Peter moved his head again—and this time he focused on Dreyfus. Dreyfus frantically licked his face. Then he snuffled anxiously at Peter's hand—the one holding the Token of Power. Peter slowly became aware of what was happening. This is our first crucial battle for the Earthlight. Jamie and John's dragons are pursuing the two unknown Lords of Corruption. It's obviously my duty to deal with Sujad. I need to release my dragon; but have I got the strength?
Peter tried to lift his hand—but his arm fell back feebly to the ground.
"Go, dragon,” he whispered. “You're going to have to do it without my help. The Earthlight needs you. The Pendragon commands you: go defeat the enemy of the Pendragon and the Earthlight."
Peter's vision turned a misty red. Oh no! Surely I'm not going to faint! He blinked rapidly. A pair of bright jeweled eyes, colored and faceted like rubies, glowed at him. Scaly lids came down over the rubies and the red mist gathered into the body of a dragon. Its scales glistening with pearly luster, the dragon started to swell. Peter blinked at this eerie spectacle. The dragon responded by sending its pink, misty breath over him.
Peter felt his strength return to him in a rush. He scrambled to his feet, bringing Sujad's attention swinging back to him. The traitor raised his hand, intending to blast Peter with all the malice at his command. The dragon gave one tremendous thrash of its tail—and revealed itself in its true size. It gave a threatening roar at Sujad, who dropped his hand and backed into the cover of his black cloud. Peter also instinctively stepped back—for one flick of the dragon's tail could have flattened him.
Over the dragon's back Peter looked toward Sujad and the traitor's opponent—and he saw the amiable wizard in the tall black hat. His shoulders sagged with disappointment and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.
From the safety of his cloud, Sujad spoke. “I'm not afraid of the illusions of a wizard of the Lower Orders. You're not Merlin—Merlin's dead. I should know because I killed him. I know your kind are very good at illusions—and your dragons are only illusions so they can't harm me."
"Then watch this!"
Peter stared in surprise as the wizard leapt into the air and landed on the dragon's back. The wizard gave a bloodcurdling cry and directed the dragon to turn. He leaned down and grabbed Peter's hand. Peter felt himself lifted off the ground. It was neither the wizard's muscles nor his own efforts that lifted him, but a power that coursed down the wizard's arm and into Peter's body. Then he and the wizard were at eye level—and the dark eyes that blazed into his were not those of the wizard in the pointed black hat.
"Merlin!” Peter's voice echoed over the mountains in a great joyful shout.
Next moment he, too, was astride the dragon's back. Merlin turned his attention back to Sujad. To Sujad, Merlin and Peter appeared to grow and grow—until they towered above him. The dragon itself was much larger than the two standing guard on either side of Sujad's cloud. It glared down at Sujad from eyes like huge blazing rubies. Each facet sent out shafts of red light, momentarily paralyzing him. He read his doom in the fierce implacable glint of those eyes. His mind screamed “No! No!” at the creature. He was sure he had not spoken aloud but the dragon answered with a wordless affirmation: it nodded its head and grinned. The grin revealed its rows of sharp teeth. Then it opened its mouth wide to belch red flames in his direction.
With one almighty shriek of “Help, Master!” Sujad fled.
But no help came: Sujad's black cloud remained, wreathing itself tightly around him. But his master had apparently deserted him. The smaller dragons flew on either side of Merlin and Peter, providing an escort. Peter clung onto Merlin with all his might. He heard the wind of their going whistling in his ears. It tore at his hair and clothes. Mountain tops and glaciers raced by in a whirl of black and white, the bright sky providing the only touch of color. Peter recognized Mount Cook solely because of the horrendous black scar on its side.
Ahead of them they saw the other two Lords of Corruption with their pursuing dragons. The Lords’ shrieks reached them occasionally between the repeated cries for help from Sujad.
Merlin's strong voice cut through the traitor's hysterical screams. “Save your breath, Sujad. Your master is deaf to your cries. His attitude is that you've placed yourself in this predicament so you must get yourself out as best you can. You betrayed him as you betrayed me, so why should he help you?"
