At the center of the whirlpool, an adult-sized body formed curled in a fetal position. The unconscious figure twitched while the water upheld it, its misshapen limbs dangling.
As the pond gradually cleared, the newborn’s anatomy took on definition. Now arms and legs hugged the currents, and a wavy red mane sprouted from the skull.
Felrina seized Holram’s wrist. “No!” she gasped. “He’s too big!”
Holram spied the little hairs erupting from the skin, the freckles dotting the figure’s hands. He could see the fingernails growing, the fingers beginning to move.
“He’s . . . !” Felrina gasped.
Holram nodded. “A giant.” Inhaling deeply, he reined in his power until, bit by bit, the water settled, sloshing gently along the tarn’s granite rim. As he surveyed what his efforts had wrought, the Skystone winked out.
In the absolute blackness of the cave, Holram frowned at his host’s fatigue. Gaelin’s waning health was wicking away his energy, impairing his ability to focus. Holram heard the ragged breathing of his companions as they waited him out, neither one questioning his failure.
“But I thought,” Felrina said through the darkness, “you were bringing Camron back. I assumed he would be Terrek’s gift.”
“And he is,” Holram told her. “The physical form has been adapted to match the spirit Avalar recalled. I assure you, he is Camron. Who else could he be?”
Water gurgled as something large swam through it. A hard cough filled the chamber, a fourth set of lungs snatching the air in greedy gulps.
“Where am I?” asked a masculine voice. “What am I?”
Holram clenched his fist, and the Skystone roused, its glow spreading in tentative flickers. Avalar remained kneeling with her hands in the pool, her eyes screwed shut. An enormous male giant climbed the tarn’s hidden steps before her. Leaning down, he grasped her wrists—to lift them dripping from the water.
Avalar started. “Camron!” she cried and threw her arms around him.
Felrina, gasping, sank to her knees. “Camron! It is you!”
Terrek appeared at the top of the chamber, followed by Roth. The latter slammed to a stop, stunned. Then Vyergin burst into view, and lastly Wren Neche. Terrek stumbled as he saw the newcomer, his jaw dropping. “Blazes!” he cried, vaulting at a run down the rocky shelves toward them, his expression incredulous as he beheld the warm pillar of living flesh that was his brother.
Gaelin blinked groggily as Holram receded from his mind, his body sinking to the floor. He smiled at the joy on Terrek’s face, the unbridled relief gleaming through Felrina Vlyn’s tears. Roth sat near the gap at the rear of the room, digging through his pack to pull out the artwork he had kept and cherished. His expression was elated, tears glimmering on his cheeks.
Vyergin whirled at the top of the ledges to vanish back into the stairwell. Moments later, he returned, red-faced and panting, dragging Avalar’s bulky pack along with the object Roth had found.
Avalar clung to Camron Florne, water rippling over her arms from his long ruddy hair. He even has freckles on his calves, Gaelin noted with a grin.
“He is beautiful,” Felrina said. Gaelin nodded at her, and at Terrek and Roth, while Avalar helped the newborn giant from the pool.
“My brother.” Terrek choked on the words.
Vyergin supplied Avalar with clothing from her pack, a tunic and her extra pair of leggings. She held them against Camron’s body, frowning as she checked the fit.
“You’re so big,” she muttered. “He made you too big, Camron!”
“Holram?” Terrek asked Gaelin, crouching near.
Gaelin shook his head. “No, just me.” His smile faded at his friend’s worried expression. “Holram needs to rest,” Gaelin explained. “I’m so sick it drains him.”
“Well,” said Terrek. “Hopefully soon you’ll be rid of each other.”
“Or dead,” Gaelin whispered.
Roth stood by Camron’s thigh, grinning while he unrolled his painting for the giant to see. “Camron, look! Remember this? I rescued it from the museum!”
Camron glanced down. “Sorry, but I don’t,” he said and turned away.
“Holram?”
Gaelin jumped as Felrina snapped her fingers in front of his nose. She gestured sharply at Camron. “Why did you make him a giant?”
Gaelin sighed. Across the floor, Roth lowered the canvas slowly, his eyes bewildered as he stared at Camron’s back. “I’m not Holram,” Gaelin said, “so I can’t tell you. You were here, and I wasn’t.”
