Song Of Mornius

by Diane E Steinbach

  Over swirls of debris and gray sand, she tumbled with her mouth clamped shut, shocked by the water’s bitter cold. Battling the vicious drag of the undertow, she strained to swim toward the brownish foam tossing on the surface. She thrashed free from her shearling vest and kicked hard, her efforts hampered by the weight of her deer-hide leggings. A wave helped her, lifted her. She screamed when she was flung against the rock.

  “Father!” Scraping along the sharp stone, Avalar squinted at the remains of her boat. Beyond its scattered wreckage rose Thalus’s frosty shore, already seeking her life.

  “Hold on!” cried a voice. She gasped when small hard fingers snagged her wrist. Glancing up, she glimpsed white-feathered wings flailing behind her back and a slim, elven body descending.

  “No!” Avalar lashed out with her fists, battling for the hope her people needed, the call to her heart she had yearned to answer since her childhood. She knew the creature tugging at her limb. She recognized his voice, his stern eyes above his tight-lipped mouth. He meant to take her home.

  “You shall not!” she raged. “You will not stop me! You—”

  A calming heat filled her chest. Dazed, she gaped at the sky, feeling her limbs go numb. Hands grasped her tunic, gripping her at the nape of her neck and again at her waist. She heard the static crackling through his wings, his magic strengthening them to lift her up, soaking wet, and carry her ashore. Numbly she collapsed on the rocky beach.

  “You are young, Avalar,” her rescuer said, “and you have much to learn. Indeed, why in all that is magic would you battle a tempest and let it destroy your beautiful racer? Did you forget what you are?”

  She looked up. Before her stood Ponu, the mightiest of the elven wizards sworn to protect her people. He was her father’s friend; she knew he would want to take her home. She sat and locked her elbows around her knees, narrowing her eyes at the winged elf.

  “You did,” Ponu continued. “Avalar, you are a giant. All you had to do was shout a command—Avaunt storm!—and the waves would have stilled for you.”

  “Ponu,” she said. Avalar examined him. He was a thin, crooked-mouthed creature whose head, whenever she stood near him, barely reached her hips.

  His attire she knew well: the cream-colored vest that had fascinated her as a child with its many pockets of secret treasure, and the mysterious pouches dangling from his wide shan-hide belt.

  His bare arms were dripping, his tunic and vest cinched above his hips. The quilted leather that made up the back of his vest hung loose, out of the way of his muscular wings. He kept his doeskin leggings fastened in the old style, she noted, laced tight down the sides and tucked into his fur-lined boots.

  Ponu bowed with a flourish and gestured to the cliffs towering behind them. “Behold!” he said, his smooth skin and youthful timbre of his voice belying his great age. Leaning forward, Avalar strained to hear him over the rhythmic thunder of the surf, the warbling shrieks of the wind. “These are the Drengards, the ancient protectors of Thalus!”

  Her nerves tingled along her neck as a gentle touch of his magic enhanced her hearing.

  “Avalar,” said Ponu, “it was from this cove that your people escaped. Why would you want to return here? Do you not recall what your father went through?”

  “Of course I do.” Hunched against the cold, she scanned the curved shoreline, hunting in vain for a way to evade him. He is Ponu, she reminded herself, the eyes and ears of Sephrym, our great protector. Does he have his staff? If it is here . . . She glowered, envisioning the power of the crystal—the elf transferring her home.

  “The memories of my people are woven forever through my magic,” she said. “If I relax my sight, I glimpse the slaves waiting here, just as my father did when he was forced to abandon them. They are his ghosts, not mine, and they shall not hinder me.”

  “They’re not ghosts. You do realize that, I hope.”

  Avalar clenched her jaw. “It matters not! I experience what they went through as though I have become them!”

  “This is not what you expected, is it?” Ponu said. He hurried on as she tightened her lips. “Avalar, I thought we had discussed this plan of yours. I tried to warn you. I explained how foolish this was.”

  She straightened under the freezing rain as much as she could. “But later you approved,” she said. “You were supporting me. You assisted me with my boat. You even collected scraps for my sail!”

