This will not be the final Part, as I thought it would be. Sara's story is still unfolding for all of us, and, right now at least, I can't say when it'll end. I had envisioned the series stopping at eight. But while I was writing this I knew that wasn't possible. There's still a bit more we must know about our new hero/mom. There's still more story to be told....
Gentle cool hands fell on her shoulders.
"I will show you, dear Sara," whispered Gilead in her ear.
"I will show you the power in yourself."
Days passed like years as Sara dug into parts of her she never knew existed. Tapping a raw power in herself, and trembling with the quake it made through her veins.
And all the while she thought of Andrew. Had she spent too much time all ready with the wizard? Three days. Sara wondered if the dragon had killed her son yet. The thought provoked hot anger that bubbled up within her very soul, rippling her body into gooseflesh.
"One more thing must be shown, dear Sara," Gilead spoke from the shadows of the private chamber he had given her for this "showing".
She started in her bed and sat up, heart hammering.
"Tis alright, Sara. Tomorrow we shall well out the power that shall destroy the dragon."
Sara sat there, peering in the darkness and finding nothing but, darkness. She sighed. She supposed Gilead really meant her no harm, otherwise he could have beheaded her while she slept on that first weary night. The night he had shown her how to make her hands blaze with blue fire. All the powers Gilead had shown to her were new to her, and she had no true idea where they came from. Inside, she supposed, but that still seemed unimaginable. Even now, after the blue flaming hands, which Gilead promised was hotter than any fire made by man or nature. After the discovering she had the strength of ten men, and finding the wisdom of an ancient hole dup inside her head. All of these powers fascinated her, of course they did. But they also frightened her. They seemed so unnatural.
"Good night, my dear," Gilead spoke softly from the shadows.
Sara felt a light breeze pass her face and then she knew Gilead was gone. Somehow she just felt it, as she felt the various powers coursing through her mortal body. Like pounding blood.
She lay back down and pulled the quilt up to her chin. She shuddered.
As sleep found her then cradled her, as she drifted off into the slumber, she thought of her poor son, and how he was doing.
"Hold your hand out to me," Gilead said.
They stood in a great hall adorned by golden walls and a blue domed ceiling. She had never been in this room before, but she loved it. It was beautiful. Gilead, she had a feeling, made the room for just that purpose too. To be beautiful.
Sara held out her hand, palm down.
Gilead smiled, took her hand with his own, and turned it so the palm faced the round ceiling. His multicolored eyes never left hers as he spoke.
"Here is your advantage,"
Sara blinked, looked at her hand and then narrowed her eyes on Gilead.
"My hand?" she asked.
Gilead's smile lengthened slightly.
"No," he said. "Your palm."
"It is your palm where your advantages lie. The touch. A mother's touch."
Head reeling she opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about, but he silenced her with a swish of his free hand.
"Your palm," Gilead said, "is the outlet."
Even more confused, Sara shook her head. Outlet?
"Tis where you advantage power will expel from, dear heart."
Sara nodded, not really understanding, but close enough.
Gilead nodded back.
"Now," he said and let go of her hand.
He placed his other hand on her left breast. He did not cup it or caress it, merely place it there.
"Here is where your power is built. Here is where it is stored."
Gilead stepped away. He snapped his fingers and a goat appeared at the center of the room, six feet or so from Sara.
He pointed at the goat, which stood glancing around as if lost. It was defiantly that.
"See the billy?" He asked.
"Turn him into ash," Gilead said.
Shaking her head, Sara backed a way a couple steps.
"Point at him, and say: Ashes, and it will be done."
Sara continued to shake her head. TI wasn't killing a goat that made her do so, it was the fact that if she tried it just might happen.
"Do not fear. This is for your son," he said.
This ignited both sorrow and anger in her. She thrust a finger at the old billy goat ans said.
There came a flash of blue light, and the goat was nothing more now than a heap of gray ash.
Amazed, Sara turned to Gilead. He smiled and nodded.
"That, my dear, is your advantage," he said.
The next day she was given a horse. And not just a horse, but a mare. A very familiar mare. White Girl came trotting through the village and Sara nearly dropped to her knees to weep. She thought she'd never see that old horse again. But here she was.
A bony finger tapped her on the shoulder. She turned.
Gilead stood, his face soft and kind.
"Ride well, dear Sara. Ride well and slay the beast. You are the only hope. Not even I can stop that monster. I am too old for battles."
A tear slipped down Sara's face and she embraced the old wizard. She felt his body stiffen at first, and then his arms were around her and holding her firmly.
"You, dear Sara," he whispered in her ear, "are the only hope for this world. Andrew awaits."
He let her go, smiled, and then hurried back into his massive mystical cabin.
Ruog led White Girl to her, bowed.
Sara smiled and mounted her lovely mare. She checked to make sure her father's sword was strapped tightly about her waist, gave Ruog a smiling nod, and then trotted away from the village.
Soon, Sara was at the base of the mountain. Ice Mountain.
(To be Continued)