Missing Minstrel Part II

I have found the door. This time I was awake when they entered. It must be sealed magically, for the seams faded when the door closed. I know little of my captors, for they are disguised with heavy robes and gloves. The one that has just left me wore a mask, one much like the comedy masks that my old troupe once wore. He appeared to be human in shape. But any shape could be true to them and unseen by me with the magics that they seem to posses. He took with him the pages that I had written. I am not surprised by that in the least. I still have a sheet remaining, and they have given me more of the Morun. So again I write to you, my love.

I have recently begun to remember other times when our contact was severed. The most compelling was the time when it was first gone. That time I foolishly chased after Talon, hoping to save him from himself. He pursued some villain through a portal. Where it lead we did not know. When that portal closed, I felt my heart stop. Our link was severed and so, I thought, was my heart. I collapsed. I started to weep. For my first thought was that it meant that you had died.

I had believed the gods when they blessed us, telling us that nothing could sunder the bond short of death. It was several moments before I realized that I was trusting the word of the gods. I had foolishly forgotten to take into consideration arrogance. Perhaps, I said to myself, they actually believed that the bond could not be severed short of death. But I have known them to err in regard to their own power. So I clung to the belief that you lived, and that the bond was blocked. The closing of the gate surely could have done that. Then I began to worry for you. You would wonder if I yet lived. But you would hold faith in me, as I do in you. And you would look for me. You would come to me, since I could not return to you. For that place was nearly as bad as this. Magic was all but dead there, as was the Earth and her Gods. I could feel that death. And the air was foul. Talon had outdone himself this time. He, in his dogged way, insisted that we should find his prey. At least to give us a task. I agreed, hoping that his prey would also know the method of our escape.

But you know this story, don’t you my love. There was one thing that I did not tell you. It has only just occurred to me now. In the evenings there, I would look into the sky. In that sky I would see stars that were unfamiliar to me. It brought me further unease, knowing that we could not even gaze upon the same stars. Such a simple thing that I took for granted was denied me. To know that if great distance separated us, I could look to the moon and know that you would see the same, that we could share that. In that place we could not. In this place, I cannot even see the sky.

The last time I slept I began to dream again. Oddly, not of you, our children, our friends or our world. But of another. A world not dissimilar to ours. An alternate world, I suspect. And the dream was vivid. Not just in its color, for I have always dreamt brightly, but in its form. All the details were there. It was as if I was transplanted into another incarnation of myself, in the world to which that incarnation was native. And it was as though I could only reach that world while I slept. Arghh! Now they torture me with a lack of parchment!

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