Dreams of Chocolate

Mincing his steps to avoid the mosaic of puddles that filled the lane, Roland made his way toward a small house beyond the influence of Tishaara’s street lamps. From what little detail he could see in the dark, the house appeared scarcely more sturdy or elaborate than a modified lean-to, with a sod roof slanting from its peak clear to the ground on one side. The place might have looked ramshackle, perhaps even decrepit, except for the exquisite gardening that embroidered the house. Trellises and vines, just beginning to wither, festooned along the high wall all the way to the peak of the oddly angled roof, while a tapestry of maroon mums and smaller flowers edged the low side.

Windglow flung the door open. “Come in, Roland. Come in,” he said with that smile that never failed to warm Roland down to his toes. His wavy hair, which he kept neatly combed when not traveling in the wild or tending sheep, barely cleared the archway through which he ushered his guest.

The sitting room was adorned with paintings on the wall but little else. The only furniture Roland could see was a rolltop desk, a straight-backed chair, and a lumpy, stuffed armchair. As he entered the room, he saw Delaney already stretched out on a thick rug, leaning on one elbow as she sipped a cup of hot brew.

“Hi, Roland.” Delaney patted the rug next to her.

The two of them had spent as much time as possible together since Roland’s expedition had returned to Tishaara in midsummer. Delaney had wasted no time in setting matters right when he arrived in the mountain retreat three weeks after her return. She splashed right out into the water and whacked him just above the ears before he had even stepped out of the flat-bottomed boat.

“Ow, it’s nice to see you, too,” Roland had said, fighting back the urge to retaliate in kind. “What was that for?”

“I don’t remember, but it was something you said, and you deserved it.” Then she flashed a wide grin, threw her arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Caught totally off guard, he fell backwards into the lake. When they emerged out of the water, she was laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe.

Since then, the hours they spent sharing stories of their successes and the bitter losses of Berch and Hummer, Hatanwa and Redmerit, and Snetrock the Morp, had bound them ever closer.

But not too close, A part of Roland was still wary of her. As he stepped into the room, he restrained the impulse to respond to her invitation too eagerly. He ambled slowly to the rug, where he checked some of Windglow’s ocean-view artwork upon the near wall and studied a metallic candleholder on the fireplace mantel before joining Delaney.

Windglow poked at the small fire in the fireplace and fed it wood sparingly. Even in the comfort of their own homes, Tishaarans were extravagant but one day of the year.

As much as he enjoyed spending time in Delaney’s company, Roland had begun to feel uneasy of late. Without adventures to occupy him, he felt out of place in the realmlands. He had floated too long already on the acclaim of being a hero of the realms, the man who had saved Digtry the Wizard and fought bravely in the battle of Point Harrow. The praise grew increasingly unbearable in view of the much greater contributions and sacrifices made by those no longer present to reap their due rewards.

“You have done enough for the realmlands to rest on your laurels to the end of your days,” Windglow had assured him. “As far as we are concerned, you and Delaney are both Tishaarans. You belong here as much as any of us.”

Nonetheless, Roland felt like a very useless Tishaaran. He contributed nothing to the community other than as a general errand boy for people with real skills and duties. Lacking handyman expertise, except for those tasks that required electric tools, Roland found himself ill-suited for most of the professions in this society. He could probably learn to shepherd reasonably well, given time and training. But he was reluctant to think of that as his career choice.

Delaney found herself on the low end of the very same floundering boat. She had virtually no skills practical to Tishaaran life. She wielded tools no better than Roland, was worse with animals, and totally lost in a kitchen. Although comfortable with children (as long as they weren’t infants) and a capable student, she could find no outlet for such qualities among the Tishaarans. There was still far too much she did not know about Tishaaran culture and the realms in general to qualify her as a teacher. She could hardly be a doctor without training or any of the facilities and materials needed, and her skill with computers counted for nothing in a place where no such machines existed.

“I hope there is nothing wrong with my chairs,” said Windglow, seeing the furniture unused.