"Master, help me! I am still of use to you!” But again Sujad appeared to receive no reply.
By now they were fast catching up with the other Lords of Corruption. Peter could see the end of the range of mountains coming up. He became aware of sound behind him. It was like the roar of a crowd watching a big game. Peter turned his head ... and sky and mountains could no longer be seen. The air was filled with a mass of moving people—thousands upon thousands of them. They moved like wingless birds. They drew closer to the three dragons and the roar increased. White robes flapped over motionless legs. Was it the flapping robes that created the roar? Peter wondered. He was glad the Reborn weren't chasing him. If he'd been in Sujad's place, he would have been mortally afraid.
One of the Reborn stood out from the others. He was ahead of the rest—as a leader should be. Peter recognized Giddeon instantly. He raised his left hand in salute and saw Giddeon wave briefly in return.
It was the last thing he saw. Feeling himself slipping on the dragon's back, he clutched hard at the fabric of Merlin's back. Fear drummed in his head like a military tattoo. Sky and mountains disappeared. Merlin's back, with the paleness of Peter's hand clutching at the cloth in the center, revolved into a black and white yawning pit. Helplessly Peter tumbled into it, down and down in an apparently endless spiral.
"Merlin! Merlin!” he called as he spun.
He strove to discover if Merlin's back was still in front of him—but could resolve nothing in the confusion of the tornado that had seized him. If he was still clutching the cloth of Merlin's cloak, he was unaware of it.
The Evil One has answered Sujad's cries. With this dreadful thought came the realization that he was plunging to his death. The ground seemed a long time in coming. Just get it over! Peter's mind shouted. Then: No! No! There must be something I can do to stop myself. The Lady! The Lady!—No, the Lady is too weakened; her protection left me in the circle of blue fire. I have to rely on myself.
Peter fought the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm him—that was forcing him to accept the inevitability of being dashed to pieces against the unforgiving peaks of the Southern Alps. With all his might he concentrated on slowing down his descent. If, he reasoned, he could hit the mountains with a minimum of impact he would stand a good chance of not being killed.
Next moment—or so it seemed to Peter—the breath was knocked from his body as he hit the ground, which appeared to bounce beneath him. After a few seconds he recovered enough to move all his limbs in turn. Nothing was broken. I expect I'll have some lovely bruises tomorrow, he thought fleetingly. Then he realized, with shock that sent his heart beating somewhere in his throat, that it was not snow he was lying on but a hard mattress. He looked up and a rocky wall met his gaze. He appeared, unaccountably, to have landed somewhere underground. There was very little light and no window. A glance at where he lay confirmed he had fallen on a rickety old bed. It must be some type of dungeon, he thought dazedly, wondering where he had seen a similar sight.
As his eyes sought the only source of light—a miserable candle, nearly spent—the truth hit him. He struggled off the hard bed and looked for the door—and there beneath the door lay his Aunt Angela. She had struggled to a sitting position and was looking dazedly at him.
"Peter?” Her voice came out in a croak.
Peter rushed over to the door. “Are you all right, Aunt Angela?"
"I think so."
With Peter's help, she got to her feet. She was dusty and shaken but otherwise appeared to be unhurt. “How did you find me?” She frowned puzzledly at her surroundings. “What's been happening? Where am I
? How do we get out of here?"
As Peter put an arm around her shoulders, he felt her begin to tremble. “Are you sure you're all right?"
She smiled wanly and frowned again. “Yes. Just a little puzzled. I don't remember how I got here."
"You were kidnapped. Never mind that now; it's a long story,” he added as Aunt Angela raised her eyebrows in astonishment.
Peter turned his attention back to the bed and looked at the ceiling, expecting to find a hole. But the rock above the bed was as solid as the walls. How am I to tell her I fell off the back of a dragon and landed on her bed without making a hole in the ceiling of her prison? I can hardly expect her to believe a story like that.
He helped his aunt over to the bed and sat her down. With his back to her, he pulled the Token of Power from underneath his shirt and looked at it. Wherever the dragon that he and Merlin had ridden might be, the image on his token was still there.