  “Yes.” Droplets flew as he shook out his wings. “I contributed your bits and pieces—the things you needed for your race boat. It was a patchwork canvas, marking you as a novice. I never suspected you’d attempt to bring it here!”

  “Your staff of magic shows you everything, does it not? I thought you had checked it, Ponu. I thought you knew!” She curled her fingers, her digits digging into the pebbly sand. “I told you at Freedom Hall the day I first heard its voice,” she said, “long ago, when I was yet a child, but you laughed at me! You refused to even consider—”

  “What, that Redeemer sang to you? You still believe Govorian’s Bloodsword compels you here?”

  “I do!” Avalar gritted her teeth. A pocket of warm air touched her face when he stepped closer. “The world created the blade, and now in one night I have gained Thalus, flown here on the wings of this storm. How can this be when I am but a novice? I will tell you. The Circle’s magic wants me here.”

  “Avalar—”

  “No!” she interjected. “You could be wrong! You have erred before!”

  “And I will again, I assure you,” Ponu agreed, wiping the sleet from his eyes. “This is what I know. The humans who enslaved your people are dead, yet the power they worshipped endures. Erebos the Destroyer has new followers now, whole armies of magic-warped humans. How would you fight them, Giant? Even if you tamed an Azkhar well enough to ride it, yours is the old magic, Talenkai magic. Erebos’s power comes from the stars. One touch of it would kill you.”

  Avalar stiffened when he caught her wrist, and the fire of his thoughts probed her mind. Gasping, she snatched back her hand.

  “You seek the dance,” he said. “The Talhaidor. You intend to reach the mountain city of Tierdon and learn the Swordslore from the Eris Masters there. What, were Grevelin’s lessons not enough for you?”

  She returned his glare. “My father teaches how to butcher the Sundor Khan. They are naught but simple beasts; they deserve to thrive as much as we do.”

  “They are not so ‘simple,’ as you call it,” Ponu said, “when they destroy entire villages. Or when they devour the elves who strive to protect your people! How can you claim that they deserve—”

  “So we murder them,” Avalar broke in, “to defend those elves. Very well, am I so wrong to desire a different road? On Thalus, I shall learn to fight with skill, sword to sword.”

  Ponu, scowling, contemplated the sea. “I hope you realize how this will break your father once he discovers you are gone. You are all he has left of Alaysha, your mother. Avalar, he—”

  “Yes, my mother,” she said, “who died giving birth to me. She never recovered from the slavers’ abuse. Ponu, what has this to do with my purpose on Thalus, and why should it concern you? Redeemer sang to me. I am here at its bidding.”

  “How can you ask that?” Ponu rubbed at his forehead. “Your father is friend-bonded to me, so of course it concerns me. I will be forced to endure his pain, and this is a critical time for this world. I cannot be distracted by your father’s heart.” He paused. “I could transfer you home with my staff, or fly you there over the sea.”

  Avalar hissed. “Do that and I shall free myself and fall. And afterward you can tell my father how you slew me.”

  Ponu stood. Seated as she was, his head came to her chest. She could feel the heat from his body, the soothing pocket of comfortable air he created around them both.

  “The Talhaidor of Tierdon is a beautiful dance, but it is not the way of giants, and it cannot stop Erebos.” As Ponu thought aloud, Avalar saw bursts of lightning refle
ct in his eyes from across the sea. “Only power can defeat a warder. The Destroyer understands this very well and so he hides, gaining strength in his mountain. The others trapped here with him . . .” The elf-mage sighed. “He’s already slain Tythos. Before Holram could even hope to withstand Erebos, he would need to get stronger.”

  She surveyed him intently while he rubbed his chin. In the bunch and release of the muscles across his forehead, she could see his quick mind work. “Tierdon is by my home, Giant,” he said. “Look.”

  Startled by this change, Avalar moved out of his way when Ponu knelt, giving him room to poke his finger into the rocky sand. Carefully, his slender arm dripping, he drew a curved line and a circle.