“Nothing at all, Windglow,” Delaney assured him. “It’s just that your rug is fabulous in front of a fire.”

“What’s up tonight?” asked Roland. “You mentioned a surprise. How long are you going to keep us in suspense?”

There was a polite knock at the door. “No longer than it takes to let the surprise in,” said Windglow, who broke into an even wider grin as he rushed out of the room.

Roland and Delaney raised eyebrows at each other and shrugged.

Moments later, Windglow ushered in a small man with swimming brown eyes and a foxlike face peeking out of a sweater than was a bit too large for him.

“Digtry!” cried Delaney.

In a flash, Roland found himself deserted on the rug. Delaney rushed to hug Digtry, so excited that she squeezed him with all her might before she remembered the ghastly wounds that Roland had described. Immediately, she backed off. “Aacchh! I’m so sorry! Roland said you were hacked up like fish bait! Does it hurt bad?”

“I am healed, so squeeze away,” said Digtry. Turning to Roland, he sniffed, “Fish bait! I came all this way to be likened to a bucket of chum?”

“OK, not the best figure of speech,” apologized Roland. He did not know quite how to approach their old travel companion. He almost wished that Berch had not discovered that Digtry was a wizard, for the lofty title had put some distance between them. Not much. But with Digtry, who kept a wide buffer zone from all comers, that sliver was telling.

“Good to see you,” said Roland, offering his hand.

“Good to be seen,” said Digtry, gripping him firmly. “Are you two wed to that rug, or might a poor wanderer warm his feet by the fire?”

“Be my guest,” said Roland.

“Digtry, I was wondering if we would ever see you again!” exclaimed Delaney.

“I truly apologize for the chairs being so uncomfortable,” said Windglow, with a frown of deep concern. “I had no idea--”

“They are totally excellent chairs,” said Delaney. To prove it, she settled into the stuffed chair, sighing with seductive pleasure, as if it were a hot, soapy tub.

Roland took the straight-backed chair which, ironically, left Windglow to join Digtry on the rug.

“So what have you been up to since we left you a virtual invalid on the shores of Point Harrow?” asked Roland.

“Various and sundry things,” said Digtry.

Delaney groaned. “Was he like this the whole time up in the Fourth Realm? Mr. Mind-Your-Own-Business? Geez, what a pain.”

Digtry turned a sleepy eye to Windglow. “Was she like this the whole time in the Second Realm? Impatient and temperamental as a bison?”

Delaney flung a chair pillow at him. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I forgot about your, you know, war injuries. Did I hurt you?”

“I’m healed, as I said. Certainly enough to withstand the onslaught of feathers. If you would exercise restraint, I do have some news.”

“She won’t interrupt again,” said Roland, threatening her with his own pillow.

“Interruptions are fine. Its these attacks and insults I could do without. Which reminds me, how is our friend Puddles?”

“Beyond hope, I fear,” said Windglow, sadly. “Cheeky to the point where I simply cannot allow him in polite company.”

“And not often with us, either,” said Roland, smiling. Despite Digtry’s guarded nature, the wizard had a comforting presence that put him in a good humor.

Digtry remained quiet for so long that Delaney finally winged another pillow at him.

“I’m glad you don’t leave cutlery lying about, Windglow,” said Digtry.

“Stop it, you creep!” said Delaney. “Say something! You didn’t come all this way to Tishaara to sit and smile at us!”

“I’m sorry, was I smiling?” Digtry cleared his throat importantly. “First, greetings to Roland from Katra, daughter of Mageroy.” He winked at Roland. “Mageroy says to tell you that unless your intentions are honorable, keep your filthy hands away from her.”

“Ahem, I don’t think I heard this story,” said Delaney.

“He’s just trying to get my goat,” said Roland. “I am glad to hear she and her family are well. And Katra is a gem. We should go up there some time, Delaney. You would not believe those stars.”