“Wait, I am almost done!” said Avalar to the larger giant. She sawed at her spare tunic with her knife, slitting it along its sides. His movements clumsy, Camron took it from her grasp. He struggled to pull it over his head, with Avalar guiding his muscular arms through its generous sleeves. As she knelt to help him with the stretchy wool leggings, he towered above her, flexing his massive hands.
Once more, Roth positioned himself where the newly formed giant could see him. “Camron?” he asked softly. “Don’t you recognize me?”
Camron rubbed his chin. “I regret I do not,” he admitted. “I don’t even know who I am or if this is really me?”
“It’s you,” Gaelin called to him. “A combining of magic created you. And Avalar’s memory, too.”
“So I was a ghost and now I’m . . . a giant?”
“Yes!” Roth said. “I think it was an accident.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Terrek said. “There is no better gift that anyone could have given me. Gaelin, can Holram hear me? I’d like to thank him.”
Gaelin nodded. “He hears you.”
Terrek went to his gigantic sibling, grinning as he peered up. “No calling me ‘little brother,’ now,” he said, lightly punching the giant’s wrist. “That privilege belongs to me. I’m still the big brother!”
Camron’s brown eyes twinkled. “I doubt you’d say that if you had seen me before I put these on.” He motioned to the leggings. “But you are kind of puny, Terrek.” He lifted his arms, raising his undersized tunic. Fascinated, Terrek stared at Camron’s exposed midriff, the unblemished skin where a navel would normally be.
“Not much to cover up with, either!” Camron laughed, tugging at the fabric around his hips. “But at least the important parts are hidden.”
Terrek snorted.
“Now the boots,” Avalar said, squatting at his feet as Roth heaved her heavy pack next to her.
“See, Avalar?” Roth said. “I did as you asked; I wrapped the glass shard for you!” He stepped back and beamed at Camron. “I tied it to your pack.”
She smiled. “Yes, I see, Caven Roth,” she said, glancing up at Camron to see his reaction as she spoke the boy’s name. “Lieutenant, are you well? You seem out of sorts.”
“You’ll need to cut those in front,” said Vyergin, eyeing the boots she produced from her pack. “There’s no way those will fit otherwise. Here, I’ll do one. You do the other.”
Trembling, Gaelin turned from both the reunion with Camron Florne and the growing despair on Caven Roth’s face. Holram’s consciousness thrashed weakly inside him. A tingle along his spine alerted him to the mist at the back of the chamber. Slowly a power uncoiled itself, a creeping chill like premature death, the bared fangs of oblivion about to bite.
Holram thrust the single word from the pit of his chest, up his throat, and from his mouth: “Run!”
His cry was lost, consumed by a reverberating howl, a dragon screaming in thunderous rage amid a bright crimson explosion. With an earsplitting roar, the entire top of the chamber crashed down.
Absolute darkness ensued. Holram, crushed by the weight of the mountain, imprisoned in Gaelin’s unconscious flesh, could do nothing but wait as his enemy’s laughter droned on.
Chapter 64
COUGHING, AVALAR FUMBLED through the dusty darkness for her weapon. Above her, something hard and unyielding brushed her hair. Reaching up, she felt stone, floating slabs of massive rock bobbing aside when she
struggled to her knees. After a pause, she heard splashes as the heavy slabs dropped into the pool.
“Camron?” Avalar spoke softly, hoping her world’s magic had also shielded him. With growing frustration, she cast about in the murk. “Leader Terrek?”
Her breathing rasped as the silence in the pit dragged out. She blundered across her half-buried pack, identifying the bloodstone shard, still intact and wrapped in leather.
Caven Roth, she thought, recalling his sad eyes and forced smile—the last thing she had seen. “I wish I could touch you,” she whispered to the molded quartz. “No giant will believe my tale that bloodstone can be melted. Yet here you are. I beheld it myself how Holram’s staff created you—so like the Bloodsword that comforted me when I was little.”
Again she coughed. “Of all the giants, the weapon picked me. Avalar, child of Grevelin Mistavere and Alaysha Graysquall; you may as well know my names, for I shall perish soon. The sword Redeemer bade me come here. It gave courage to our Leader Thresher Govorian after he had lost all hope. Bloodstone drains giants, but the soul of the world compelled Redeemer to give to Govorian rather than take. Because of that sword, Govorian had strength enough to free his people, to snap necks and shatter rock. It guided his feet and gave him skill he never had before.