  “If you head west,” Ponu instructed, “you’ll find the Shamath River. It spills into the sea. Beside the falls, there is a stairway carved into the cliff. Climb it. When you reach the top, follow the river. It will take you through the mountains to this point.” Ponu tapped the circle he had dug, its thin line filling with water. “A lake called Crinath. This is where you veer east along the shore. There is a trail to Tierdon that begins”—he buried his thumb in a clump of tiny pebbles—“here.”

  His feathers rustled when he stood. “If you must make this journey, you shall go the way I tell you. This route is the safest path I know over the Snarltooths.”

  He hesitated, watching her face as if to gauge her reaction. “Now answer me this,” he said severely. “It is the truth your leader, Trentor, asks all warriors to acknowledge before they leave for the North: What three things on this world will slay you?”

  Avalar brushed the moisture from her lip as the rain flattened his map. “A Sherkon Raider,” she said, “for he values his blood sport above all else.”

  “Correct.” Ponu nodded. “What next?”

  “A human, for he craves power.”

  “Indeed,” said Ponu. “While there are no Raiders here on Thalus, there are many humans. Beware of them, Avalar. They will kill whatever they fear.”

  She met his troubled regard. “The third thing is what I am,” she said, “a giant—for she will surrender her life to protect the weak.”

  “Your people are threatened by extinction,” said Ponu. “You can no longer afford to protect the vulnerable. You shall keep to this path of doing what the weapon wants, and nothing more.” Stretching back his shoulders, he glanced at the sea. “This feels wrong. There are other ways to prove your worth, Giant. The Sundor Khan are raiding again near Kadoth. You’re old enough now, and trained. I will convince your father to allow you to fight.”

  “No.” Avalar wrung the seawater from her thick blond braid. “I am not here to prove my worth. Govorian’s blade quickened the blood of my people to make them lust for battle. It gave them the courage to rebel. Yet still we are not free. Because of this, the sword is uneasy. It will not rest until I do as it bids.”

  Lowering her head, she scrutinized her drenched garments, the ripples trickling from her elbows to her wrists. “I have come to find freedom for giants. To remind my people of what they are. Until I do, they will remain as slaves controlled by fear.”

  Ponu, his brow furrowed, licked his lips. “Talenkai will fail without its magic, and without your people to anchor it. What if you should die, Avalar? There are not enough giants as it is.”

  Avalar grinned at his concern. “Now it is you who have forgotten what I am,” she teased. “As a giant, I have the world defending me. You asked why I failed to stop the storm. Mayhap I craved the challenge, Ponu.”

  He snorted and read the sky, the purple diagonal slash along the horizon. “That would be like you,” he admitted, “but no amount of courage is enough. Nor is the weather’s protection or your skill with a blade. In case you have not noticed, your supplies are missing, Avalar. Here.”

  Ponu faced the thundering surf and opened his wings. Briskly he clapped twice, and Avalar gasped when her stores appeared in front of her, tangled in glistening seaweed. The packs were heavy with brine, bloated with pockets of air. Yet still she could spot her sword in its scabbard underneath a bundle, with her rolled shelter lying close by.

  “Your provisions were submerged under the wreckage,” the winged elf told her. With his toe, he prodded the soggy tangle. “If the foodstuffs are spoiled, I shall fetch you more. I will not have you starve, Giant.”

  Avalar shifted to her knees, her every muscle bruised and sore. The rain hammered her wet tunic as she bent over the pile. Bracing the first sack between her thighs, she fumbled with its knots.

  “I use reef-bulbs,” she said. “They do not hold as much, but what they do stays dry. It was a trick my uncle Kurg taught me.” She withdrew a hollow blue sphere from the sack and gave it a shake. “The bulbs are resistant to water,” she explained, and with her thumbs she pried it open. “Do you see?”

  Ponu’s white elven brows lifted toward his hairline. As she replaced the bulb among the others, the frown returned to his ageless face. “Your uncle’s knowledge serves you well. Though I doubt Kurgenrock would approve of your presence here.”

  Avalar stumbled to her feet. “I thank you for my life.”

  He grunted. “I didn’t save it so you could stand out here and freeze,” he said. “Come now, Giant. There is a small cave half a league down this beach. If you follow me this way”—he jerked his head—“I will be pleased to show you.”

