Song Of Mornius

by Diane E Steinbach

  “Sails,” Avalar whispered. He drew a shuddering breath, focusing his thoughts on the red-yellow finches singing in the branches above and the random plop of ice from the silvery tree limbs behind him. He loosened his grip and the giant let him go.

  “Thank you,” said Gaelin. “Whatever I did to anger you, I’m sorry.”

  Her fingers brushed his forehead. “Come,” she said.

  Chapter 20

  WIPING HIS CHEEK, Gaelin glanced to where the giant pointed. Ahead of them on the trail, Terrek stood with his arms crossed. If he had witnessed their embrace, he gave no sign. “We’ve made it to the cliff,” he said. “Are you ready to join us?”

  Gaelin frowned, his attention on the vertical slash of the hill’s craggy bones through the trees. As he and Avalar followed behind Terrek, the path curved to the left and ended, torn asunder where the ground had collapsed.

  Caven Roth stood poised on a protrusion above them, his back against the precipice’s uneven surface, the toes of his boots jutting beyond a boulder’s edge. “This is the way!” he shouted and then gestured to the jumble of rocks and twisted roots over his head. “Just don’t step on that loose slab, or more will go!”

  Crouching on his heels, Gaelin leaned as far as he dared to examine the rock wall below. The trail had taken them halfway up the steep ascent, and yet even from here, the fall was lethal.

  He eyed the giant when she stopped beside him. “This is why my trainer Roshar Navaren would not recommend this climb to me,” she said. “See you how the shale is separated? The stone has been depleted of its magic. Power from one of the warders must have touched this place long ago.”

  “The creatures kill whatever land they come in contact with,” Terrek agreed while he stripped off his pack, followed by his furry cloak. “Holram was near death when he arrived here, and that is the only reason this area still has life. As for the castle, it appears as though he placed it here. The relic is not damaged enough to have fallen from the sky.”

  Gaelin averted his face when Terrek turned toward him. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Gaelin shrugged. “I do if I don’t look down.”

  “My brother went up this at least once,” Terrek said. “He wanted to salvage treasures from the castle to display in the museum. I think if he managed it, you can.”

  Gaelin stared at the cliff’s rocky base, the thunder of his blood pulsing again behind his thoughts. From deep within his staff, he heard Holram sing with the storm’s massive voice, urging him to climb and free the trapped warrior. Dazed, shifting his weight, Gaelin nodded.

  “Enough of this!” Roth complained from the rocks above.

  “Hold, Lieutenant!” Terrek paused. “Now, boys,” he drawled, “there’ll be none of that. Roth, remember what we discussed. You have nothing to prove today.”

  Gaelin tensed as Avalar knelt next to him. “Mount my neck,” she bid him in an undertone, “and I shall carry you.”

  “But what if my staff touches you?” Gaelin said.

  Her jaw hardened. “Has it not already? Or do you expect me not to comprehend why you are ill?”

  Gaelin flinched. He had done much worse than touch her with magic. He had hoped to erase her memory, and she knew it. “That’s why you’re angry,” he murmured. “You never said.”

  Her ire faded. “I saw no need,” she said. “You made a mistake, and I am grateful the air shielded me. Your magic was diluted by Leader Terrek’s body. I still know not what direct exposure would do. It is my hope you never show me.”

  Her capacity for forgiveness astonished him. Shakily Gaelin rose to his feet. Never in his adult life had he surrendered himself bodily into the care of another person, and here she was asking him to. But she’s also taking a risk, he reminded himself, and she’s a giant; she has every reason not to. “I won’t let it touch you,” he promised.

  She smiled and hoisted him up by the hips, placing him astride her warm neck. He rocked back, catching a heart-stopping view of the trees at the foot of the cliff, and grabbed wildly for her head.

  “I do have to see,” she told him, prying his death grip from her face. “Hold on to my braids if you must. You can give your magic to Leader Terrek. Mayhap it will aid him if I cannot.”

  Trembling, keeping his elbow locked straight to avoid contact with the giant, he inclined his staff, scowling at its darkened Skystone’s indifference to his fear.

