“Why do you wish the world harm?” Avalar said. “I cannot touch your magic. You know this!”
“The elves created Mornius so you could,” he told her. “There’s a stone tree somewhere in the forest around Tierdon. That was the temple where the Eris elves shielded Holram until they could make him the staff.” Gaelin paused. “The warder speaks to me. He wants you to know he won’t hurt you as long as he has Mornius. But neither of you consider how I might feel!”
He gestured at the bloodstained snow and shuddered. “These dachs were human once, yet you tore them apart with your bare hands, and now you expect me to trust you? How do I know you won’t turn on me if I use my staff? Please,” he urged, “we need to get past this. On the cliff, it made sense for me to give my staff to Terrek. If Mornius had touched you then, you could have fallen and killed us both. But here there’s no such danger. We can find out the truth. Or”—he shrugged—“we can both go on being afraid. Is that what you want?”
She scowled. “I am not ‘afraid’ of any—”
“You are and you have reason to be, from what you’ve told me. But when Holram healed you through the Skystone, there was no harm.” Gaelin glowered at the staff. Light, he willed its lusterless gem. Just— “And Terrek,” he said to the giant. “He agrees Mornius is not a threat to you. Why can’t you believe him?”
“You know not how that stone jangles my nerves,” Avalar replied. “Everything in me recoils when I am near it. My magic is in my flesh. It is a part of me. I have no choice but to heed it more than I do Leader Terrek. And it is telling me—”
“So go home!” Gaelin stared at his chilled arms as the wind ruffled his sleeves. “Where’s my jacket and cloak?” he muttered.
The giant strode through the trampled dachs to gather his things. He wriggled into the leather and wool garments she gave him, his gaze on the tracks she had left in the snow. “Your path is clear enough even for me,” he said. “I can follow it by myself.”
“Are you certain you can walk?” she asked. “You are wobbling where you stand.”
“I will manage,” said Gaelin. “If you’re gone, at least I won’t have to worry about being torn limb from limb the next time I try to— Oh!”
A blue light sprang above him, crackling with bolts of violet, brighter than any fire Mornius had emitted before. He gaped at the staff in his grasp, and at Avalar’s white knuckles engulfing his. She had reached out despite her fear, to wrap her strong fingers over his own. Her head was thrown back, her teeth bared at the sky, and in her face was terror, as if she braced for the clouds to tumble down and the ground to crack asunder.
“Avalar!” He extricated his fingers from hers and seized her wrists. “Look! You’re doing it!”
“I cannot be! I—” She goggled at the staff’s expanding power, Mornius’s pulses flaring more radiantly with every convulsion. The woods around them came to life, the dachs’ spilled blood absorbing into the thawing soil. New leaves poked like springtime into their view, and moss shed its ice to grow green among the gnarled bark of the trees.
Avalar gasped, and as Mornius toppled from her hands, Gaelin caught its shaft. Then the ground lurched beneath him, the trees creaking as they bent and swayed. A soundless brilliance lit the heavy clouds, the shaking of the forest knocking him flat and stretching the giant beside him.
“Was that my—” He focused on the quartz glowing in the mud above his hair, feeling the weight of Mornius’s iron heel skitter down his neck from where it had landed across his throat. No, it isn’t, he thought, eyeing the Skystone’s quiet flicker. That flash came from the city!
Avalar struggled to her feet and lifted her head, tracking something outside his vision. “I must go,” she announced abruptly, hastening to penetrate the underwood between the dense trees.
Gaelin, clambering to his feet, tried to follow. “Wait!” he called. He lost his balance and tripped, pitching onto his chest. “Avalar!” Arms quivering, he pushed himself erect. “You can’t just leave! What if Nithra’s still out there?”
She turned, holding out her hands as she wheeled in a circle. Something invisible was colliding with her body, the force of it making her stumble. “He summons my magic!” Avalar howled, her face red. “The air and the rocks! The flesh of animals and giants must answer!”
“Who wants your magic?” Gaelin shouted. “Avalar, don’t go!”
She swooped down on him, scooping him up in the crook of her elbow. “An elf!” she answered. She was sprinting with him flopping in her grasp, her body crashing through the brush. Gaelin, glimpsing creatures racing by, spied a bird larger than he was leaping through the lower branches over his head.
