The worlds of the living and dead spun around Devaj as he flew across an endless expanse of blue water. He could feel Elkatran far behind him, but Devaj didn’t understand how he could be flying without his dragon. The dead followed him in a vast throng, their forlorn cries filling his soul in the place where the oversong once resided. Someone sat behind him on the dragon that bore him through the sky. Whoever it was, did not have the hard dragonscale armor and thick muscles Rajan did.
“Where am I?” Devaj whispered. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend.” The man who sat behind him answered. “You and I are going to save the spirits of the dead together.”
Devaj rubbed his head. The man’s voice sounded familiar, but something was blocking his mind from remembering who it was. “The dead are lost. We are lost. We can’t find Stonefountain. It’s gone,” Devaj said. Darkness and despair rose up like the ocean waves to drown him.
“I’m taking you to Stonefountain,” the man said. “We will be there soon.”
The ocean faded into the oppressive darkness where the damned spirits thronged him.
“Devaj, wake up. Look.” His friend’s voice pulled him from the dead’s anguished cries.
Devaj blinked and rubbed his eyes. Below him, the Stonefountain River delta spread out between land and sea, illuminated in gold by the setting sun. The dragon he flew on swooped down to fly above the river then landed on shore and took a long drink. Devaj’s friend helped him down from the dragon’s back and brought him a cup of the river’s cool water. They sat on the bank and shared a meal while the dragon rested.
“How long have we been flying toward Stonefountain?” Devaj asked. “I’ve been away from it for so long. I couldn’t go back there because—” Devaj jumped to his feet. “We can’t go to Stonefountain. The humans will never allow it. We have a peace treaty. I won’t break the treaty my brother worked so hard to forge.”
“You and I have been traveling together for a day and a half,” his friend said. “I promise we won’t break the treaty. The humans are all free and safe. I haven’t harmed any of them.”
“Are you sure?” Devaj’s heart followed the rushing water back to its source, and a ray of golden light settled into his heart.
“I am sure. You see, the river is here. You know where the river flows from. Please go back and tell the dead that soon you will all be home once more. They need only wait one more day.” His friend touched his mind, and Devaj spiraled back into the Realm of the Dead.
His friend dragged him away from death again when a tall mountain with a thundering waterfall at the head of the river came into view. A forest of trees and bushes lined the river. Wasn’t there supposed to be something different along the riverbanks? Devaj wondered.
A palace of gray stone rose from the plateau above the waterfall. “Stonefountain,” Devaj said, snapping more fully awake. A golden power, emanating from the chamber inside the palace, washed over him. “It’s Stonefountain, but . . . something’s missing. Something’s not right.”
The dragon who carried him landed in the Fountain courtyard where the water rushed in a naturally carved path through the mountain’s gray stone. He lifted Devaj to the ground.
Devaj knelt beside the water and ran his hand along the rough stone where the water passed. “Where’s the marble? The conduit has always been lined with marble.”
“Not always,” his friend said, sliding down from the dragon’s neck to stand beside him. “This is what Stonefountain looked like long before you were born. Devaj,” the man said, resting his hand on Devaj’s brow. “I free your mind. Remember.”
Devaj looked up at the man beside him and jumped to his feet. “Nagaron!”
Nagaron sighed and stepped back from Devaj. “Yes.”
“What have you done? Where is the Fountain?” Devaj demanded as all his memories came rushing back to him.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you.” Nagaron strode across the courtyard beneath the giant statue of Kanvar and Dharanidhar that watched over it. Devaj followed him into the passageway that led to the Stonefountain chamber. “I know I hurt you and your family,” Nagaron said, pausing at the Fountain’s doorway. “I wanted to make it up to you, and I knew the one thing your heart desired more than anything else was to be able to return to Stonefountain. I understood how much you wanted to come home. I wanted it to.” He motioned to Devaj to enter the chamber.
Devaj hesitated. So much about this place matched the Stonefountain he knew, and so much did not. No beautiful white city stood along the riverbanks, and only the sound of falling water came from the chamber within. “This isn’t Stonefountain,” Devaj said. “It has no song. It’s just a hollow representation of the real Stonefountain. You drew this with the Quill of Creation, didn’t you?”
“Technically, Aarush and I drew it together.” Nagaron grabbed Devaj’s arm and ushered him into the chamber where a glowing fountain of water burst out of the rock and splashed down to gather in a stream and rush out beneath the wall. There was no marble basin. The floor was not smooth and polished, and the walls were empty gray stone. Nagaron pushed Devaj forward into the center of the Fountain.