  As Terrek approached, Gaelin spied a glint in his hazel eyes, a glimmer of empathy. With a sigh, Gaelin leaned forward over Avalar’s shoulders and surrendered Mornius to his friend. His outstretched hand empty, he watched Terrek turn away clasping what had always been his, the one comfort he had known since losing his mother. Then abruptly Gaelin gasped when the tree trunks dropped around him, the giant lurching to her feet, raising him among the branches.

  With determined strides, she followed the humans, her efforts lifting him to where he could see the sharp rocks below. Her back was bent while she climbed. In two powerful surges, her head reached the slab where Terrek and Roth stood.

  “Take it slow,” said Terrek to Roth. “No showing off.”

  “I hear you,” Roth replied as he ventured higher. When a stone crumbled beneath his boot, Roth kicked out blindly in search of a toehold, Terrek’s grip on his waist supporting him until he found one.

  “Wait!” Terrek snatched an object that had slid from Roth’s pack, unrolling it to reveal an all too familiar image. “What’s this you have?” he demanded. “You took this after I told you not to. Where’s its frame?”

  “I left it at the museum,” Roth said. “Terrek, it’s his picture. What else could I do? This is all that we have left of—”

  “He loved that museum, and that’s where his likeness belongs.” Terrek returned the painting to its place in Roth’s weathered bundle. “Now get going,” he said, giving the youth’s ribs a firm nudge. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  Roth dragged himself up another step. Behind him, Terrek reached over his shoulder to shove the staff he had agreed to carry further under his pack and out of his way.

  Groaning, Roth stopped, his fingers clutching at the frosted stone. Is he afraid? Gaelin wondered, hearing Terrek’s reassuring words to the boy.

  Gaelin, grasping Avalar’s braids when she leaned backward, waited while she scrutinized the boulders looming above them. He held his breath, awed by her skill as she vaulted to the lip of a slab nearby before continuing on all fours. He remembered the lesson she had imparted to him on the trail. Even without his staff, he sensed the shale’s surviving magic lending its strength to her.

  The giant’s proximity annoyed Terrek, Gaelin noted, seeing him glance at her repeatedly. Smiling, Gaelin rested his chin on her blond head. “Avalar,” he murmured into her hair. “I think they want this to be dangerous, at least a little.”

  “I have erred?” she asked. “I mean only to protect them.”

  “I know. And so does Terrek, but—”

  Something sharp struck his scalp as their companions reached the top. Gaelin ducked when Terrek’s foot dislodged another barrage of fragments.

  Avalar sprang to catch a rim of stone with both hands and then clambered up. Another prodigious effort brought her armored shoulders above the overhang where the two men stood. She hung with her weight on her elbows, her fingers scrabbling at the ice. “Get off, Staff-Wielder!” she cried, as she began to slip.

  Terrek darted to snag Gaelin’s wrist, helping him scramble off Avalar’s neck. Giddy with fear, Gaelin stared while Terrek and Roth seized the collar of his cloak, dragging him on his back from the lethal fall.

  As Avalar raised herself again to swipe at the ledge with her heel, Gaelin wrung his hands. If she falls, we can’t help her. She’s too big. I could use my— He froze in helpless horror, seeing Mornius wedged out of his reach among Terrek’s gear.

  Yanking a rope from Roth’s pack, Terrek lunged at the giant. She cried out when more ice crumbled, pawing at the slick surface, her eyes
wild with fear.

  “Avalar!” Terrek crouched in front of her, the heels of his boots catching on a thin patch of granite.

  “Do not!” Avalar raged. Her fingers slid, gouging furrows into the layers glazing the rock. “I shall not be your slayer!”

  Terrek knelt, looping the rope under both the giant’s arms as she heaved upward. The overhang fell with a sharp crack, huge chunks of ice dropping away to leave Avalar clawing at the stone, her blood staining its surface.

  His feet braced, Terrek threw himself back against the pull of Avalar’s weight. Drawn by the urgent demand of his stare, Gaelin hurried behind him to seize the line.

  “Fight, Giant!” Terrek shouted. “Holram’s balls, fight!”

  Avalar planted her palms, pushing with all her strength. “I am in need!” she cried to the sky. “Help me!”

  Wind, sudden and intense, yowled fiercely from the expanse around Tierdon. A tumbling knot of gray-white air surged up from below, lifting Avalar and flinging her to safety above the cliff.

