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The Endless Moment Shatters
I saw Gilthanas's expression shift as he turned toward me again, completing the spin during which one or
both of us had delivered the final and fatal cut to the other. The tense look that had appeared on his face
as he prepared to fight me softened, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. For some reason, my awareness
focused on the scar that now marred his features, which otherwise remained unchanged from the first day
I met him. It had been a decade since we had first met and during that time the first wrinkles had
appeared on my forehead and the beard of manhood had sprouted on my chin. However, if it hadn't
been for that scar upon Gilthanas's face, I might well have thought that we had met each other for the first
time only moments ago.
Not only did elves live a very long time, but they did not change in appearance as they aged.
How long would a life such as mine seem to one such as he? Would it be like a moment to him? Does it
seem as though we age and die, as he stays young?
He moved away from me, but he didn't move. Magic must be at work again.
In any case, it would be over in a moment.
"Why?" I heard Gilthanas say. He moved closer to me. For some reason, the sun no longer glinted off
his sword.
Why? Would there be time to explain? There are those who say that the moment of a man's death lasts
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forever, but that would only be from the perspective of the dying man. I could not possibly tell Gilthanas
what he wanted to know. For in another heartbeat, he would be gone. A killing blow had been struck,
and I felt certain that it was mine.
The Footprint of Chaos, 28sc
I lost Gilthanas's trail completely after the Peak of Clouds. The dwarves living at its base knew only that
warriors had attacked him while he had been living with a hermit who dwelt on the peak they knew this
because they had tended to his wounds. When I asked about a silver dragon, they reported that such a
creature had indeed resided here for a few years, but it was before Gilthanas showed up. The dwarves
couldn't agree on when the dragon had departed, although they knew that it had either gone north, east,
or northeast. They had told the elf the same thing, and he had headed in one of those directions as well.
The encounter with the dwarves made me realize how badly I wanted to be back on Elian Isle. On Elian,
people are honest and straightforward. They tell you what they think when you ask, they offer to help
whether you need it or not, and they are all honorable and honest in all things. In the rest of the world,
everyone always looked for an angle that they could exploit to get something from you whether they had
earned it or not. I left the dwarves, wondering if their confusion about what direction Silvara and
Gilthanas had gone in was genuine or because I didn't pay them enough.
The only honest and straightforward people I'd encountered were the kender, who somewhat resembled
the elves but exhibited a completely different personality. Kender always told me exactly what they
thought and, in contrast with the rest of the peoples of Ansalon, were very refreshing. Predictably, all
others despised them for their unassuming ways.
The encounter with the dwarves made me realize how much I had grown to miss my people. As near as
I could tell, I was the last surviving Master of Rank who had been charged with the slaying of Gilthanas.
It was up to me and me alone to finish the mission. Even if I could fabricate some excuse to return home,
I would be returning in failure. That was not an option, for it would stain the honor of my children.
For the next several weeks, as I moved along the borders of a land claimed by a black dragon known to
men as Pitch, my children were foremost in my thoughts. So many years had passed since I left. They
would not remember or recognize me, for although the years had flown by for me as though they were
nothing, they added up to a lifetime for them ... a lifetime which I had not been part of.
They would not recognize me, nor I them, if we were to meet. My woman had undoubtedly told them of
my glorious mission, but I was just a name to them. They would honor this name, but they might never get
a chance to know their father. Even if they did, I could never reclaim the joy that I know my father
derived from watching me grow from a baby into an adult.
Masters of Rank knew that they might need to pay the price of not seeing their sons grow up. During my
lonely trek, this suddenly seemed like an unbearable price. For the first time since I left Elian, I again
wondered if I had made the right choice, although the questions no longer revolved around Gilthanas and
his honorable heart. No, now the doubts revolved around me. Had the honor of this mission cost me
more years than the honor was worth?
I pursued these thoughts no further, for suddenly the magical ring I had received from Stalker seemed to
vibrate on my finger. I looked at the stone and found that its color had shifted! She had found him! Now,
I would see if the ring truly worked, as she believed that it would
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I grabbed the stone between two fingers and twisted it. I felt arcane energies surging through me, and the
world around me dissolved into a swirling sea of colors. I closed my eyes as I started to feel dizzy.
Within a moment, the air around me went from humid and heavy with the sour smell of rotting
vegetation for I was in the middle of a swamp to cool and heavy with the acrid smell of something
burning. I opened my eyes and found that the world around me had coalesced again but that it was
completely different.
It was a barren and brown place, a stark contrast to the lush greenery of the swamp I had come from.
Overhead, flourishing trees had obscured the dome of the sky just moments before. Now they didn't. But
where was Gilthanas? And where was the fire that caused the smell of burning vegetation?
I scanned my surroundings. I stood on a grassy ridge. To my left was a verdant and pleasant landscape
that retreated toward the horizon in a series of hills. To my right was a canyon incongruously shaped like
a giant foot. Its sides and the ground around it appeared as though they had been subjected to great
heat as though the canyon had been scoured into the surface of the world itself by huge gouts of fire.
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