The Warlord's legacy

Epilogue

MELLORIN STOOD CALF-DEEP in snow, one hand resting on Sunder's hilt, and struggled to peer through the whirling blizzard at the path before her.

She had indeed learned much about Corvis Rebaine, and as she'd been warned, there was much of it she wished she hadn't. Still she'd sought more-and more she had discovered. From Tyannon and Jassion, from Irrial and even from Davro; from scholars and sages, historians and even oracles. She devoured it all, until there was no more to be learned.

And she'd learned what she must do with that knowledge. She wondered if, in the many months that had come and gone, her mother had begun to forgive her-or if she ever would.

But it didn't matter. Mellorin knew her father, now. She knew why he'd left, and if she couldn't yet forgive him for that, she could at least understand. She knew what he'd hoped to accomplish and the world he'd hoped to build… And she knew where he'd gone wrong.

She had no children waiting for her. She could avoid his mistakes. She could do it right. But she, like her father before her, needed the power to make it work.

Her guide, scion of a local Terrirpa tribe, reemerged from the wall of snow and beckoned with a fur-clad hand. "We should hurry, good mistress, lest the blizzard grow any worse."

An absent nod was her only response as she gazed upward, as though through sheer force of will she could see into the uppermost reaches of Mount Molleya, or the hidden cave at their peak where her prize awaited, entombed within the ice.

I'll build the world you wanted for us, Father. I'll make you proud.

Plans for the future and memories of the past twining around each other behind her eyes, Mellorin waved her guide forward and began to climb.