“Where are we going?” he cried. “What elf?”
“Does it matter? I must—”
“Avalar, hold!” a familiar voice roared.
A white horse appeared with a spray of bitter cold powder, its haunches bunching as its hind feet skidded. Terrek was astride Duncan, Gaelin realized, accompanied by Silva riding behind him. Then Roth pushed from the trees on his dark gray stallion, Jack nervously stomping to a halt beside Terrek’s mount.
“Let Gaelin go,” Terrek told the giant. “He’s in no condition to be thrown around like that. Put him—”
Gaelin grunted as his body hit the ground. “Done!” Avalar replied curtly. Growling, she shouldered aside the two horses. “Now I must go! I am summoned!”
“An elf calls her!” Gaelin explained to the bewildered Terrek.
Silva slid from Terrek’s gelding and hastened over, reaching to pull Gaelin up. “What was that fire in the sky? Did you see it?” Gaelin asked him. Receiving no answer, he opened his mouth to inquire again but stopped when Terrek threaded his horse between the clustered pines to head off the giant.
“Avalar, think!” Terrek maneuvered Duncan to block her path, then leaned to grab her arm. “No elf would summon one of your people for magic. The giants are too few for them to—” Terrek stopped. “Holram’s balls!” he howled as Avalar pushed past him into the shadows.
As Terrek glared at the swaying branches that had swallowed the giant, Silva boosted Gaelin onto Duncan’s back.
“Jack won’t carry two,” Roth said dourly to Silva. “You’ll have to ride him.” With a grunt, he jumped to the ground. “Don’t worry, I’m fast. I’ll run in front. Just get on my horse!”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” the guard grumbled, moving to stand by Roth’s jittery mount.
Roth waited, holding his stallion’s reins while Silva swung onto the gray’s back to sit quietly as Jack bucked. Crooning to his horse to calm him down, Roth patted the animal’s neck and then darted into the trees.
“You’re pale, Staff-Wielder,” observed Terrek. “You used Mornius, didn’t you?”
“Avalar was sick and I was . . .” Gaelin shook his head. “The mage who captured me told me a dach drained my blood. Holram couldn’t replace that, but . . . I’m well enough. Let’s go!”
As Duncan’s muscles surged beneath him, Gaelin pressed his knees in tight to the gelding, the branches clawing at his legs, threatening to rip him from the animal’s back. A salty odor assailed his nostrils; for a moment he felt as if he was plunging in terror to flee the dilapidated cabin, his threadbare tunic covered with his stepfather’s blood.
“Gods, what a beast!” Silva complained. “High withers, green broke . . . And his mouth! Hard as leather!”
“He’s the finest racer in Kideren,” Terrek said. “You should be in front by now. Come on, old friend! Get him moving!”
Raising his head, Gaelin peered at the hint of golden dawn between the trees. As the two horses clattered over the frozen dirt, Gaelin felt magic prickling his skin. He yelped at a second fiery burst, the power of it hitting him again a moment later, its vibrations rippling through his hair as it rocked the ground. This is bigger than Avalar’s magic, he thought. It’s just so—
The leggy young Jack bounded by, his black tail flagging above his back. It was as if
he had caught his master’s scent and was galloping to find him while Silva, swaying in the saddle, bared his teeth and fought for control.
Gaelin shuddered at the sensation of magic on his skin. So effortless, he marveled, clenching his staff. This elf is mighty! The power he calls begs to answer!
Terrek and Silva loosened their reins as the trees thinned out, letting their mounts plunge into the snow. “It’s attacking Tierdon!” Terrek shouted as Gaelin spotted Roth standing red-faced and still at the edge of the open field.
When Jack stopped in his tracks to neigh at Roth, Silva quickly dismounted. Beyond them, Avalar crouched among the drifts with her left knee lifted. A halo of white framed the shattered city past her shoulders, the same blinding fire Gaelin had witnessed over the forest.
Dazed, he raised his staff.
Chapter 26
GAELIN SCREAMED AS another wave struck. The blast of power slammed against his chest, jolting him from Duncan’s back. His cry cut off as he landed on his belly with his head turned sideways, the ground heaving beneath him. Duncan stood motionless in a nearby drift, the gelding’s ears pricked toward the city, while Terrek lay sprawled at the animal’s feet, his body partially concealed by the snow.
