Back from Oblivion

Chapter 1

Time doesn’t work the same in Oblivion as it does on earth, and for that…I am only partially grateful.  A little bit of time here equals a whole lot of time back home and to be candid…I didn’t want to stay in Oblivion any longer than was necessary.

It’s been almost three hours since we arrived and that’s not enough time to learn very much.  I’m told our minds have a heck of a time processing where we are and how it all works, so my dissertation will probably be inaccurate at best.  That having been said, I wrote it all down as well as I understood the event; it gave me something constructive to do while we waited.

Reflecting back on the last few moments at Mt. Drago, I have to admit, nothing about what happened could’ve been predicted.  The jump through to Israel was but the blink of an eye, and then everything went black.  Yes, I know I said that before, but it bears repeating if for no other reason than the lack of cognizance for how long it took.  It could’ve been an instant, or years for all we knew.

When the lights came back on, we were standing in front of a series of twenty feet tall, semi-circular metal tubes, interspersed with large monoliths topped with amber colored crystal spheres.  The bases of the monoliths were approximately three feet square and roughly twelve inches tall, making the entire height of the column somewhere around ten feet.  After each five of the ten-inch diameter tubes there was another set of monoliths, one on each side, that separated the following five.  There was a total of thirty metal tubes and twelve

GATEWAY TO OBLIVION

monoliths, all ending with a single column and sphere at the completion of what suspiciously resembled a gauntlet.  To the far left and right of the above-mentioned architecture, were semi-circular walls, causing the apparatus to appear more like an open aired funnel. 

I have to assume the atmosphere was compatible with our biological requirements because the gauntlet allowed us to see the sky within this other-worldly environment while obviously being outside.  If the conditions here were anything like earth, then I could safely say the air was oxygen rich, and either early in the morning or just at sunset.  Nothing more was possible due to the lack of information to determine east/west orientation.  I pulled my helmet down and took a deep breath.  More oxygen than I first suspected, regardless of what the screens in my suit had told me.  At least we wouldn’t suffocate.

Queen Mother wriggled free of the bear hug hold the Dark Lord had been using when they went through the portal and stared openly at the scene playing out before us.  I don’t think she knew Invectum, in human form, nor Demi and I were behind her.

I moved to one side and Queen Mother glanced back seeing the small troop standing silently behind her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but then again, the scenery shouldn’t be what I’m looking at either.  I’m at a loss for where we are or what this bizarre apparatus is used for.

The Dark Lord had turned back as well but the man’s demeanor showed a level of fear uncommon to his character.

What in the name of all that is holy…is that?

He was pointing toward the area behind me, so I turned to see a vast wall of blackened nothingness that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction save toward us.  It was as if the very fabric of the universe started there and contained virtually nothing more than a blank slate.  Demi and I took a couple of steps away from the phenomenon and stayed close to each other.  My gut told me it was unformed matter and infinite space, but my intellect said nothing in the universe should be able to hold it back in check.  Especially not in the form of a blank wall.

Up to that point, Invectum hadn’t said a word.  He stood like a statue and wore a perpetual frown.  Potential violence had stamped itself across his brow and would explode at the first opportunity, or in this case, if the King of the demons so much as leaned in Queen Mother’s direction.  At the moment, the Dark Lord was oblivious, pun intended, to the dragon’s malicious intent.

The way out of our current predicament seemed pretty obvious to me and I spun around to conduct an examination of the probable egress.  One can’t be too careful when confronted by a wall of nothingness, especially when going the opposite direction clearly shows an exit.  There was also the possibility of jumping out of the frying pan and into an open flame, but then again, nothing ventured, right?

The Dark Lord was the first to move and made short work out of the next few metal tubes on his way to the far end of the gauntlet.  Queen Mother made an exasperated noise and headed in the same direction.

Wait…I think it’s important to stay together!

The Dark Lord never looked back, and both I and the others could hear him chuckling.

Queen Mother stopped, turned and gestured for us to follow her.  I glanced back at Demi and it occurred to me, I didn’t remember climbing down from her upon arrival.  Whatever got us here, separated us during the transit and that unnerved me greatly.  It also came to my attention that neither Demi nor Invectum were in dragon form, their appearance conforming to the other three in our party.

Reunited, we increased our speed in an attempt to catch the Dark Lord.  None of us wanted him to find a way back, successfully trapping the rest . . . wherever this was.