“You promised Mageroy that you would never speak of them,” said Digtry, solemnly.

“Shoot! Delaney, have that last statement stricken from the record,” said Roland. Before she could inquire further, he asked Digtry, “What else have you got? Do you know anything about Ishyrus?”

Digtry stretched his legs behind him on the rug. They appeared to be no more than half the length of Windglow’s. “I am sorry to say that no one has seen that unhappy soul since it’s appearance on the island, and few who saw it there lived to tell about it.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“What happened with that?” asked Roland. “What did Draxis and Ishyrus have to do with each other?”

“If Ishyrus had had it’s way, nothing. The Seraph took great pains to keep its plans secret. It was not easy because it needed a Nephil to help it accomplish the bond breaking, and you know you can’t trust them. Ishyrus somehow recruited a few tree wraiths to come with it on a journey, without, of course, telling them anything about why.

“I’m afraid, Roland, that your visit to the Fifth proved both fortunate and unfortunate. It gave us the heads-up on what was coming our way; yet Draxis was able to sift enough of your thoughts to begin to wonder if Ishyrus was up to something. It appears that Draxis, taking an enormous gamble, secretly followed Ishyrus to Point Harrow, and there discovered the breaking of the bonds. Of course, the blood and carnage and suffering of that battle nourished the demon Nephil well, to the point where it grew far more powerful than Ishyrus. When it learned that Ishyrus was abandoning its quest to permanently dissolve the bonds, Draxis was only too eager to take up the cause. It took Ishyrus prisoner. Shortly after we spoke with Ishyrus, in fact. Draxis learned what it needed to know, rekindled the Cold Flames and blew off to Reef’s Island in the Second Realm, with a bound Ishyrus in tow.

“There Radigan, the person you call Devil Throat, awaited with a protective force. Draxis claimed to be Ishyrus, and as, under the old realm rules, Fifth Realmers had no form but that which they reflected, no one was the wiser. Believing Draxis to be Ishyrus, with whom he had long plotted the realm bond destruction, Radigan offered Draxis the time and protection it needed to finish the job, while Ishyrus lay at their feet, bound, and helpless. Once the bonds were destroyed, Ishyrus assumed its spirit form and escaped from its far more powerful adversary. But it was in no condition to give us any aid. No one has seen it since.”

“Ishyrus certainly got off with a slap on the wrist!” complained Delaney, fiercely. “It deserves worse than that for all the misery it caused.”

“True. But the Ishyrus of the moment bears no resemblance to the Ishyrus who caused the grief, so there is scant satisfaction to be gained from its demise. My guess is that this unhappy Seraph suffers more each day from profound remorse than any of us could stand. If I were to say who ‘got off easy’ in this affair, Delaney, the Droom would top my list.”

“Why?” asked Windglow. “What do you hear of them? Are they causing more trouble among the animals?”

“If they are not, they will,” said Digtry. “I can confirm what we suspected. Ishyrus, in its `ends-justifies-means’ mode, made a pact with the Droom to turn the bison against the wolves. Ishyrus designed and set the trap in exchange for a one-time free passage through Droom lands for a caravan of Raxxars, who brought with them three captive Morps. Ishyrus required one Morp, you remember for breaking the bonds, and kept two in reserve. Which was prudent as one of the Morps died in transit and another at Point Harrow.

“At any rate, Ishyrus, using the access of dreams, deluded the bison into believing that the wolves had killed some of their young. Ishyrus certainly did not intend the genocide that nearly resulted. More likely it just wanted the wolves, bison, and Drooms to be preoccupied with each other long enough so that it would be left free to establish itself up at Point Harrow."

“And the Droom were stupid enough to get sucked into that trap?” asked Delaney. “Couldn’t they see that once Ishyrus established itself, they would be at its mercy, and that of all the Nephilim, as well?”