“I am telling you this,” Avalar said, “for mayhap the world will survive my death, and another sword might be needed.
“Bloodstone remembers. Therefore, the words I say now shall be imprinted in you. Perhaps one day soon you will sing to another child the way Redeemer sang to me.” Avalar rested her cheek on the shard’s leather covering. Softly then, she crooned Redeemer’s song, the same message and tune that the Bloodsword had long ago imparted to her. The language of giants was difficult for humans, both to master and to hear. The melody was dear to her, too cherished to risk exposing it to short-lived people who could not understand.
She choked on sobs as the echo of her ballad faded. How many slaves died in this way, she wondered. Buried alive and all alone? She listened to the sounds within the draining pool, the gurgle of water spilling around her knees. A deep grinding noise shook the rock below her, an irregular groan as the huge boulders settled along the tarn’s bottom.
“Avalar?” Camron’s voice queried abruptly. “I heard singing. What happened?”
“Shh!” Avalar almost laughed in her relief. “Erebos—mayhap his shadow lingers still. He wants us dead.”
“I know he does,” said Camron. “I’m aware of what he wants, and what Terrek hopes to do. Being a ghost had its advantages.”
She held her breath, seeing a red dot winking in the blackness. Her throat went dry as the inky splotch beside it moved. “Erebos is here,” she hissed. “High on the wall behind you. See that flicker?”
As he shifted closer, she caught his scent—sweet, like a newborn babe’s. For a moment, she clung to his elbow.
“What should we do?” he whispered. “I’m not good at battling things. I’ve never been a warrior.”
Avalar grimaced. “He cannot slay us without killing the world, and if Talenkai dies, he would be forced above the sky to fight Sephrym. I think our magic protects us. We are safe for now to find our friends.” Reaching out, she explored the slabs of granite piled around her.
Grief entered Camron’s voice. “I’m afraid to look.”
“So am I, and yet we must.” Avalar felt her way to where she had last seen Terrek, steering Camron in the opposite direction. “You check over there. Be careful and watch the water!”
“Felrina?” Camron called as loudly as he dared, and Avalar heard the rip of fabric from his tight garments as he was forced to climb the rocks. She blinked, catching sight of a misty glimmer, a sliver of colorful light. She tracked it past the outlines of two stones, one enormous slab tilted against another.
“I have found Gaelin,” she said. Her hand touched his chest and felt the flutter of his heart. “He is alive!”
“This one is not,” said Camron sadly. “It is the young man who showed me the picture. I was distracted. I should have noticed he was upset. I used to know him, didn’t I? We were friends?”
Avalar fought back her tears. “Indeed, you were. He was a true and loyal companion, Camron.” Roughly she heaved at the boulder in her way to pull it down. Kneeling next to Gaelin, she lifted him into her lap. “Erebos is here!” she murmured, bending low. “Gaelin, you must rouse so that Holram may defend us.”
“This one, too,” said Camron out of the darkness. “I don’t . . . think he’s Terrek.”
Avalar bowed her head. “Keep searching!” she urged.
“I hardly got to talk to him. Terrek! Oh, Giant, what if he’s dead, too?”
“Hush now!” said Avalar. “Take a breath, Camron. We do not know who is—” She jumped as coughing filled the chamber.
“Felrina Vlyn,” Camron affirmed.
“I’m all right!” gasped Felrina. “I think I’m bleeding, though. My head hurts.” She paused. “Terrek?”
“Shh!” Avalar watched the crimson sparkle flick sideways as Felrina spoke. “We are seeking to find him, Felrina. It is my fear he is under these rocks. Now be still. Erebos is here!”
“He can hear your thoughts, you know,” said Felrina. “He’s linked to us now, enjoying our pain while we die.”
The ominous light bobbed along the far wall. “He is waiting,” Avalar observed. “I wonder what for?”
“We’re suffering; that’s why!” Felrina snapped. “We’re afraid, grieving, hurt, and he’s a sponge soaking it up, gaining even more strength. The moment we lose hope and stop caring, that’s when he’ll strike. I notice he has the Blazenstone. Direct contact, too.”