When we finally caught the self-professed Lord, he was on his knees, writhing in pain.  Bear in mind, none of us saw what took him down, there was nothing visible and he gave every indication of abdominal pain and suffocation.  Clawing at his throat with one hand, and holding his stomach with the other, the monarch swung around, imploring us to help him in his moment of need.

The second the Ariella’s hand touched his shoulder, three Savants materialized just this side of the last column.  I couldn’t be sure; all of them looked like the same person, but they felt like the same three that visited us at Mt. Drago before.

Lined up like soldiers, the middle Savant, Caesarea, stepped forward and handed Queen Mother a Post-It Note.  The note read:

The worlds are nearly ready…please wait here until we get back.

Before Queen Mother could utter a word, the three Savants and the Dark Lord suddenly became visible particles after an audible popping sound and were drawn away from the Gauntlet.  The stream of particles formed a conical shape and darted toward one of three massive pyramids in the distance.  The structures hadn’t been there a moment ago, but now stood in sharp relief within a sea of large stones.  The stones could be seen from the vantage point inside the gauntlet and stretched as far as the eye could see.

They were all similar in size but in some cases had remarkably different shapes, albeit each one was reminiscent to the Hearth in Caesarea Maritima, Israel.

While we’re on that subject, Queen Mother’s plan, before all this went down…was to force the Dark Lord into the portal at Mt. Drago.  The portal was connected to the Hearth in Israel and that contrivance should’ve sent the Dark Lord to Oblivion.  But see, here’s the thing; the one time I saw Oblivion, it was very much like unformed matter and infinite space.  Just black and formless, certainly not objective in its orientation.  Millions of objects were visible from where I stood, so how in blue blazes could this be Oblivion?  For that matter, how could a vast sea of nothingness have mountains in the background, a horizon line and millions of stones?  Glancing up again, admittedly, the sky was the wrong color, but it was there for all of us to see.

Queen Mother made a sound spawned from pure exasperation and slumped over, placing her hands firmly on her knees.

I’d bet even money, we’re not in Kansas, Toto.

I nodded but was secretly glad the Savants overshot the black nothingness by several yards or we wouldn’t be where we are.  Wherever that is.

The other three had the same look on their faces as I’m sure mine displayed; if the wall of black starts moving in our direction, we’re cooked.  The Savant wanted us to stay where we were until she returned, but I for one will begin making tracks the minute that wall begins edging toward our position in the gauntlet.

The area was still intact and the blackness held its position but I’ve always felt it was better to be prepared for something to happen than to have something happen and not be prepared.  In the interest of self-preservation, I attempted to walk past the last column and was physically thrown back to the previous metal tube.  My suit automatically closed the helmet and Walter and I impacted with the floor of the gauntlet.  It didn’t hurt, but the swiftness startled me and the force was more than enough to outdo the onboard gyros.  So much for saving ourselves if the black wall moves.

Queen Mother sauntered over to where I was now gaining my feet and chuckled at my slowness to a standing position.

What part of stay here till I get back, did you not understand?

Once I got to my feet and stabilized the gyros, my answer to the Queen of the Dragons was succinct and chivalrous, at least it was supposed to be.

I determined there was a force field keeping us from utilizing the egress, my Queen.  We should probably wait until the Savant returns before continuing.

It would’ve been more impressive had I not laughed, but hey, practice makes perfect.

Thank you, Emerald Warrior.  I feel safer knowing that.  Are you sure you can’t plow through it?  How do you feel about best two out of three?

Okay, I guess I deserved that, but the scenario as it played out could’ve been considerably worse . . . the suit didn’t sustain any damage and we know more about our current status.

We have no choice but to wait for the Savants and I really should’ve known better, considering how our last meeting with them turned out.

The gauntlet apparatus, upon closer inspection, was conducting energy, and a pulsing throb could be felt if you became still and stood for a few moments.  Walter showed me the scans from the moment of impact to the subsequent distance thrown, and the pounds of thrust it took to drop us to the floor.  As embarrassing as it may seem, it had no more force on the suit than that of a nine-volt battery.  The amperage was low, as was the frequency, so I was clueless as to how the result could be as apparently devastating as it was.  I reiterate, there was no damage to the suit, which is why the escapade got rated so high on the creep factor.  In other words, it shouldn’t have done what it did.

The Savants showed up seconds later and gave me a look that would’ve cooked an egg.  How was I to know they’d be able to tell I’d tested their security?  Yeah, I know, they control everything and I’d been a bad little Machinist in their absence.  What were they going to do about it anyway?  Write me a scathing Post-It Note?

