The Dorundum flashed and roiled like a living being in Ilien's palm. Ilien willed it to strike.
"It is done," said the Evil. "She is dead." The blinding shadow sank into the ground, its laughter echoing along the tunnel walls.
Panic gripped Ilien. He charged forward, then stopped with a cry.
"Windy!" he shouted. "Windy, no!"
Filled with rage, he clenched the Dorundum in his hand until he was sure it would crumble. He cared no longer if it killed him.
Windy!
From deep within him surged a mounting power that threatened to devour him. He reached out with his thoughts, screaming for Windy to hear him. Through the tunnel his silent cry soared, past the stone and earth that imprisoned his body in the night-filled depths of the Long Dark Road. Up it climbed, extending beyond mortal boundaries. Emptiness. Utter emptiness assailed his senses, yet he pressed on. Where are you? He had to find her. But the emptiness overwhelmed him.
He collapsed to his knees.
A yellow light filtered through the blankness of his mind and forced away the emptiness. Like a beacon, the power of the stone lit the way. Ilien's mind sailed on. His thoughts cried out again.
Windy!
His heart leapt! An answer! He heard an answering cry!
Ilien. Forgive me. I failed.
Ilien jumped up and fell back. He screamed in pain as he returned to his body with a jolt. The Dorundum went dark in his grasp.
"I'm coming!" he cried. He raced up the tunnel, sure of the way now, but sure of nothing else.
He ran like a boy possessed. Left then right, forward then right again. As if drawn by an invisible hand, he surged on ever faster. All the while, he held the Dorundum in his clenched fist, unconcerned that the Evil might spring up to block his way again. If it came, he would kill it, destroy it once and for all. If it didn't, he would kill whoever was hurting Windy.
Onward he raced, pushing his body beyond its limits. A well of new energy opened within him, springing from utter necessity. Windy would not die! He sprinted ahead, past a myriad of branching tunnels. Stairs loomed before him. He thrust the Dorundum into his pocket. He took the stairs three at a time, crashed through a wooden door, and burst into a large, circular chamber.
An old woman turned in surprise, her eyes wide, bony hands poised to draw a rune in the air. Ilien strode forward, his own hands moving frantically. He knew only one Nihilic rune, but his fingers traced a pattern he'd seen only once before from a distance. Tendrils of green fire erupted from his fingertips and raced across the space between him and the Witch Queen. Caught off guard, the old woman caught the full force of the attack. The flames engulfed her in an iridescent explosion of magic. Her human-like form evaporated, leaving a thick column of smoke standing in its place. The smoke roiled like a summer storm cloud. A dim light moved within it. Cackling laughter echoed around the chamber.
Ilien recalled Gallund's words. Smoke and shadows, nothing more. The Witch Queen could not hurt him.
"This is a treat, indeed!" cried the Witch Queen's disembodied voice. "I have you both now!"
A strangled cry cut the air.
Ilien turned. A scream of hate and anguish tore from his lips. A three-headed beast held Windy in its multi-armed grasp, pinning her lithe form violently to the floor. A sword protruded from its ribs. Red flames sputtered from the incandescent hilt, searing the monster's side. Two of its heads swivelled toward Ilien, one smiling, one sneering. Its third head bent its wicked gaze upon Windy.
Ilien's hands moved like lightning. Again he drew the rune of Fire, but this time he shouted, "Mitra mitari, mitara miru!"
Shooting stars of bright green flame blasted from his fingers. Ilien staggered backward, caught off guard by the ferocity of the attack. His Nomadin magic had returned! He had melded the two magics into one!
The speeding bolts of energy struck the Gog's nearest two heads in a blinding, green flash. The Gog's third head canted backward as it howled at the ceiling in agony. It released Windy, and clutched at its heads with all of its arms.
Windy rolled to her feet, snatched the shining sword from its side and hewed at the Gog's front leg. The Nihilic blade sliced through the clawed appendage and rang off the stone floor. The Gog fell back, swinging wildly with three of its arms. The blows went wide, and Windy struck again, hacking the middle head off with a wild, triumphant cry.