“No one in the lower realms knew the realm bonds could be broken. We all thought them to be immutable laws. The Droom had no cause to fear Ishyrus or any Fifth Realmer entering their domain. Why not humor this mad Fifth Realmer in exchange for the easy destruction of their archenemies? They had every reason to believe they could deal with Ishyrus if it became a menace. Had they known what it could accomplish, they would have acted differently.”

Delaney shuddered. “The Droom sound like total scum. I’m glad I never met them.”

“Droom cannot be trusted,” agreed Digtry. “Which is a problem of a wider scope now that the realm bonds are gone. I fear the Droom will expand into the lower realms, where their strength can gain them territory at little cost.”

“Will they come after Tishaara?” asked Roland, glancing at Windglow’s anxious face. “And what about the Nephilim, now that they can travel wherever they want? We have been on pins and needles since the destruction of the bonds, waiting for them to show up.”

Those questions gnawed close to the surface in all Tishaarans. Roland could sense the change in these people since the breaking of the realm bonds. Each morning they awoke fresh to the reality that the realm bonds were no more. This fact had stripped even the bravest of them of at least a layer of their ordinary optimism.

Roland tried to imagine himself in the Tishaarans’ place. Although he had lived in the realms for less than a year, even he mourned the passing of an era. He longed for the protection of the realm bonds, the security of the past, and felt terribly exposed without them.

Digtry steepled his fingers and screwed up his face in thought. After a long, thoughtful consideration, he said, “Tishaara was not without dangers before, nor will it be tomorrow. You are right to fear the unleashed demons of the Fifth Realm and the open path into the lower realms now available to the Droom.

“But do not let fear rule you. The world changes. We adapt. We go on. In fact, this could be a blessing in disguise.

“A blessing? How so?” asked Windglow, nearly jumping out of his chair.

“The greater the pain and fear and suffering in the realms, the more deadly comes the threat from the Nephilim. Is this not powerful incentive for all creatures to banish these things from their midst? Perhaps even the tyrant will recognize that peace and justice are not just abstract ideals, but hold very key to survival.”

Digtry let this sink in for a few moments, and then added, “I can also report that the Lumberjacks at last understand the situation. They are eager to make amends to Tishaara for their mistreatment of us last fall. Tishaarans may have occasion to give thanks that the giants of the Big Timber stand directly between Tishaara and Droom.”

After a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, Roland asked, “Did you ever find any trace of Berch?”

“No.” Digtry laid on his back and stared at the textured white ceiling. He offered no more on that painful subject. His eyes were closed for so long that Roland wondered if he had gone to sleep.

“Please,” said Windglow, expectantly. “Your other news!” The Tishaaran was as hopeless as ever at concealing his feelings. Both Delaney and Roland knew that something earth-shaking must be on its way.

Turning to Delaney, Digtry said, “Ehiloru sends greetings, as does Dhayelle. The prophet is advising the collosal work of rebuilding Orduna. You will be interested to know that the first act of the Senate after they regrouped was to outlaw Morp-baiting. Passed unanimously.”

“You shouldn’t need a law for something like that,” snapped Delaney.

“Spoken like a true Tishaaran,” said Digtry. “I’ve also heard talk of erecting a monument on the border where the Morp made their stand.

"But moving on, Dhayelle, alas, has been packing for home. I suspect she is already on her way. And the Meshoma remember both of you with respect.”

He let his listeners drink from the spring of memories for a moment before he continued, “Eldorean has been convicted of treason by the Rushbrook courts for his part in Radigan’s conspiracy. Delaney, it may appeal to your sense of justice to know that he now occupies the very cell in which he once placed you. He has a couple of cell mates, Flaymond and Mercuto, who were bound over to the Brookings penal system while their owm city is under restoration. And that,” he said, with a mighty sigh, “is the extent of my report.

Windglow choked on his tea. “What do you mean?” he spluttered. “What about ...”