Queen Mother apologized for my insensitivity and the one I thought was Caesarea nodded knowingly.  While I was busy swallowing my pride, we all turned into visible particles, something we were actually able to see in the others around us and ourselves as well.  While I was attempting to rationalize the event, we shot out of the gauntlet and flew toward the middle pyramid, never slowing until penetrating the outer wall.  I estimated the distance to be about a hundred yards but things in the distance are difficult to judge at excessive speeds.

Inside was an exact replica of the gate room at Mt. Drago, only with vending machines.  Of all the things I might’ve expected, trust me . . . vending machines didn’t make the list.

There were no slots to accept money; good news and the bad was when my heart dropped into my backside . . . we might have to stay for an extended period of time.

On the other side of the non-existent coin was the probability of witnessing what might be a pocket universe, or more likely, a pocket world.  I can’t even fathom how something like this could be built, the power consumption alone should make it impossible.  We are, however, talking about a group of creatures that control events that boggle the mind, so why not pocket worlds?

The one I call Caesarea, or her cohorts didn’t materialize upon arrival but five minutes later were suddenly there by the vending machines, all gazing at us like lab rats.

Stacks of Post-It-Notes were noticeably present in each of their hands and the Savants appeared unsure whether or not to talk to us.  I think they remembered how Queen Mother responded to them before on their method of communication, or the lack of it. 

  Caesarea stepped forward, nodded her head, and in a childlike voice addressed us for the first time.

The Dark Lord was supposed to come through on his own and since we had to scramble to accommodate, a short waiting period will be incurred before we can send you home.  An extra inflationary zone had to be created to house your corporeal shells during the detainment.

Screens slid in from the side of my head’s up display showing the three pyramids we’d seen from the gauntlet.  The inflationary zone in question was the third pyramid, the very one we were in, at least that was the assumption.  Walter also gave me a crash course in the concept of inflationary zones and from what I could gather, they were indeed tiny pocket worlds.

From the description, I can only conclude, the pocket world containing the three pyramids or inflationary zones is the foundation and that means worlds within the world.  It also makes for brain strain and a hell of a headache.

As it turns out, the larger world is airless and totally covered in hearth stones, the environment being the main deterrent against theft.  The three smaller worlds have working atmospheric environments, one with ozone, and the other two containing oxygen as the primary gas.  I guess that means the Savants breathe the same mixture as us while in human form.  It also means the gauntlet was setup for us mouth breathers as well.  Probably a good thing too since we stumbled into this area without so much as an invitation.  Let’s face facts; they could’ve put an end to us the moment we arrived.

I’m getting a little ahead of myself here but bear with me.  The Savants allowed us to see the pocket world where the Dark Lord was being detained and a brief description for how it works.  We asked about his incarceration and they aren’t like Chatty Cathy, so instead we were given a short, guided tour of the facilities.

The entire mass of land within the world where the Dark Lord will spend his imprisonment sentence couldn’t have been more than a twelve-foot diameter circle of rough ground comprised of clumped dirt.  There was no furniture, bathroom facilities or accessories to make one’s life bearable, with one exception; a vending machine.

Clearly seen through the front of the machine were multiple rows of packages, all of which held single pieces of bread or small bottles of what looked like water.  We were told the machine would dispense one of each, three times a day, every day for the duration of his sentence.

It didn’t seem all that severe until we were told his pocket world ran differently than ours.  The Dark Lord’s world was an exact one to one ratio of time spent here to time elapsed back home.  That means bread and water three times a day for one thousand years and no possible amenities for the same duration.  It was almost enough to make you feel sorry for him.  Almost…

Ringing the island was a lake roughly half the size of the original Lake of Fire and surrounding that were two circular patches of land, five miles across with a river that ran between them.  An aerial view made the arrangement appear like a gigantic bull’s eye.  In each case, the water was on fire in large, random areas and smelled like Sulphur.  It apparently matched the conditions in the Lake of Fire and the River Styx.  The Dark Lord’s fear of moving water was undoubtedly exacerbated by the close proximity to enormous quantities of toxic liquid.  Needless to say, his living conditions were inordinately extreme and the length of time spent there would seem like an eternity.  In this particular case, it hadn’t paid to be a criminal.

I stopped and reminded myself of the list of atrocities previously performed by the power-hungry psychotic known as the Dark Lord, and laid my sympathies to one side.  As a very smart man once said; If you’re industrious enough to make your own bed, then you should also understand that one day you’ll have to lay down on it.  Understandably, this was a bed of nails, but the outcome remains the same.