Ilien watched Windy in horror. The girl he knew was gone. What battled the twisted beast before him was not the Princess of Evernden. Her face was contorted in demented rage. Her hair stood on end like a frightened cat's. Her eyes burned with a foul, red light.
He was too late! The sword had consumed her completely!
The Gog retreated from the girl and her deadly weapon. The faces of its two remaining heads struck contrasting expressions. One held terror. The other leered with hatred.
Windy pressed forward, her sword arm dancing, her face a mask of sweat and madness. She struck with blinding speed. The Gog's leering head flew from its body with a thwack. It turned and fell, hobbled by its missing leg. Windy jumped upon it like a banshee. She finished it with several quick and savage blows.
A pillar of oily smoke curled up beside the slain Gog. The Witch Queen materialized next to Windy. She raised a bony hand and drew a rune above her head. Windy grew still. Her breathing abated. She turned toward Ilien, her eyes ablaze with the power of her sword.
Anselm's words raced through Ilien's mind. She would kill even you while under such power.
"She is invincible!" cried Amandalia. "She will serve me well. She will be my champion."
Windy waited obediently beside her master.
"Destroy him," commanded the Witch Queen.
Windy raised her sword and rushed at Ilien.
Ilien fumbled in his pocket. The grovelstone rolled into his hand. He drew it forth and held it high.
"I'm sorry, Windy."
With a strength beyond his own, he hurled the Dorundum to the floor.
The stone smote the ground at Ilien's feet. It struck with a boom that shivered the floor, and shattered into pieces with a blast of light. A ripple of yellow magic coursed along the floor like a wave of sun-drenched water. It crashed over Ilien, driving him to his knees. It engulfed the Witch Queen, surged over Windy, swelled up and flooded the open Crossing with liquid gold.
Amandalia released a hideous shriek. She burst into smoke, and snaked toward the ceiling. The magic of the grovelstone raced up the walls of the chamber, poured across the space above her, and fell upon her fleeing form. She fell in a tumult of coursing energy and writhed to break free. Breakers of shining magic crashed over her. Smoke and shadows collapsed together, fell in on themselves and shriveled with a wailing moan.
The magic continued on, coursed through the chamber and dashed like shattered glass on the walls all around. The raging sea of yellow power calmed. The waves subsided. The magic drained away, trickled down the walls, leached into the cold stone floor and vanished.
Ilien staggered to his feet. The Witch Queen was gone. The Crossing hung momentarily in the air, then vanished. Windy lay motionless against the wall, the Nihilic Sword still in her hand.
Ilien rushed to her side. He kicked the sword aside and shook her by the shoulders, calling her name. He brushed her hair from her face, felt her forehead. It was cold. Her skin was ashen.
"Windy!" he cried. "Wake up!"
She did not move. He lifted her head and cradled it in his hands. "Windy. Come on, now," he sobbed. "Wake up."
He embraced her, his heart torn asunder. She was dead. His one and only friend was dead. He collapsed, sobbing upon the floor.
He lay beside her for a long while. All was silent except for his own whimpering cries. All was lost. He could do nothing. With all the magic he wielded, he couldn't save Windy from dying.
What good is it to have such power? he raged. Curse the Nomadin! Curse the NiDemon! Curse them all!
He sobbed till he could cry no more, and crumpled t
o the ground in exhaustion.
The shattered remains of the Dorundum littered the floor. He crawled forward, and seized a broken shard.
Words echoed in his mind.
A grovelstone is a deadly weapon. Its only desire is to return to the Land of the Dead. That's what happened to you. But you returned. Somehow you returned, and now it holds no power over you.
He heard Farmer Parson talking to him by the large flat rock. You're where you're not supposed to be. I don't know how, but you're here.
Ilien pushed to his feet. He staggered to Windy. He stood over her, clutching the broken grovelstone.
"I will not let you die," he said. He stooped and kissed her.
He rose holding her sword.
"I'm coming for you."
He turned the blade to his chest.
"I cannot die. The grovelstone did not kill me. I am the Creator."
His voice sounded foreign to his ears. He pushed the tip of the sword forward until he felt its deadly point against his skin.
Summoning all his courage, he closed his eyes and fell upon the blade.