"Dragon, you helped me of your own free will before; in the name of the Pendragon help me again,” he whispered.
A thrill of shock went through him as the dragon answered him, instantly, in mind speech, “I do as the Pendragon commands, but I refuse to bear the woman."
Peter replied in like manner, with sharp annoyance, “She's my aunt; and I can't leave her here."
"No,” the dragon conceded. Then, reluctantly, after a short pause, “Very well, I come."
A great rush of wings as of a flock of silent birds filled the dungeon—and the dragon stood before Peter. His head was bent and his tail curled sideways to fit himself into the confined space of the cell. With as much dignity as he could muster, he folded his wings. He turned his head sharply in Aunt Angela's direction. Her eyes stared up at him over the hands raised to her mouth, and the terror in them was almost tangible. Gently the dragon breathed its luminescent breath over her. Giving a small moan, she slumped.
Peter barely caught her as she fell. With the dragon's bulk in the way there was little room for movement.
"There was no need to frighten her,” he said irritably, trying to bring her round with gentle slaps on the face.
"I didn't intend to. But she must remember nothing."
"There are other ways of doing that. Now you've made it impossible for me to do anything with her."
"She'll come round.” As the dragon spoke, Aunt Angela opened her eyes. “She'll do whatever she's told—but until she's released from the spell, she'll be a zombie. Place your hands on my side."
Both Peter and Aunt Angela did as the dragon instructed—and next moment they were looking down on the dungeon from somewhere near the roof. Peter rode in front and his aunt clung on behind. Suddenly they were out of the dungeon with mountains whizzing below them. Peter also saw waterfalls and forests and seconds later recognized the terrain spread out below them.
"The City of Light!"
"Yes,” said the dragon. “I'll leave you there—you'll be safe until we return. But your aunt must go home. You'll find her safe and unharmed when you arrive."
The dragon set Peter down in the forest park outside the city. Peter recognized the entry to the grotto that he had created with his thoughts—the grotto that had so disappointed the three boys. This time he was on his own.
He watched the dragon disappear with slight resentment in his heart: if he had not been obliged to rescue his aunt he might have been able to stay with the Earthlight's pursuit of the Lords of Corruption. Feeling decidedly dejected and with a strong sense of anticlimax, he wandered aimlessly into the short tunnel leading to the grotto.
His thoughts dwelt on Dreyfus and the twins. He had known Jamie and John for such a short time—and yet he felt as anxious about them as he felt for his beloved dog. He and Merlin had left all three on the mountainside without so much as a thought, he told himself remorsefully. Where were they? Were they safe?
When he reached the grotto Peter stood at the edge of the pool, looking around critically. The first thing he saw was the place where the statue had stood in the first grotto, where there had been nothing before. His heart jumped, for surely there was something white lying on the ground under a canopy of maidenhair fern fronds.
Heart thumping, Peter searched among the overhanging plants for a boat—and to his joy there was one like that in the first grotto. When he climbed into it, the boat moved off of its own accord. It went straight over to the other side of the pool.
Yes, Peter thought joyfully, it is a plinth. He gazed longingly at the bare white tablet—but nothing happened. Then he remembered that he still had the face from the original statue in his pack. Rocking the boat with the force of his movements, he rummaged in his ruined backpack and brought out the face. Strangely, it was still intact. Sadly, feeling like someone placing flowers on a grave, he placed the face on the plinth....
...and the plinth disappeared. In its place stood the statue as he had last seen it. From the statue's hand water poured onto Peter's head. At the same time he heard the Lady's eerie music. He pushed the boat away from the fountain and looked eagerly around. The music instantly stopped. He climbed onto the bank and called to her in mind speech. Her voice came softly back to him, faint and far away.
"We have chased the Lords of Corruption to the ends of the universe. Unfortunately, we couldn't recover the Obsidian Orb. We had to destroy it. Farewell, Peter—farewell."
"Shall I see you again?” Peter cried voicelessly, staring hard at the sightless eyes of the statue as though willing it to come alive.