  “No.” She slung the first pack over her shoulder. Most of her stores she would leave behind; she had packed them only for the sea. “I shall find it myself!”

  She wheeled in the direction he pointed, the sodden bundle thudding against her when she stopped to meet his stare. “I have been protected all my life,” she said. “This I shall do on my own.”

  Ponu looked toward the jumble of boulders by the cliff. With two running steps, he launched himself, flying to land on the rocks. Flaring his feathered wings for balance, he bent at the waist and reached between two large slabs.

  Avalar squinted through the storm, struggling to see the crystal staff he plucked from the stones.

  A flash of gray exploded from the gap. The lean-bodied creature, whooping furiously, leapt at Ponu’s boot. Avalar watched it climb. She recognized Saemson, the agile little beast the elf kept as his companion. Ponu tilted his head, and the ferret darted under his hair. Then calmly he assessed her, his violet eyes gleaming.

  “We’ll speak again!” he shouted. “When you are ready!”

  Avalar blinked. With a movement too swift to follow, Ponu transferred, removing himself from her sight. Already the pocket of warmth he had created dissipated, and the sleet pounded harder still.

  “Sails,” she whispered.

  She was alone.

  Chapter 4

  PONU, HESITATING AT the mouth of his cave, leaned on his staff and squinted behind him into the tunnel from which he had come. Within the darkness, he glimpsed the row of descending torches, brands that when kindled by his magic illuminated the steep narrow path to his workroom.

  Random images danced along his gnarled staff’s crystalline shaft, a kaleidoscope of possible futures distracting him from his thoughts. Scowling, he wedged the staff, one of the very few objects he still retained from his homeworld, into a crack in the stone that formed the entrance to his home.

  “You’re supposed to be making my life easier,” he chided as he eyed the Staff of Time. When will that happen aga—”

  He caught himself with a wince. “Talking to inanimate objects now, are we?” Sighing, he withdrew an egg-shaped quartz from one of his belt’s dangling pouches. Gripping the Star Crystal from Earth, he pivoted in a circle, clearing away the snow with his booted feet to expose the grayish ice of his mirror. Sephrym’s Eye, he reflected, thinking its name as he peered intently down.

  Power surged as Ponu focused on the warder Sephrym, a celestial being whose thought-energy, an alien force perilous to Talenkai’s magic, drew nearer to the six outer worlds orbiting its sun. The warder, responding to his call, directed its fire
through the stone Ponu held to channel and shield its power, the energy spilling in translucent streamers to the ice at his feet.

  Easy does it, Ponu thought to the entity, his eyes closed in concentration. Just a smidge, that’s it, and a bit more. You’re too close, Sephrym! Here, let me compensate.

  Licking his dry lips, Ponu crouched to touch the same fire Sephrym gathered to make stars. Through the conduit that was the stone from Earth, he guided the great being’s power, swirling it in glowing patterns over the ice. It melted and merged, a magic he shaped with his thoughts, resembling liquid metal as it heated the frozen water, expanding it into a silvery pool.

  Carefully he submerged his curled fingers, pressing the stone under the glassy surface as he bent to block out the sun. Above his knuckles, his likeness winked out, and from the shadows the tiny ripples made, Avalar’s image formed.

  He inspected her salvaged supplies as she did, his view shifting to peer over her shoulder while she sorted them out, her braided hair flicking with her movements. She squatted in a dry patch at the rear of the cave to which he had sent her, in a corner behind its slanted ceiling.

  Leaning back, Ponu raised the Star Crystal above the water to broaden his field of vision. Avalar’s image wavered across the pool, stiffening at the edges where the fluid hardened. The giant donned her bracers, mail shirt and armor, oblivious to his scrutiny or the lurking threat of Sephrym’s fire.

  He saw her shrug on her furry cloak and soon after organize her gear. Nodding his approval, he followed her trek westward to the falls. Frozen at the top by the late-autumn ice storms, the Shamath River plunged in plumes of rising mist to the sea below. Beside the pounding, roaring water, she ascended the slippery stone in stages, the bundles on her back pulling her off balance in the angry wind.