“Commander!” Roth cried. “I can’t move!”
“Neither can I!” Terrek shouted.
Resting on his stomach, Gaelin squinted when another flash engulfed Tierdon.
“What is it, Staff-Wielder?” demanded Terrek. “Can you tell if—”
“Somebody’s by the ruins!” Silva cut in. “What is . . . he’s got feathers. He’s . . . Wait, what is he doing?”
Summoning Avalar, Gaelin thought, straining in vain to see the elf. But why? His gaze settled on Mornius’s shaft lying near him, its orb half-buried, with just a sliver of the gem visible. His image peered back at him sadly, his face reflected in the crystal’s rounded surface. He stared past the stone to Roth’s stallion held immobile in mid-canter, the horse’s long black tail flipped up, his hooves suspended.
Gaelin focused beyond Jack, finding Avalar still squatting with her back turned. A distortion rippled between her midriff and the city, a ribbon of shimmering light connecting her to Tierdon.
Shadows were darkening the distant wreckage, cast by a pair of hovering, semitransparent beasts. The immense creatures sparkled as they flew, their blue hides resembling liquid glass, and the force of their wingbeats stirred up whirlwinds of powdery white, stripping the ice around the city bare. Gaelin strained to make out their forms, their dragonesque heads reared back. Two glimmering tendrils held the monsters in place, the elf’s strange power tethering them as surely as it had ensnared Avalar.
“The wings of the largest Azkharren queens stretch as wide as the sky,” he recalled the giant describing her Stormfuries, and it was true. Clouds tumbled overhead, disrupted by the creatures’ flight. He glimpsed in his mind Holram’s perceptions through the Skystone—of countless magical animals frozen on the outskirts of the field. Like Avalar, they had been drawn to contribute their strength, and now an untold number of glowing gossamer threads reached from their bodies to converge at the city’s heart.
Gaelin felt a surge from beneath the drifts, molten stone thrusting through layers of ancient sediment toward the surface. The steaming air was pressing him flat, the wings above him quickening their tempo.
Avalar groaned, and through Holram’s senses, Gaelin felt her strength ebbing, the magic linking her to the elf growing fainter. She’s going to die, he realized. Another flash brought tears to his eyes as the clouds revolved atop the wind. He gasped when Mornius found his hand, the Skystone crackling to form a sphere around his body, a multicolored shield allowing him, at last, to stumble to his feet.
“No, Staff-Wielder, do not!” Avalar cried out weakly. “That is Ponu, do you hear? Leader Terrek, stop him! I know you named this Camron’s city. In sooth, it is not! Ponu created it, and he will—”
As thunder muffled her words, Gaelin hefted his staff and sprinted toward the elven intruder. He discerned the figure now, the mage at the eye of the storm springing astride an Azkhar suspended above him and close to the ground, the creature lifting Ponu up and out of the way of the gale’s hot fury.
The winged elf clambered to his feet between the queen’s translucent shoulders. Standing indomitable, his silvery hair flying wild in the blast, he raised his bare arms, ensnaring the threads of magic from the myriad of beasts surrounding him, forming the strands into a flashing ball. With a fierce cry, Ponu hurled the mass into the wind, lighting it afire using an object he snatched from one of his many pockets. The power blasted Tierdon, shattering what remained of its buildings and domes.
Gaelin tottered below his staff’s protective arch, his hearing muted, his legs threatening to topple him to the ashy slush. Tears stung his eyes as the great city melted, slumping like wax into a glowing lake of scalding vapor, magma bursting forth from the riven terrain. A huge slab of granite, streaming with water, tore through the ice to his left, and another sprang before him, and another to his right, columns of rock jutting up in every direction. A forest of stone, massive spires of jagged granite, erupted around the city’s sagging walls, driven to the surface by the pressures underneath, merging Tierdon with the bones of the world.
Dropping his staff, Gaelin gagged at the stench of the air. The soil sank beneath his weight, his dizziness making the valley whirl, knocking him flat onto his stomach. His mouth was full of blood, smearing his hand. He stared as the city rose anew from the steam and fire, leaping ribbons of lava adhering to form buildings and walls. The storm flayed the rising granite, grinding the stones into glass and crystal, the diamond-paned surface of overlapping domes climbing skyward.