I also wonder what the Savant’s predilection with vending machines is all about and no matter how I view the phenomenon, it still strikes me as a bit macabre.  As a side note; I like our vending machines much better and the selection, by comparison, is awesome.

To this point we still hadn’t been told how long our stay was to last but I felt fairly sure is wasn’t going to be like his.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Queen Mother’s particles separated from the rest, floated down to the ground, and coalesced beside the Dark Lord.  He watched from a sitting position close to the center of the land mass.

Come here to gloat?  It doesn’t matter.  They can’t hold me forever and my demons aren’t going anywhere.  I was sentenced to the Provinces for an eternity and the Savants boast they can hold me for a thousand years.  What’s a thousand years compared to that?  I’d be careful if I was you though.  What happens when the Savants don’t agree with your policies?  You’ll be in the prison next to me.

Queen Mother glanced around and I think she was surprised the Savants didn’t force her back to the particle stream.

I have to admit, I don’t understand.  It didn’t have to be this way.  Your demons would’ve followed you gladly, no matter what you asked.  They didn’t need to be treated badly, tortured, or killed.  They would’ve rallied to anything you requested of them.  Your cruelty didn’t improve their productivity and you never needed to keep them in fear of your reprisals.  All they ever wanted was your love and respect.  What you gave them was loathing and hatred, the two things required to achieve the loss of redemption.  Without that redemption, you’ve sentenced them to an eternity of misery, and for what?  You’ve got a thousand years to reflect on what you’ve done.  My hope is that you’ll take that time to work on your anger issues and learn from your mistakes.  A good ruler never places himself first; those that he rules come before everything or he’s no ruler at all.  Believe me, I learned that from watching you and albeit the lesson was gleaned from the negative point of view, it did make an impact on my life.  I still only want the best for you, and I grieve that it takes this to give you that chance.

The Dark Lord pulled himself to a standing position, straightened his coat and attempted to appear regal.

I don’t need you . . . I don’t need anyone.  Leave me, and don’t come back.

A look of finality swept across his face and with a sweeping motion, the Dark Lord turned away from his daughter, the conversation over.

Queen Mother hesitated for a moment, tears rolling down her face.

Goodbye, father.

The particle stream re-integrated her, complete with the audible popping sound and at the last second, the Dark Lord glanced over his shoulder.  I can’t be sure but I thought that maybe a moment of regret flashed across his face.  It was something I would think about many times in the ensuing years.

The stream of particles swept across the expanse of stones and all of us, Queen Mother, Invectum, Demi, and myself, re-integrated back inside the replica of the gate room.  Nobody uttered a word for a few minutes, it was as if nothing could be said that would make a difference in the situation.  There wasn’t a comment to be shared that would ease the pain or alter the outcome and everyone honored the silence.

Caesarea strolled in from the outside, quite literally walked in through a wall, and sat down in a chair just to the left of the vending machines.

Construct a message for the people of Mt. Drago, telling them whatever you wish for them to know.  When it is completed, we will send it through the Hearth.  You all will be leaving in about two hours from now and you have been here approximately sixty minutes.  We know that seems fairly quick, but in that time, several months will have elapsed at your mountain.  Because of this we have decided to allow a message to be sent to ease the sorrow they must be feeling.  I am sorry, but even we have limitations when manipulating the fabric of time and space.

Caesarea produced a stack of Post-It-Notes and a crayon, thrusting them out in our direction.  Queen Mother graciously accepted them but shot a glance in my direction that said volumes about needing utensils of a higher order.  The Savant spun on her heel and strode back through the wall.

I’d been carrying around my journal inside the suit for quite some time and was sure the volume would serve the purpose of conveying our message to a much greater degree than a Post-It-Note.  I even said as much while I pulled it free.  We conversed about what needed to be said and agreed to keep it short.  We didn’t want too many questions, none of which we could answer, until after making it home.  I, for one, didn’t want to write anything that might offend the Savants or give away pieces of information they might consider a breech in their security.  I opened the journal and turned to the last page.  This is what the note said.

Hey guys, Tanis here.  Queen Mother, Invectum, and Demi say hi.  Just wanted to let you all know we're still alive; Oblivion isn't as bad as what you've been told.  The Savants have created a Pocket Universe, which in laymen's terms means a little tiny planet.  They have the Dark Lord, and plan on keeping him here for the time being.  And that's the other thing, time doesn't move here like it does at home.  A small amount of time here equals a whole heck of a lot of time there.  For instance, we've been here for about an hour, but there, I know it's been several months, right?  I know it sucks, but we're going as fast as we can, and we should've amassed the correct amount of energy to open the Hearth in about two hours.