Chapter XVII
Return to the Living
Ilien awoke with a start as a warm breeze gently tickled his skin. He lay on a sun-warmed rock beside calm, clear water. The bright blue sky stretched over him. He sat up.
Across the water, a girl in a flowing white dress ran upon a grassy field speckled with tiny yellow flowers. A long-legged dog pranced beside her. The girl's dark hair danced in the sunlight as she raced toward Ilien.
"Can't get rid of you, I see," came a voice behind him. Ilien spun around.
Farmer Parson stood with his thumbs in his suspenders. He rocked on his feet and smiled.
"It's her," said Ilien
"Yes. And it's him, too."
Ilien looked back at the girl. She waved her hands in the air. The dog ran beside her, its long, pink tongue lolling out, its crooked back end nearly leading the way.
Ilien shielded his eyes. "Kink?" He glanced at the farmer doubtfully.
"I haven't had to use a frying pan on him yet."
Ilien jumped to his feet. He would have sprinted out to meet them, but he knew he couldn't leave the rock. Already he could feel the subtle power of the place, its unrelenting pull of forgetfulness.
"You're not staying, are you?" asked the farmer.
Windy reached the trout pond and circled around it. "Ilien!" she cried.
"You're him, aren't you?" the farmer persisted.
Ilien nodded.
The old man grunted in satisfaction. "You're taking her back with you."
Ilien faced the farmer. "Her only."
The old man smiled. "I don't want to go back. Really, I don't. Neither does Kink. He's a good dog. Even here, a farmer needs a good dog, you know."
Windy ran along the muddy bank. She stopped breathless before Ilien. Kink trotted to Farmer Parson, who scratched him behind the ear.
"I thought it was you," said Windy, "but it seemed that when I looked across the field I saw not you but a reflection of the sun off the water, a dazzling radiance that flashed in my eyes and urged me to come. Does that make any sense?"
"I've come for you," said Ilien.
Windy stepped upon the rock and embraced him. "There is something I know I should tell you," she whispered, "but I can't remember what is so important."
Kink leapt forward. "Good bye, Ilien. Good bye, princess."
"Good bye, Kink," said Ilien. "Thank you, Farmer Parson."
The old man nodded. "It's Tobias. Call me Tobias."
Ilien wrapped his arms around Windy. In an instant, they were gone.
Farmer Parson smiled, then patted Kink's head. "Let's go, boy. It's about time for lunch, wouldn't you say?"
Kink followed happily, his tongue dangling, his rump dancing.
"Can I call you Tobias, too?" he asked.
Ilien opened his eyes. He was back in the castle cellars, lying on the stone floor beside the fallen princess. He sat up with a start. His hands flew to his chest. His shirt was torn where the sword had cut it, but he was unhurt. The hilt of the Nihilic sword lay nearby. The sword blade was gone.
He lifted the pommel and held it at arms length. The blade had been shorn from the hilt. He felt his chest again in panic. He searched the ground. The blade was nowhere to be found.
Windy opened her eyes. "Ilien? Is that you?"
"Windy!" Ilien threw his arms around her. He laid his head upon her bosom. He wept and wept, and would not stop.
"Was I dreaming?" whispered Windy. "Were you there? Were you really there?"
She held him fiercely. "It was you," she sobbed. "You came for me."
A giant hand came to rest on Ilien's shoulder. Up he was pulled, and gently set upon his feet. He blinked away his tears, and looked up in astonishment.
"You saved us all," said Anselm, smiling down at him.
There was a clatter of feet on stone, and the Swan came running across the chamber. "You found them!" she cried. She pushed the Giant aside with her wing. "Get out of the way! Let me see them!"
She stood before Ilien like a mother who'd nearly lost her children. Her black eyes shimmered with tears. "We've been searching for you all morning."
"All morning?" said Ilien. He'd been lying unconscious that long?
"It's already late afternoon," said Anselm.
The Swan looked upon the ruined sword in Ilien's hand. She glided her wing along his chest, and saw the tear in his shirt. Wonder came into her eyes. "What happened? What have you done?"
"He killed the Witch Queen," said Anselm. "He closed the Crossing!"
"You crossed death's door and have returned," marveled the Swan. She bowed her head. "Then you have accepted your fate."