A burst of blinding golden power filled Devaj’s soul and expanded out across the Realm of the Dead and the spirits that surrounded him. From the realm of the living, Nagaron’s voice spoke out to him. “I knew from Nikeron’s memories that the Heart Stone could produce a conduit between these two realms, which is essentially what Stonefountain was. Since the Heart Stone has the power over life and death, I figured it could close a conduit as well as create one. I closed the path between the mortal world and the Realm of the Dead at Stonefountain. Then Aarush summoned the Heart Stone here and opened this one. We weren’t trying to destroy Stonefountain, just move it, but . . .”
“You forgot about the singing stones,” Devaj said, sharply. “You didn’t think about what would happen to all the people whose souls reside in the crystals at Stonefountain.” All the disorientation and confusion Devaj and the spirits who followed him had been feeling fell into place in Devaj’s mind. They were torn between their spiritual connection to the Fountain’s power at a new unknown location and their physical connection to the spirit crystals that lined the Fountain chamber. “Stonefountain is more than just a window or conduit between the two worlds,” Devaj said. “It is . . .” Mortal language did not have the words necessary to explain the interplay between the living and the dead that Stonefountain provided. “It is life,” Devaj stuttered. “It is creation. Who do you think you are, Nagaron, to control all that the Fountain is? Did you learn nothing from the consequences of trying to steal the Fountain’s power to put into mortal objects?”
“I do not wish to control the Fountain’s power,” Nagaron said. “What I have done is in response to your own will and desperate longing. You wanted to return to the Fountain, but you would not fight the humans for it. I did not fight the humans, and I have returned the Fountain to you instead.”
“But you have resigned the dead to an existence as lost souls. The Fountain’s power is here, so they can’t return to the crystals, and their crystals are at the original Stonefountain, so the spirits can’t remain here.” Devaj let the bitter words spill from his mouth. He could not deny Nagaron’s claim that Devaj had longed to return to the Fountain as deeply as Nagaron had longed to reconnect with his dragon, but he would never let his own longing hurt the spirits who trusted him to protect them.
“But you brought back lost souls to Stonefountain before, when you summoned the singing stones to the Fountain,” Nagaron said. “Aarush tried to do that here, but he is not attuned to the singing stones at Stonefountain, and he could not connect with their spirits. They fled from him and scattered when he tried to bring them here.”
“Khalid summoned the singing stones,” Devaj corrected. “I had no will of my own at the time.”
“But you do have your own will now,” Nagaron said, circling him along the outer edge of the Fountain. “You have the will, the skill, and the knowledge of how to summon those stones. The Fountain can provide you with all the power you need. Just connect with the spirits, lead them here, summon their stones, and Aarush and I will manipulate them into this Fountain’s walls.”
“Pulling that much power from the Fountain will surely kill me,” Devaj said. “I am mortal. Look what happened to you and Aarush when you tried to use too much of the Fountain’s power to create the Four Powers. The Fountain killed you and locked you away from each other. I will not make the same mistake.”
Nagaron stepped into the Fountain and pressed the Heart Stone against Devaj’s chest, manipulating it into his armor. Aarush summoned the Quill and ink and set them at Devaj’s feet as well as the cloth that turned the ground around the Fountain gold when he laid it down. Nagaron summoned the Crown of Power and held it out to Devaj. “Here is all the power Aarush and I tried to take from the Fountain. We offer it back and ask you to beg the Fountain’s forgiveness on our behalf. If anyone must die to bring the crystals from Stonefountain here, let it be Aarush and me.”
Nagaron went to Aarush, and Aarush wrapped a foreclaw around him, drawing him close against his chest.
Devaj placed the Crown on the ground at his feet beside the Quill and the Fabric. A rush of power from the Heart Stone enveloped him. So much power. With the four items Nagaron had willingly handed to Devaj in the center of the most powerful fountain in the world, Devaj could do anything. He could conquer. He could destroy. He could kill. He could rule the world and live forever. The one and only supreme power.
You can also create, Nagaron whispered into his mind. You can build. You can protect. You can heal. You can bring back loved ones who have died. That is all I ever wanted the Powers for. The vivid image of watching his older brother bleed to death played across Nagaron’s mind. The feeling of loss in the face of death, and the hope that he could bring his brother back to life had spurred Nagaron to forsake his clan and family and go in search of the Powers. In the stillness and longing of that moment, Devaj came to a full realization of who and what Nagaron really was.
You have the power now, Nagaron told Devaj. It did not bring me the joy I thought it would. Use it to whatever ends you will. But first, you must reunite the spirits with their crystals. You must repair the Fountain.