Now, the good news . . . the Dark Lord won't make it back for a thousand years, your time.  So, don't give up on us.  We'll be back as soon as we can.

Remember, keep the faith, believe in each other, and never lose sight of what's truly important . . . DRAGONS!

When we were finished, the three Savants took my journal and merged into the particle stream we’d become accustomed to since our arrival.  They came back thirty minutes later but never mentioned if sending the journal back had been successful.  I still needed to write while waiting, so prior to giving the Savants the document, I removed about a third of the blank pages and continued to jot down my thoughts.

As anti-climactic as it might be, nothing else happened nor did we see the Savants again until right before we left to go home.

At the three-hour mark, the Savants streamed in, materialized and nodded to Queen Mother.  Caesarea handed her a Post-It-Note and gave the weirdest looking smile I’ve ever seen.  Imagine a being, older than dirt and during all that time spent doing whatever it is they do, never actually smiling until today.  I’m not talking about some socially polite and petite smile, now mind you.  What I’m indicating is the full on, face cracking smile that invades your being and projects up to, and includes your eyes.  Caesarea’s entire being lit up and I watched as Queen Mother felt the impact of the little Savant’s goodbye.  Queen Mother had never been all that fond of this sentient race of beings and with good reason.  I knew right down to my socks that had changed and her attitude about the species known as Savants had altered radically.  The sentiment changed everyone there and only an idiot wouldn’t have noticed.  I’m crazy, not stupid.  I noticed.  The Post-It-Note read;

Time to go home.  All will be well.  If you need us, we’ll know.

The trip back to the Gauntlet, or as I’ve come to refer to it, the Gateway to Oblivion, was quick and uneventful, as particle streams go.  We found ourselves just inside the barrier that previously knocked me down and there were no Savants upon arrival.

I was just on the edge of being chafed by the suit, but there was no amount of convincing me to stay in Oblivion with it down.  I refer you back to the whole crazy and stupid thing.  The suit has always been my first and last line of defense so, visiting Oblivion, albeit however pleasant, was just a little too out there for me to feel comfortable.

The last leg of our journey amounted to traversing the open aired funnel, until we were all standing a few yards away from the wall of blackness.  None of us were willing to say it, but approaching the wall wasn’t something anyone with any sense would volunteer to try.

We kept looking at each other, no one wanting to be first at admitting cowardice, when the wall swept forward so fast, there was no time to even move.  Everything went black and stayed that way for God knows how long, until we strode into the Gate Room at Mt. Drago.

Chapter 2

The celebration of our arrival at home lasted for almost three days.  It was like a continuous barbecue, complete with music, dancing, merriment and inebriation.  A lot of inebriation, with a king-sized headache that lasted longer than the party had waged.  For us it had only been a few hours but here at Drago the wait was agonizingly longer for everyone.  I had to keep reminding myself of that fact or face off to the realization that the entire mountain populace was bug nuts.

Just a side note; I had to wear the suit almost continuously due to the overzealous nature of both Bubo and Chaos.  I couldn’t go more than a five-minute stretch without one or both of the dragons tossing me around like a sack of spuds.  To say they were happy to see me was a gross understatement.  I can’t say I felt any differently.

Queen Mother was clearly wanting to inventory everything that had been fixed since the battle in her home, but also didn’t want to spoil the party or call it off prematurely.  For the first time in her life, no one was actively trying to kill her or otherwise cause her grief, and from all outward signs, she was not dealing with it very well.

As with any other event in life, it has an end, and the populace of Mt. Drago had to return to work.  You would be surprised how much piled up during the festivities; dirty dishes, bathing, and caring for dragons as in cleaning up after them, and all of these tasks are pretty much Herculean in their scope after several days of ignoring them.  I for one, needed a bath, and the chafed areas that were rubbed raw from my suit were beet red from neglect.  A good night’s sleep wouldn’t hurt anything either, and as tired as my dragons were, they would all pile up around me. We, collectively, would receive some well-deserved rest.

All that accomplished, I was asleep seconds after my head hit the furs.  My dreams were of the pocket world/universe.  I still don’t know the extent and wasn’t sure if they were good or bad.  You’re probably wondering to which of the two I was referencing, but see that’s a problem, because the answer is yes to both.  Waking gave me a strange feeling and going back to sleep wasn’t possible so, I left my area in search of caffeine.