Ilien gazed around him. The Crossing was gone. The chamber was empty.
"The sprits are destroyed," said Anselm. "We thought all was lost. We were surrounded, then they vanished."
"They could not survive without their master," said the Swan.
Ilien helped Windy to her feet. He put his arm around her to keep her from falling. "Have you found my father?" he asked.
"Ilien!" said Windy. "I remember what I was supposed to tell you. Gallund is alive!"
"Alive? You saw him?"
"The Witch Queen said he escaped. He has the map. The Nephalim is hunting him!"
"No, princess," said the Swan, holding out a comforting wing. "The Nephalim perished with all the other spirit creatures."
"How can you be sure?" asked Windy.
"Because he was bound to the Witch Queen. She is destroyed, and so, too, are those she bound to her will."
Ilien felt as if a stone had been lifted from his chest. What he had scryed would not come true. The nightmare was over.
"Gallund is safe," he said.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Windy. "Bulcrist! He left to pursue the Nephalim." Her eyes grew wide as she realized what that meant. "Ilien! He's after the map!"
Ilien cast the handle of the Nihilic sword aside. It rang like a bell as it crashed to the stone floor. "I will handle the NiDemon," he said evenly.
"How will you catch him?" asked the Swan. "He's been gone for hours. You don't even know where he's headed."
"I do," said Ilien. "I saw Gallund in my dream. He had the map. He was in the Damp Oaks. That's where Bulcrist is going."
A thought came to Ilien, and a prickle of fear moved through him. He remembered something else from his dream, something the Nephalim had said. Then the map will be mine!
The shadow had been hunting the map for itself! That could mean only one thing.
"The Nephalim was not bound to Amandalia," said Ilien, turning to Windy.
He spun and raced across the chamber. "Come!" he cried to the Swan. "We must fly to the Damp Oaks as fast as we can!"
Gallund was still in danger. What he had scryed might still come true. It might already be too late!
Ilien and the Swan hurried through the tunnel, Ilien's magic lighting the wa
y. They reached the nearest exit, and Ilien sprinted up the stairs. The Swan squeezed through behind him.
"Thank God I'm mostly feathers!" said the Swan, blinking in the bright light of afternoon. "Now hop on my back!"
A stone smote the Swan's head and she collapsed in the grass.
"So you are alive," said the NiDemon, stepping from behind the piled rocks beside the exit. "Stupid boy!"
Bulcrist raised a hand and drew a rune. A jet of green flame fanned from his fingers, engulfing Ilien in a pillar of fire. The NiDemon grit his teeth, and intensified the fiery onslaught. The ground beneath Ilien ignited. The sand turned to liquid glass.
Bulcrist screamed in fury when he saw that Ilien was unharmed. He poured even more power into the assault. Smoke billowed from his black robes, and the air around him shimmered with heat. He stood like a smoldering coal, his face twisted in madness.
The flames subsided. Bulcrist lurched to his knees and collapsed in the scorched grass. His eyes flickered with hatred at the boy who stood unscathed before him.
Ilien stepped forward. "You cannot harm me," he said. "I know who I am."
The color drained from Bulcrist's face. He tried to speak, but his lips moved soundlessly. Green fumes rose from his body.
"I should destroy you," said Ilien. He raised his hand and drew a rune in the air. Bulcrist's eyes filled with panic.
"But I won't," said Ilien. The rune hovered like a shimmering phantom, then fell upon the NiDemon.
Bulcrist cowered, expecting to be struck with magic. The rune merely melted into his clothing.
"You will return to Ledge Hall, and live out the rest of your days alone," said Ilien. "If ever you set foot outside its gates, the rune I placed upon you will strike you dead. Now go."
Bulcrist scrambled to his feet, his face bent with rage.
"Do not linger," said Ilien. "You have until nightfall to make it back home. I suggest you take the Long Dark Road. It is the quickest route."
The NiDemon lurched forward, and raced down the stairs.
Ilien rushed to the Swan. She stirred and looked up at him. "I'm alright," she said. She tried to stand, but staggered back to the ground. "I cannot fly, Ilien. I'm sorry."
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