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They lie in each other’s arms in such beauty as makes the gods envious, and for the first time in so long, Iridan, Oracle, is filled with hope. Even to such as I, the future is cloudy, uncertain -- oracle or no, I see nothing clearly, which is the reason for the riddles with which my kind answer kings and carpenters.
They speak is whispers of finding the temple -- and the tomb of my own beloved, my life mate, Hellas, who lived on as a man and fought many years against the legions of Vayal, while I was trapped in the enchanter’s net which holds me still. I see the chasm of the past with painful clarity, where all that is gone is beyond remedy and can only be mourned. I glimpse the ocean of the future through a swirling mist of unformed time. What lies ahead becomes clear only as it draws near to the ‘now’ in which mortal men live and die. Even for the Oracle, all else is dreams.
O, speak thou to Iridan! Only ask thy questions, and his answers shall be as plain as can be wrought by any Seer. Speak to me, Faunos Phinneas Aeson, imbued with the Power … and Soran, vibrant with the courage and strength of youth and love.
Here is the gods’ own truth: youth is steel, but love is stronger.
They speak of plans half-made, and kiss and caress, discovering themselves in each other. They know only that they have far to travel, across waters filled with peril and lands dark with the high magic of forgotten ages. Such are young men’s dreams … Iridan knows the truth, but would not whisper of it even as the price of freedom.
The way ahead is filled with pain, but their solace is each other, and they would choose no other path. Desire is spent, and they kiss softly now, whispering their shared hopes aloud, secrets that, once spoken, are no less binding than vows.
At last the outcast prince of Vayal lays his head upon the witchboy’s breast to hear his heart. Knowest thou, Soranchele Izamal-xiu Ulkan, that heart beats for thee.
Helios is at the glory of his noonday zenith as two galleys from the isles of Incaria make their way west toward the port of Thebes. Far beyond lies Jaymaca, across seas which are the domain of Hurucan. Distant in the east lie the Keloi Shores, as wreathed in mist as are oracles’ dreams and the myth-like memories from the time of time the great ice.
For the moment, Soran and Faunos have forgotten the road ahead. They are young, and love consumes them, as it should; and none save Iridan knows how greatly they will need that love, and each other, on the path they have chosen.
They speak is whispers of finding the temple -- and the tomb of my own beloved, my life mate, Hellas, who lived on as a man and fought many years against the legions of Vayal, while I was trapped in the enchanter’s net which holds me still. I see the chasm of the past with painful clarity, where all that is gone is beyond remedy and can only be mourned. I glimpse the ocean of the future through a swirling mist of unformed time. What lies ahead becomes clear only as it draws near to the ‘now’ in which mortal men live and die. Even for the Oracle, all else is dreams.
O, speak thou to Iridan! Only ask thy questions, and his answers shall be as plain as can be wrought by any Seer. Speak to me, Faunos Phinneas Aeson, imbued with the Power … and Soran, vibrant with the courage and strength of youth and love.
Here is the gods’ own truth: youth is steel, but love is stronger.
They speak of plans half-made, and kiss and caress, discovering themselves in each other. They know only that they have far to travel, across waters filled with peril and lands dark with the high magic of forgotten ages. Such are young men’s dreams … Iridan knows the truth, but would not whisper of it even as the price of freedom.
The way ahead is filled with pain, but their solace is each other, and they would choose no other path. Desire is spent, and they kiss softly now, whispering their shared hopes aloud, secrets that, once spoken, are no less binding than vows.
At last the outcast prince of Vayal lays his head upon the witchboy’s breast to hear his heart. Knowest thou, Soranchele Izamal-xiu Ulkan, that heart beats for thee.
Helios is at the glory of his noonday zenith as two galleys from the isles of Incaria make their way west toward the port of Thebes. Far beyond lies Jaymaca, across seas which are the domain of Hurucan. Distant in the east lie the Keloi Shores, as wreathed in mist as are oracles’ dreams and the myth-like memories from the time of time the great ice.
For the moment, Soran and Faunos have forgotten the road ahead. They are young, and love consumes them, as it should; and none save Iridan knows how greatly they will need that love, and each other, on the path they have chosen.
Here ends the First Book of
The Fall of the Atlantean Empire