I couldn’t help but notice the section of ramp leading up to the Castle that had been destroyed.  I mean we partied within eyeshot of the catastrophe for several days.  It was totally understandable why it had not been repaired while we were gone; no one was sure how to go about fixing something that defied logistical probability.  The break was over seven hundred feet up and the gap was wider than anyone could jump.  That having been said, it still needed to be repaired, so quite a bit of think-tanking would have to be initiated.

I had no more than walked out to Commons when the first of the meetings was announced, and it occurred to me there would be no morning coffee until we all rendezvoused at the Castle.  It was all the incentive I needed.

The first hurtle was getting everyone scheduled to be at the meeting, one mile up at the Veranda area.  Not all the persons of interest were riders with winged dragons.  We were supposed to discuss how to rebuild the ramp system leading to the very place that was inaccessible.  The irony wasn’t wasted on me, I assure you.

We had plenty of dragons large enough to carry them, of course, but the non-winged riders were understandably a bit disgruntled about the need for having a Castle in the first place.  It set a line between the Haves and the Have Nots, if you catch my drift.

For many generations, the non-winged dragons were looked down upon as less than their counterparts, and while Queen Mother had worked diligently to destroy that perception, there were still some who paid homage to that level of idiocy.  I had hoped after the last battle to save Mt. Drago, having witnessed firsthand how the non-winged dragons fought, that this senseless prejudice would have died along with so many of the combatants on that day.  Apparently, those feelings ran deeper that anyone thought because it was rearing its ugly head again this morning.  Surprisingly enough, it was the non-winged riders that were the guilty parties, fueled by their own pride.

In the end, Queen Mother, knowing she couldn’t force the participants to piggyback to the Castle, nor could she hold the meeting in Commons, chose an alternative cavern to use until the ramp had been repaired.

The area in question, was an unused cavern north of the main corridor leading away from Commons, and just a little over a mile from their present location.  Convenient to approach, with only one way in and out, it would serve well for their meetings during the next few months.  Queen Mother placed two sentries at the entrance for privacy and had several of the Drago stewards deliver food, drink and chairs.  It was a compromise acceptable to everyone and allowed her to navigate around a potential problem.

Coming back to Mt. Drago dredged up every feeling that the people here had months to process.  We’d been gone for a few hours and the emotions that run hand in hand with death were still very much a part of our daily lives.  I’m not saying they aren’t feeling the pangs of grief, nor am I saying it didn’t hurt, but the way most people process emotions of that nature tend to round off corners of the agony.  That takes time, and Queen Mother, Invectum, Demi, and I had not been given that time to perform those miracles.

That gave us about an hour to find coffee and perform whatever rituals people do while they’re waiting.  Demi and I went to the Ugly Duckling where she enjoyed a Charlie Temple, and I went through several cups of something that had a bit more caffeine.  Sixty minutes later, we strolled into the cavern and took two chairs in the front row.

The group knew to have their ideas ready and any suggestions for what would hopefully happen during the next month, but I figured Queen Mother would wave aside anything other than a role count for casualties during the final battle.  Beyond that, believe it or not, a second role count for the demonic deaths and subsequent events concerning them.  The ramp had been down for several months and could wait a bit longer.  We had not been given any idea about who had lived or died during the last few hours before being swept away to Oblivion.  The familiar faces seen during the barbeque answered some of the more pertinent questions, but it was the people we didn’t see that bothered me the most.

Once everyone was seated, Queen Mother called for her assistant, Isaac, and requested the very thing I’d predicted.  The faces around me dropped and began the inevitable dawn of realization.  They’d had time to jump the first hurdle in the grieving process and the absentees had not.  First things first, right?  In the total scheme of things, Queen Mother didn’t give a nit about the ramp or any other damage to her mountain until given the update most important to her, the people.

The news was shockingly bad as dozens of hounds, stewards, sabers, and dragons had lost their lives during the battle for Mt. Drago.  On a personal note, my friend, Delorayas, was killed shortly before we left for Oblivion and was cremated three days later.  That didn’t seem possible.  Certainly not him too.

While I sat contemplating the report, an odd yet somewhat detached feeling swept over me, and no matter how hard I tried, it simply wouldn’t go away.  It was as if my entire past, without warning, flooded my consciousness and began inserting memories where there had been none before.  I remembered Katherine, her