"Undoubtedly, in the not-too-distant future. The war is over only when the Enemy is destroyed."
He heard a few bars of her music again—and found himself looking with blurred vision into eyes that for a few moments were alive.
Then he was alone.
Epilogue
The Southlight
IT WAS evening. Peter and Merlin had just finished dining at the large farmhouse behind them. Aunt Angela, having apparently forgotten everything, had flown down to join them. They had left her chatting with their hosts while they took a stroll over the fields with Dreyfus to watch the sun setting. Ahead of them stretched the long line of the Southern Alps, ablaze in the glory of the Westlight.
Peter squinted wistfully at the sun, partially hidden behind the mountains. Was it only twenty-four hours since that same Westlight had poured its power into him? It seemed so long ago. He stopped walking and turned to face the man at his side. Now was as good a time as any to ask the questions foremost in his mind.
"Why did you have to destroy the Obsidian Orb?"
Merlin—Peter was having trouble thinking of him in the persona of Uncle Paul—also halted and turned to look thoughtfully at his nephew. He sighed regretfully.
"With the knowledge and power obtained from the Book of Obsidian Sujad had truly made himself Lord of Obsidian. Had the Lady been in possession of her full powers we might have wrested the Obsidian Orb from him. As that wasn't possible we used the spell of destruction."
"Can we—you—make another one, or won't we need it again? Have—have we beaten the Evil One and his Lords of Corruption once and for all?"
Merlin turned to gaze into the southern sky. His eyes focused as though seeing something extremely far away.
"I don't have to make another one, strictly speaking. When the orb shattered and we caught Sujad unawares, we were ready for the breaking up. We managed to gather every fragment and we'll be able to remake the orb from them should the need arise. As for whether the Evil One has been vanquished—well, we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, enjoy your Christmas."
"It's a shame Jamie and John couldn't join us."
"We could hardly take them from their family when they've only just returned. They stuck to the truth about being kidnapped but haven't given away any details. The whole thing will remain one of those unsolved mysteries on police files. Since the boys came to no harm, the file will be closed."
"One policeman knows the truth,” Peter said softly.
Merlin gave a brief
, dry chuckle but otherwise made no answer.
"There are some things I don't understand,” Peter ventured.
"Ask away,” Merlin said generously with a wide sweep of his arm.
"How did you avoid being killed?"
A shadow of distress passed over the wizard's face. He fixed his gaze on the setting sun and Peter wished he had kept quiet.
"Ah! ... Well, normally I should have been able to save myself. However, I had to use what time I had to protect you three boys and the dog.” He gave Dreyfus's head a brief pat and the dog nuzzled his hand. “It was the Lady who saved me. It was her idea that we should convince the Enemy of my death, and it distressed her greatly to see your grief. Saving me drained a lot of her powers and without our guidance for your quest the Enemy was able to penetrate the City of the Reborn and discover the grotto's secret and the purpose of the Reborn. Both myself and the Lady wanted to conserve what power we had left. The Lady used the rest of hers to spirit away the bodies of the Reborn, leaving mere representations behind. As Sujad rightly told you, there isn't any spell that can bring crushed and broken bodies back to life. No one was crushed when the Enemy devastated the city, because the Lady had more foresight than I did. While she was unable to stop the Enemy destroying the city—a task too great for her already diminished powers—she knew he was going to do it and she had enough power to put a spell on the inhabitants of the city. After she saved me from the avalanche, I helped her with the readying of the Reborn for their role in the battle against the Evil One.” He gave Peter a quick look before returning his eyes to the Westlight. “The Lady has the Book of Obsidian safely hidden. If it's needed again, we know where to find it."
They remained in companionable silence until all the light had gone then returned to the farmhouse, where Aunt Angela bundled Peter off to bed. He made no protest, discovering suddenly how tired he was. The thrill of Christmas had been pushed into the background of his consciousness because of all the exciting things that had filled his life over the past few days. A good night's sleep, he reckoned, would put things back into normal perspective.
The Obsidian Quest [Search for Earthlight Trilogy Book 1] Page 20