the expedition to Orduna. I am determined to justify the Chamber’s faith in me.”

Roland swallowed a pang of jealousy. Windglow and Delaney are going together. Windglow gets the girl. Someone else always gets the girl. And, lucky me, I’m stuck with Berch!

Despite Glenleaf’s note of urgency, which was an echo of Digtry’s more strenuous alarm, winter had nearly ended before the first expedition set out from Tishaara. The realities of climate and geography had closed off the Fourth Realm trek to travel for several months. With safe passage through Big Timber no longer a possibility, the expedition had no option but to travel through the Emperor Mountains, which were impassable in the winter. The Second Realm expedition was scheduled to leave sooner but was stymied by the unexpected persistence of the Raxxars. Day after day, they massed before the Gaterock entrance to Tishaara, an incredible show of perseverance for creatures whose actions were primarily governed by impulse. The Tishaarans kept advising patience--soon the Raxxars would lose interest in the game and go away, or at least let down their guard. Raxxars had no staying power.

But weeks passed without any change.

Digtry found the stalemate extremely disturbing. “Discipline and patience are foreign concepts to the Raxxar. This siege is neither their idea nor their wish. Our Fifth Realm friend has done a remarkable job of bending them to do his will. Long has it been, if ever, since someone or something with that kind of power has walked these realms. And that’s the being who wants to kill us.”

Roland began to wonder if Digtry got a kick out of scaring the bejeebers out of him.

“Besides that,” muttered Digtry, “where are the Lumberjacks? As long as they’re so hopping mad, you’d think they could at least try to burn down Tishaara.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Roland. “You’re mad at the Lumberjacks for not storming up here to destroy Tishaara?”

“Sure. I was counting on that."

"What!? One sight of the Raxxars should have sent them into a murderous frenzy and cleaned out the batty buggers.”

Roland studied him closely. “Are you saying that you riled up the Lumberjacks on purpose?”

Digtry shook his head with a wounded expression. “Roland, you’re a sick individual.”

As anxiety grew over the precious time already lost, Digtry began to draw up schemes to get past the Raxxar blockade. All, however, entailed enormous risk. While the Tishaarans were willing to explore the path that Glenleaf had suggested, not even her supporters believed it to be worth the risk of an all-out assault to break the Raxxar siege, given the uncertainty over exactly what threat the cold flame conspiracy posed to the health or fortunes of community. Besides, Tishaara’s weapons were exclusively for defense; the community as ill-equipped as it was ill-disposed for any sort of attack.

Berch greeted this news with his usual contempt for Tishaaran ways. “No guts, no glory.”

There was one other exit from Tishaara that the Second Realm expedition could take. It was a secret, if not altogether safe, emergency route. To travel it would take courage and skill but it could at least get them headed south toward their destination, free from Raxxar eyes. This route would open as soon as the spring thaw began, and as the Raxxars showed no sign of ending their vigilance, the Second Realm expedition had little choice but to try it.

In the gray dawn of a crisp, cold day, a tense gathering of Tishaarans rimmed the boat landing looking out over Lake Tishaara. Almost the entire village was there, among them Roland Stewart. All through these winter weeks, he had purposely avoided Delaney

whenever possible, and had been careful to squelch any evidence of the least interest in her. Doing so tore his heart out. Deep down in a place where he would never admit it, even to himself, he wanted to be with her. But pride, wounded badly enough, rules all other emotions, and it refused to let Delaney get anywhere near him.

A chilling north wind whined through the high passes of the snow-covered stone guardians that surrounded Tishaara but

scarcely rippled the glassy surface of the lake. Two soldiers dragged a boat to the water, crunching through a pastry-thin crust of ice that had formed overnight near shore, beyond the protection of the warm spring fissures that kept the lake ice-free in all but the coldest winters. In the distance, shepherds crouched low to the ground, wrapped in their cloaks, blowing on their hands.