“Oh, yes, there is one more thing,” said Digtry, smiling at Windglow’s discomfort. “While in Orduna, I helped reshelve the Citadel libraries, particularly the most ancient of the Archives. The Senate exempted me from their traditional restrictions so I could assist them in classifying some of the older material. While doing so, I kept an eye out for ancient volumes of Fifth Realm history in hopes of finding clues as to how the bonds might be restored.”

Roland perked up. Of course! The bonds had been created long ago. If they had been forged once, they could be reconstructed.

“Sadly,” continued Digtry, “during its assault on Orduna, Draxis came across a relay of wheelbarrows hauling books into hiding. In its lust for ruin, it demolished them. Those books contained the knowledge that Ishyrus sought concerning ways to neutralize and control its fellow Fifth Realmers. Included among those volumes were books with information on realm bonds.”

Roland found he had been holding his breath. At the disappointing conclusion to the story, sighed heavily. So much for hope.

Characteristically, however, Digtry was toying with them.

“A few volumes from that load were rescued,” Digtry continued. “One of these was a dusty tome so brittle with age that its spine crunched like a wafer upon the slightest touch. I recruited two expert archivists to examine the book and make a fresh copy.

“But enough about me. How how goes it with you?”

“Digtry!” pleaded Windglow, beside himself with anticipation.

“All right." The twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. "The book was a definitive work on the Science and Methodology of Cold Flame. It contained a section that you may find interesting. I quote, ‘While Cold Flame transfer to an outgoing destination is laboriously complex, and beyond the scope of many Fifth Realm powers, return to the original point of transfer via Cold Flame is a simple procedure.”

“And what is that supposed to mean in the ‘common tongue,’ as you call it?” asked Delaney.

Digtry sat up and swiveled his gaze slowly between Delaney and Roland. “Ever since I have met you, I have pondered how you people came to our realms. I questioned the few surviving Brookings who worked on Reef’s Island, and thereby discovered that the dates of major Cold Flame experimentation on the island correspond with the dates of your arrivals. From that, one can reasonably deduce that your appearance was an unforeseen byproduct of Ishyrus’s efforts”

“Ishyrus brought us here?” asked Delaney, incredulous.

“Unforeseen and unwittingly, although Radigan was at the controls. But yes. Product of error and experiment. Delaney arrived in the early stages amid flashes of light and sound, a good ways from Reef’s Island. That was when the experiments were most crude and imperfect. Berch arrived next, in a cloud of smoke and a bit of flame, nearer to the origin of the experiment. Roland arrived last when Ishyrus had made some major advances in the procedure, and the Cold Flames ignited briefly but did not take hold. He wound up in the precise vicinity of the experiments.”

“Wow!” said Roland. “I guess that makes sense. You think it was an accident, then. Ishyrus didn’t know that its experiments brought in aliens like us?”

“I’m sure it had no idea.”

“But why weren’t there more people like us who came later?” asked Delaney. “Like when Ishyrus used the Cold Flames at Point Harrow?”

“By then they had worked the bugs out of the technique. The process was streamlined, efficient, and produced no more wasteful and unintended side effects.”

“Do you know what this means?” jumped in Windglow, unable to hold back any longer. “You were transported here by Cold Flames. According to this book, reversing the process to return you to the original point of departure is a simple matter.”

Roland and Delaney stared at each other with wide eyes, suspicious yet hopeful. This was news they had scarcely dared hope to hear. Both had resigned themselves to being stuck in the realmlands for good. Now Digtry had suddenly thrown open a door to their past.

“Are you really sure it will work?” croaked Delaney, looking more frightened than intrigued, more anxious than thankful.”

Digtry shrugged. “Naught ventured, naught gained.”

“But Cold Flame transfer is a Fifth Realm power,” said Roland, breathlessly. “That means we’d have to go up to the Fifth Realm, wouldn’t we?” There was not a ghost of chance that he would ever risk imagining himself within miles of that place. Nor could he imagine Delaney lasting two minutes in the haunting world of immortal spirits.

Digtry glared at him. “The realm bonds have been broken. Must I keep reminding you? We can do it in this room. Now, if you like.”