  Terrek released the rope and hastened to the giant, supporting her as best he could while she struggled into a seated position. Then, squatting beside her, he cradled her bruised fingers and opened them gently, pressing snow to her lacerated flesh.

  “You could have died,” she whispered, shuddering. “If I had fallen, you surely would have died.”

  Terrek patted her hand. “I knew you’d fight harder so I would not. Now come,” he said, peering into her eyes. “You’re bleeding. Let’s get you bandaged up.”

  Chapter 21

  AVALAR, HER MAIL chinking softly, bent to Gaelin’s level. “There is something here,” she said. “I sense a lonesomeness about this place.”

  Gaelin examined the cornerstone nearest to him, a gray block wider than the span of his arm, then peered at the jagged top of the frosty rampart, its details blurred by the light of the sun setting in crimson beyond the mountains. To his left, below the cliff, he scanned the wintry field they had left behind. Squinting, he made out the disjointed line where their horses had slogged through the drifts. He rubbed his eyes, spying larger splayed-toed tracks that marred the pristine white blanket around the city, imprints that vanished the instant he spotted them. A swirling of snow rose abruptly, and for a blink, the suggestion of wings.

  Gaelin tensed when the giant tilted his face toward her. “It is a Stormfury,” she whispered. “An Azkhar. Rare to find one this far north. When you looked his way, I fear it made him uneasy. If you can see him, Staff-Wielder, you are the second human I have known who can.”

  “I can’t,” Gaelin said as the giant straightened up. “Just a whole lot of winter.” He chewed his lip, fingering his staff while he stepped to examine what he could of the castle above, a series of pointed rooftops descending into rows of clouded icicles. He shuddered, his gaze finding the empty slits of the darkened windows, and the chilled winged statues glaring down. “How big are they?” he asked the giant. “These . . . Azkhar.”

  “There is much on this world you cannot see,” she said. “The wings of the largest Azkharren queens stretch as wide as the sky, Staff-Wielder. When the fighting males came to defend us against the slavers, those wizards scorched their wings. Many of the great creatures fell into the sea and perished. Which is why, out of respect, we giants no longer fly them.”

  Gaelin nodded as Terrek stopped in front of him. The commander was staring at the point where the outer wall of the citadel ended and another, lesser wall angled in adjacent to the castle, a curved roof with an ornate archway joining it to the main structure.

  “I wonder if this led to a garden,” Terrek murmured, tugging open what remained of the rusted gate.

  Avalar frowned while she sniffed at the wind. “The breeze feels wrong upon my skin. Corruption has touched it, and not so long ago.”

  “Keep alert,” Terrek urged. Leaning down, he picked up a stick and then stepped forward, sweeping away the dried vegetation to vanish into the sheltered path.

  Gaelin heard the thuds of his shoulder colliding with something hard, followed by a slow metallic squeak. Sounds of strangled coughing ensued, and Terrek, red-faced, stumbled back.

  Avalar crouched behind Terrek, scowling into the shadows beneath the archway. Uneasily she shifted her feet, clasping her weapon’s hilt as Terrek slipped again out of sight. “I would need to crawl to fit through there,” she muttered. “After so many cycles of slavery, the bones of this giant’s neck shall not be the first glimpse this human place has of my people. Yet mayhap there are other ways in. If not . . . Call if you need my blade, Leader Terrek. I am a giant. I do not fear.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid,” Terrek replied from under the arch, his words punctuated by the scrape of his stick. “It saved you on the cliff, did it not?”

  She puffed out her chest. “Nevertheless, I shall come to your aid should you require me. Even if I must order this stone to unblock my way!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Terrek said. “These rocks are not of your world and they wouldn’t hear you. Even if they did, you will do no such thing.” Cobwebs fluttered from the curved piece of wood Terrek held as he reemerged. He tossed the stick into the snow and gestured to the giant. “The main entrance is at the rear facing those trees, according to my brother. It’s very tall, so I doubt, my dear, you’ll even have to duck.”

  Avalar swept him a bow over her massive sword. With a humph, she strode past him, drumming her fingers along the contours of the layered stones as she slipped out of sight around a corner.

  “Staff-Wielder,” said Terrek. “Come and see.”