The outline of the Azkhar queen lowered itself, the field trembling when her clawed feet hit the ground. In a flutter of white pinions, the elf leapt from her back—to land with a splash below the beast as the great creature sprang aloft. The mage faced Tierdon with his wings unfurled, his hand holding up a pale-blue crystal that shaped the fire and molded the stone.
Stop! Gaelin wanted to shout, but he was fading, his breaths ripping agony through his chest. He coughed, spraying blood. “You’re hurting her!” he shouted as he struggled to rise, his voice frayed into nothingness by the howling wind. “You’re—”
The flames beneath the clouds receded, the currents from the Azkharrens’ wings hardening the city. The elf made a sweeping gesture and a lump of molten rock thrashed upward in the new plaza—to form itself into the statue of a gaunt giant, the obsidian figure poised with his battle braids flying, a broken shackle and chain in his upraised fist.
A bolt of emerald whizzed past Gaelin to dive at the winged elf. It rounded into a ball of green light as it halted in front of the mage, then darkened at its center as the image of a knight filled it, a phantom warrior stretching tall with his arms crossed. “End this, you fool!” Nathaniel Argus bellowed, his voice cracking above the thunder. “Or is it your wish to slay a giant?”
When the elf waved his hand, Argus vanished and everything stopped, the crimson storm dissipating from the sky. Gaelin waited for the granite studding the field to sink back into the loosened dirt, but the smoothed ebony spires remained, whitening under the freezing mist. He struggled to move as the elf approached him, as the water hardened around him and held him still. He could no longer feel his fingers, and his bones ached as the numbness extended into his wrists.
Ice crunched beside him. “Child of Othelion,” a voice said quietly, a pleased note of discovery in its lyrical tone. Calves clad in laced leather boots stepped into his sight, followed by knees as the stranger knelt. The elf reached out; then Gaelin felt a touch at the base of his throat, a tingle spreading through his body as the frozen slush melted and let him go. “You are a mess, Staff-Wielder,” the elf observed.
Gaelin jerked his gaze up to see the elf leaning over him. Ponu, Gaelin thought, surprised by the strength of the fingers that flipped him onto his back, Ponu s
liding him up until his head rested on the elf’s lap. Gaelin stretched out his arm, groping for his staff.
“Mornius is here,” Ponu reassured him. “But right now, we need to think about you. You are dying, Staff-Wielder. Your flesh was not made for such power. Even the elves on this world would not withstand it for long. Behold!” Gaelin shuddered when Ponu touched his scalp and lifted from it a clump of snarled hair.
“I know,” Gaelin rasped. “Terrek showed me already.”
“This kind of energy is deadly, and yet you squander it recklessly,” scolded the elf. “Crossing the field with Mornius blazing, when you could have sent the ghost. You need to think before you act. Or you will never survive. You must learn—” Wearily Gaelin closed his eyes, and the voice above him stopped.
“Avalar is well,” Ponu told him after a pause. “She’s on her way to your encampment. You were right to warn me. But she survived. I did not realize she was so near. Her sire, Grevelin, is also; perhaps now she is preparing herself to meet him, for where I go, he often goes as well. I left him where my magic would not hurt him, sheltered by the walls of the sacrificed tree that housed Holram after the warders arrived.” There was a moment of silence.
“What Avalar suffered this day is only a taste of what her father endured from the slavers,” Ponu went on. “Many giants died because of humans touching magic, and not so long ago. Yet Grevelin insisted on coming to this place of humans. ‘To protect me,’ he said.” Ponu chuckled, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “Such is the stubbornness of giants, I suppose.”
“Am I really dying?” Gaelin whispered.
Ponu regarded him sadly. “Indeed, you are, my friend. We must act soon. Now wait, let me . . .” Ponu delved into one of two pouches affixed to his belt. He nodded, noting Gaelin’s expression. “What is it about you humans fearing death?” he asked, withdrawing from the pouch a tiny parcel tied with string. Carefully he unknotted the twine with his teeth and set the paper beside him. “Death . . .” He pointed at his upturned hand and then made a quick spooning motion. “Yes, you are dying. And one day you will be gone. Do you think endless life is better? Bethink you, as giants would say. It is not so easy, being immortal.”
Song Of Mornius Page 20