Roland gulped. Delaney stared at him with fish eyes.

“Or you can stay with us for as long as you like,” offered Windglow, hopefully.

Roland could hardly believe it but now that the matter had come up, he was not certain he wanted to go. “Are you going to be around a few days?” he asked Digtry. “I

think Delaney and I need some time to think about this.”

Delaney nodded gratefully.

In the end, little more than a day passed before the initial shock wore off and common sense began to take hold. Roland was staring out the window of his Tishaaran guest house, trying to remember what his father looked like, or whether he was a good man, when Delaney burst into the room.

“Chocolate,” she announced, her face set.

“Chocolate?”

“Chocolate.”

“What, is this word association?”

“Or fried chicken if that’s what you’re still all about. Roland, I’m ready to do it. Oh, I know I’m going to miss this place so badly, especially all the friends we’ve made . . .”

“But you’ll give it all up for a chocolate bar?” asked Roland, dumbfounded. Her periodic pining over the lost treasure of chocolate had been a running joke that had begun to grow stale. Not only was he shocked, he was dismayed by her attitude, and more than a little disappointed to think of her as so shallow.

“Bite me,” she said, wounded by his implication. “Chocolate is one of the few things I can remember, and sometimes I miss it so bad that my mouth starts watering. The thing is, I know chocolate isn’t such a big deal. There are things back there that meant a jillion times more to me, and I need to remember what they are. I need to find them again! Whenever I mention chocolate and no one knows what I’m talking about, it reminds me that I don’t belong here, Roland. What would I do with my life if I stayed? I would have, like, no life."

“You make some good points,” Roland conceded.

“Wait a minute!” Her eyes flashed. “Don’t let me talk you into anything. I don’t want it on my--”

Roland felt his anger rising. Then, all of a sudden, he let it go. He started laughing.

“What’s with you? Quit laughing at me,” said Delaney, punching him weakly on the shoulder.”

“I’m sorry,” said Roland. “It’s just that this talk is so familiar.”

“Yes,” admitted Delaney, blushing. “And I don’t like how that ended.”

“Me, neither. And I had already come to that conclusion, Delaney. I want to go home.”

They spent the next morning saying their goodbyes, and it did take all morning. More than once they second-guessed their decision. Delaney’s chin trembled like a broiling strip of bacon as she clung to Shaska, wiping tears from her eyes. Roland bit his lip hard as he hugged Sloat and Belfray for the final time.

Puddles managed to break the tension momentarily, to Windglow’s despair. When Windglow surprised Roland and Delaney by producing the fluffy little creature from beneath his cloak, Delaney said, “Puddles! I couldn’t leave without a goodbye kiss from you.”

Puddles recoiled and squawked, “I’d rather kiss a Raxxar’s butt.”

“Deal with it!” said Delaney, laughing through her tears as she planted the kiss on his forehead.

Both Roland and Delaney then leaned heavily against Windglow as he enfolded them in his spidery arms. They shut their eyes, helplessly adrift in sorrow.

“I’ll think of you whenever I hear the words ‘beg your pardon’,” sniffed Delaney.

“And I shall think of you every day that I and my family draw a free breath in the land of the realms,” answered Windglow in a trembling voice.

When at last they wrenched their heavy hearts from the Tishaaran, they joined Digtry in the center of the main street. The entire populace ringed the three of them, all standing quietly, somberly.

“Ready?” asked Digtry, with maddening nonchalance.

“Oh, Digtry,” croaked Delaney, “I can’t bear to say another goodbye.”

Roland, not trusting himself to words, weakly nodded in agreement.

“Then I shall spare you,” said Digtry. “May you take back as much of us to your home as you are leaving of yourselves with us.” His voice, too, cracked at the end, and he turned his face from them. Before either Delaney or Roland could react, he uttered a phrase in a strange language, threw a powder into their eyes, and was gone.

The last fading words Roland heard were, “Remember, this is not magic.”