  Gaelin hurried to join his friend before the ruined gate. He peered through the dusty shadows, discerning at last the barrier Terrek had opened.

  “Be careful,” Terrek warned when Gaelin slid forward. Catching himself on the entry’s frame, Gaelin stood for a long moment and stared wide-eyed beyond its threshold into a darkened room.

  As Mornius crackled abruptly, a tiny globe of light erupted from its Skystone and shot across the doorstep, dashing from candlesticks to lamps to sconces on the walls and igniting them as it went. The rounded chamber brightened as Gaelin watched, the sputtering flames from the lanterns illuminating bookshelves from floor to ceiling along the walls.

  With an enormous puff of soot, the blue sphere slammed into a hearth, kindling the husks of ancient logs scattered within. Bouncing back, the little ball hovered above the library’s floor, whirled once in a glowing arc, then zigzagged up the castle’s marble stairs.

  Caven Roth whistled a sharp note of approval as he stopped by the fireplace and leaned on the mantel, running his thumb through the dust.

  “What did you do?” Terrek asked, and Gaelin jumped when the commander gripped his shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” said Gaelin. “It just happened. I think it was Holram controlling the staff. Like he did when I was healing Vyergin’s horse.”

  Terrek pulled him farther into the room and set him, dizzy and stumbling, at the edge of a circular black-and-white mosaic that took up half the chamber’s floor. “Holram is a warder. He can’t do anything without your guidance. What were you thinking?”

  Gaelin trembled despite the heat from the fire. “I wasn’t thinking anything. I was just . . . wishing I could see. I was about to ask my—”

  “There!” said Terrek. “There’s our answer. I suspected this might happen after you shared what the Seeker elves said. Holram’s responding to your thoughts faster than you can. Do you realize what this means? You and he are becoming one.”

  Terrek’s gaze burned with certainty, and yet Gaelin rejected his words. Shaking, tripping over his own feet, he wheeled and blundered toward the entrance.

  “That’s not true!” The words passed his lips before he could stop them. Hugging his staff to his chest, he pressed against the doorway. I won’t be possessed, he thought. This is my life!

  Terrek moved to stand behind him. “Holram responds to you, Staff-Wielder. The mo
re you let yourself accept him, the greater your skill will be.”

  Gaelin turned. “Should I give up?” he demanded. “What about my hope to live for me? Or is that asking too—” He broke off.

  “Until we stop Erebos,” Terrek reminded him gently, “none of us will live the way we want. I trained horses to sell. Do you think I like being here? Or that I enjoy killing innocent people? It makes me sick, what we are forced to do!”

  Gaelin bowed his head, his cheeks flaming. He studied his feet and the patch of the library’s floor he could see in the firelight. Despite its layers of dust, the mosaic still gleamed under the faint pulse of Mornius’s gem, its black-and-white marble pattern oddly familiar.

  As a child, he had slept with his staff in his hand, ready to fend off his fears. On nights when the Companion’s eye was full, its silvery light had spilled through the cracks in the rafters above him. He had pretended its brightness was hope, a place to which he could fly, the radiant Skystone guiding his way.

  He smelled the rotted barn where he had slept and heard again the wind whistling through the pines around him, though now, instead of rafters, a midnight sky wheeled overhead. He saw deep within the blackness, the outline of a figure lifting its hand. In its grasp swelled an ancient sun, its brilliance fading to crimson, its six worlds doomed to die with it.

  The entity reached to catch a golden star, then contracted its fingers until flames shot out in all directions in a soundless, blinding explosion.

  Stop! Gaelin found himself on his knees supported by Terrek. He heard himself speak in a low, flat voice, uttering words that could never be his. Whole sentences tumbled from his lips while the mosaic beneath him stretched out forever.

  Gaelin sensed Avalar near. “The front of the castle is ruined,” the giant murmured to Terrek. “It is melted. I have never beheld stone so damaged as . . .”

  As her comment faded in his ears, Gaelin heard the snapping of the fire in the hearth, the shrieks of the dying flames. He bent, his brow pressed to Terrek’s shoulder as the murdered star pleaded from far away. He moaned in response, his sight dimming where the sun had been, as everything would be until he acted to prevent it.