Devaj took a deep breath, trying to master himself before attempting to wield the power offered to him. He retreated to a quiet spot in his heart and pictured Evelyn in her rustic human dress in the garden of her small cottage with pink trim. The silence of the land. The peace of living safely apart with only those he loved. So different from the limitless power that roared around him. He summoned his lute and began to play the simple melody of the garden, the cottage, and his love, spinning out his heart’s desire to the Fountain.
The patter of the falling water against the varnished wood and stone floor created a rhythm, which intertwined with Devaj’s melody and caught it up in the totality of the oversong. But the oversong sounded empty and meaningless when Devaj sang it alone.
Nikeron, he called out with his mind while his fingers plucked the lute.
Nikeron stepped out from the mass of spirits that now stood with Devaj in the Fountain’s golden light, trying to resist the tug of their crystals that would pull them back into darkness.
Take my hand, Devaj said. He continued the oversong with his voice while he held out his hand to Nikeron. Devaj could not go on singing alone when the whole of the realm of the dead ought to be singing with him.
Nikeron clasped Devaj’s hand, and Devaj summoned his crystal from the Fountain chamber in Varna. Nikeron’s spirit disappeared into the crystal. A bright gold fire sprang up inside it, and Nikeron’s voice joined Devaj’s in song. Aarush took the crystal from Devaj’s hand and manipulated it into the wall of the New Stonefountain chamber.
“If we do these one at a time, we might die of old age before we have moved the millions of crystals from Varna,” Nagaron murmured.
Devaj nodded. “But I can think of no other way to do it besides having the spirits pass through me. Now I have the feel of it, I think we can go more quickly. I wish Elkatran was here to play the oversong while I sing it. We are stronger when we make music together.”
Devaj? Elkatran’s mind slid into Devaj’s. He could feel his dragon nearing the coast of the Untamed lands with Rajan on his back. We’ve been trying to reach you, but Nagaron has blocked your mind from us. Are you all right? Are you safe?
Devaj glanced over at Nagaron, who shrugged.
I’m alive, Devaj told Elkatran. For the moment, but I must save the spirits of the dead. I need your help. Will you sing the oversong with me?
Elkatran landed on the beach and summoned his swarabat into his hands. You want the oversong?
Yes, Devaj said, slinging his lute onto his back and vocalizing the eternal melody. Elkatran joined him on the swarabat. Sing with me, Devaj said to the spirits that thronged him. Join with me. Come inside me. I am your way back to Stonefountain.
A single wavering voice from the bleak throng joined Devaj’s, then another followed, and another. The complex melodies and harmonies of the oversong sprang to life around Devaj. He steeled himself as the spirits pressed into his body. As soon as each became one with him, he summoned their stones. The crystals filled his hands and clattered to the ground at his feet. With Nagaron and Aarush’s aid, he levitated them out to the walls and manipulated them in place. The Fountain’s brightness and power exploded through him, blinding him to all but the song and the constant flow of spirits through him as he summoned their stones. Devaj lost himself in the rush of power, the movement of the spirits, and the building crescendo of the oversong. The intensity of the Fountain’s light increased along with the oversong’s volume until all sense of the mortal world and the Realm of the Dead fell away from Devaj. He stood, hands outstretched, in a blinding white light.
My son. A voice that was not a voice shivered through him.
“Where am I? Are you the Fountain?” Devaj asked. “You are not Amar, my father. Who are you?”
I am the father of all my creations. Devaj felt the voice as a knowing deep in his soul, rather than hearing it with his ears or mind. You may call me the Fountain if you wish, though it is only a small portion of my power.
“Am I dead?” Devaj asked.
No, you stand between the boundaries of my creations.
“I need to go back,” Devaj said. “I have to finish summoning the singing stones to the New Stonefountain.”
The Fountain laughed, and a dozen variations of the oversong formed and echoed away. You have accomplished that already, but I sense there is something you need to tell me.
“Nagaron wanted me to tell you he is sorry,”Devaj said. “I believe he wants you to forgive him for using your power to create the Quill, the Heart Stone, the Fabric, and the Crown.”
Ah yes, dear sweet Nagaron, the Fountain said gently. As a natural consequence of his actions, he has suffered for a very long time, in the sense that many of my creations perceive time. That is why I sent you from my side into this mortal body, to banish Khalid from the Realm of the Dead, to save Nagaron, and to do many other things you have yet to realize.
“You sent me from your side? I don’t understand.”
You understand enough for now. You must return, while you still can. The light faded from around Devaj, and he found himself standing in the center of New Stonefountain where an endless rainbow of crystals lit the walls, and the oversong rolled on in joyous tones.
Rebecca Shelley 