Gaelin moaned. Her gaze on Erebos, Avalar stroked the staff-wielder’s hair. “Gaelin, Terrek is in danger!” she said, scowling at the tremor in her voice. “The Destroyer is here holding the wizard’s stone. Mayhap he prepares another attack!”
Holram’s agitated voice spoke through Gaelin’s mouth. “I cannot move,” he said. “Erebos has drawn Gaelin’s consciousness into his stone. This shell is mindless now; it will not stir.”
Avalar, inhaling deeply, fought for calm. “Can you brighten your staff at least? So we may see if any of our friends yet live?”
She blinked when Mornius flashed through the gloom, its radiance spilling over a mound of shattered rock.
Now she beheld the crushed torso of Caven Roth, his surprise frozen forever on his lifeless face. Another companion lay pinned as well, with only his legs visible. Beyond the rubble, Erebos’s dragon crouched, its red eyes glowing, the Earth gem glinting from one raised claw. If Gaelin’s in that stone, she thought, how do we get him out?
Avalar staggered to her feet above the staff-wielder’s body, confronting the thing that had slain young Roth. Vyergin, too, she decided, glancing again at the visible remains of the second man.
“Avalar?” Camron asked.
“Keep looking,” she said. Erebos’s shadow loomed closer now, his glistening black wings unfurling.
Avalar shrugged on her pack and buckled her sword belt tight over her hips. Leaning down, she scooped Gaelin into her arms, curling his fingers around his staff. “Mornius,” she identified it in his ear. “No matter what happens, do not let it go.”
Camron stared. “What are you doing?”
Avalar held up her hand, stopping him as he began to follow. “No, Camron! Stay here and defend Felrina. Find Terrek and take care of the others while I lead this monster from our midst! I have the staff; he will pursue me if I go.”
She started climbing, her eyes on Erebos as the throb of her pulse quickened in her throat, the dragon’s horned head tracking her every move.
A breeze thrust at her from behind, compelling her to hurry. She focused straight ahead, ignoring the looming shadow as she scrambled up the rocks. With all her strength, Avalar struggled to climb, ascending to where she hoped the chamber’s exit would be.
Chapter 65
THROUG
H THE BLACKNESS, Gaelin perceived Holram’s imminent failure, the warder’s power draining from him, worn down by the heat in his bones. Erebos was stronger, a fully mature warder, while Holram was not. In moments, Gaelin’s flesh would fail.
He faltered and darkness seized him, tearing him from his body. His inner self flew across the room, past the giants oblivious to his plight, to slam into the Blazenstone, a void without direction, warmth, or sound.
Strands of crystal opened before him, red glassy threads beneath a mineral sky. Screaming mutely, Gaelin swung his mental fists at the crimson currents. Yet still the quartz’s inferno possessed him, its flames lashing at the giants’ reflections within its depths. His life force ebbed as he resisted, desperate to return to his body.
There was a lurch when Avalar started climbing, but it was Holram who rode Mornius’s erupting fire, who stretched arms of power across the darkness of the chamber—the warder seeking to follow him and retrieve his spirit. An explosion shook the Earth gem when Holram pierced it, and then vibrations of a roar, the silent clash of titans as Holram threw himself at his foe.
The two dragon shapes twined at the Blazenstone’s core, fangs like lightning stabbing at each other.
No! thought Gaelin, straining toward the limp figure in Avalar’s grasp. Holram hurled his power again, and still again, each effort jolting Gaelin as Holram strove to shake him loose.
“Stop it!”
From far away, Gaelin heard his voice, felt his cry from his human throat. His consciousness recoiled with a blast of wind, flinging him back into his body. He found his staff in his hand, with Avalar’s fingers around his own. At once he plunged his awareness into Mornius’s gem. With his mind, Gaelin caught at Holram in the Blazenstone, freeing the one who had battled to rescue him.
He moaned as Avalar pressed him close. Blinded by fury, Holram rampaged through his flesh, for at long last the warder had seen combat and wanted more.
Gaelin opened his eyes, wincing at the pressures within him. Avalar was carrying him, holding him with one arm while she hauled herself up the rocks. “I cannot stop!” she replied, straddling a massive boulder.
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