Among those who had come to witness the departure was Berch. Roland grudgingly admired his stubborn sense of honor. But as he watched the old man hunched at the lake’s edge, bitter and listless, making no move to protect his hairy fingers from the cold, he wondered if shuffling into a situation without hope was any better than running away from it. Besides, he had spent enough time with Berch to expect that the guy was more likely to screw matters up even worse than he was to redeem himself.

He became aware that Delaney was eying him closely, as if fumbling for something to say. Or maybe he just imagined it. No, Delaney could juggle three sentences in the air at once; she never fumbled for words. Enough of trying to figure her out! In fact, I’m glad she's leaving so I can get her out of my mind and finally have some peace.

“Ready, Delaney?” called Windglow, as he held a flat-bottomed boat close to the shore. She nodded.

Do something quick.

“Shake?” Roland blurted out, thrusting his hand in the general direction of she whose eyes he could not meet. He took a small measure of pride in initiating this final action with Delaney instead of letting her dictate the agenda. It proved he was the bigger person. Yes, the high road was a wonderful place. The view was great and the air tasted fresh.

Delaney nodded behind a pained smile. But she nearly melted Roland to his shoes by pulling him close and squeezing him with an intensity that nearly toppled them both. “You take care of yourself, Roland! I promise I’ll be the best audience in the world for all the wild and crazy stories you’ll have to tell when we see each other again.”

She wiped a damp cheek and walked away quickly.

A mist clouded Roland’s eyes. He did not understand her in the least, and yet. . . He forced himself away from that path, from finishing the “and yet.”

Well, that’s the end of it.

He watched her climb into a boat and shove off along with Windglow, one other expedition member, and a squadron of Tishaaran soldiers rotating onto their shift at the Gaterock. As the boat slid out, she ducked her head into her cloak against the cold.

Delaney never looked back. The last Roland saw of her she was wreathed in the frost of her own breath, staring across the water at the mountains. He was quite certain he would never see her again. Try as he might to persuade himself that she was an exasperating brat, his heart ached and his insides went hollow.

Three weeks later, without warning, the Raxxar siege ended. Tishaaran soldiers at the Gaterock reported the meadow empty, except for the unimaginable filth left behind by the three-month-plus occupation. Scouts probed the woods and hills and saw nothing. If there were any traps or ambushes lying out there, the Raxxars had no part in them; they had simply disappeared.

Reaction in Tishaara to the news was widely mixed. The dominant feeling was relief that their cruel and bitter enemy had finally decided to leave them in peace, and that the Fourth Realm expedition could finally depart to carry out its assignment. Roland had been among the foremost of the celebrants. With the last of his pursuers now withdrawn, an enormous weight slid from his chest.

They were gone. Everyone who had made his life miserable was gone. All of them. Thanks to Tishaara's impenetrable defenses, the murderous dragnet had at last been disbanded. Now he could travel to the Fourth Realm and all the excitement promised by that magic realm without having to look constantly over his shoulder at the fast-closing grim reaper.

He felt certain that not even Digtry could puncture his good spirits.

Of course, he was wrong. As they finished their last-minute packing for the expedition to the Fourth, Roland tempted fate too far; he commented on their good luck in the disappearance of the Raxxar hoard.

“Good luck?” said Digtry. “Perhaps. If the Raxxars gave up, or left on their own. But I doubt that. More likely it was the enemy who called off the Raxxars. I can’t imagine the Raxxars running away without a putting up a fight, doomed though it would be. If that is so, if the enemy did call off the Raxxars, it means that our Fifth Realmer no longer cares what we know. It means it has bought the time it needed. It means the devilry it has hatched has progressed so far that it has no fear that we or any other living creature can do anything about it.

“In short, Roland, the Raxxar withdrawal means that all hell is about to break loose! It means that the realmlands lie on the doorstep of doom, and we stand here twiddling our thumbs without a clue as to the the nightmare that is about to befall us. So if that is what you mean by good luck, yes, Lady Fortune is absolutely grinning upon us.”

Thank you Digtry, I enjoyed that brief moment of inner peace. Good ol’ Digtry.