Ширли Мерфи - The Castle Оf Hape. Caves Оf Fire Аnd Ice. The Joining Оf Тhe Stone

“Don’t, Skeelie! It’s only frightened, don’t . . .” The big mount snorted and reared, pulling Telien off her feet. Skeelie sensed a movement behind her and spun, saw Torc leap for a man who was nearly on top of them, his sword glinting.

The image, sister! The image! For the image-wolves had wavered again; Skeelie sent the vision stronger until wolves leaped once more, keening among the panicked raiders. In the confusion their horse turned and ran, the bit hard in his mouth so Telien was dragged at the end of the reins, her heels digging into the soft earth, then was forced to let him go. NilokEm’s soldiers and the image-wolves churned in a melee of confusion among ancient trees gnarled and thick beneath a high noon sun, all semblance of a young wood vanished into a time long dead.

And something else was happening in the wood. At the moment that the slim trees turned ancient, and the sun brightened, other forces were there; dark powers rising at cross-purposes to NilokEm’s powers; and other powers, powers of light. Forces clashed and rose, clashed anew.

*

Hermeth’s troops, come into the wood slowly and quietly and wanting rest, were startled into action suddenly, drew weapons, and spun their horses to face the circle of rabble made suddenly visible, penning them in; rabble that had slipped under cover of mind-fogging into a tight circle around them. Hermeth’s men lashed into them and all the violence of Urdd broke loose as, at the same instant, the woods shivered with overlapping images, warping, then the ancient trees came steady again; and another band of soldiers was there among them battling wolves in a confusion even Ram could not sort out. The rabble he and Hermeth had pursued was all around them, but facing strange soldiers now and strange wolves all come out of nowhere, in a senseless tangle. Come out of Time? Or were those other wolves image-wrought? And what were these troops? He slashed at a soldier, fought fiercely but abstractly, trying to make sense of the confusion.

NilokEm’s soldiers struck from the saddle at wolves and struck only air. They battled soldiers come out of nowhere, powers come out of nowhere. The dark Seer swore at their sudden fear, at powers gone awry. He brought his own powers down hard and felt them twisted and muted, fought his rearing horse with cruel fury, slashed at a Herebian bearing down on him. Then suddenly he saw ahead of him a flash of pale hair caught in sunlight, and he forgot wolves, forgot the confusion of warriors come out of nowhere, forced bloody spurs into his horse, and rode after Telien with sword drawn. His men, seeing him turn tail, facing wolves they could not kill, facing too many soldiers, jerked their horses and bolted in cold fear—but now again they met wolves, and these animals pulled men from the saddle and took horses down at full run. There was no escape, there was nothing to do but fight.

NilokEm bore down on Telien, then pulled his horse up suddenly as the cold presence of other Seers exploded in his mind; dark Seers behind him. How could that be? Even his hatred of Telien could not hold him. He spun his horse, searching for the rabble Seers among the troops that battled his men, puzzled and furious. There were no other dark Seers, not in all of Ere, not even such rabble as these. He was the last with such power, until Dal grew to an age to master such skills. But there were dark Seers here! Where had such Seers come from? And did he sense Seers of light? He sat his fidgeting horse still as stone, reaching out. And there was something else besides, something even more disturbing—or perhaps opportune. Could he be sensing clearly?

Yes, yes. There was a runestone here, he thought with rising excitement. One of those Seers carried a runestone, he could feel the power of it. His eyes grew dark and slitted with greed as he surveyed the raging battle, sorting, feeling out to find the bearer of that stone.

He did not search out for long, for snarling wolves surrounded him, singled him out, their eyes filling him with terror. A huge, dark dog wolf leaped for his leg as his horse reared, and another went for its throat. He lashed at them from the saddle, flailed with his sword, but they were too quick; his stricken horse twisted and fell, its throat gushing blood. He leaped free, faced a dozen wolves as the battle churned around him. He brought the power of the stone against them, drove them back snarling with pain. But again they advanced, strong-willed against the stone’s power, heads lowered. He sought the stone’s forces stronger—but he felt nothing suddenly. Nothing. He stared down at the stone, stricken. It lay lifeless and dull in his hand. The wolves paused, watching him, anticipating something. He felt the stone’s absence of power with terror. What he felt happening was impossible, incredible.

Was that other stone, carried by one of those Seers, stealing the power from this stone? How could such a thing be?

The wolves stood appraising him, their eyes slitted in eager anticipation that chilled him to the bone. Then suddenly the stone flared burning in his hand so he screamed and dropped it, saw the jade pulsing like fire at his feet.

At the same instant the stone in Ram’s hand turned to flame, seared him. He held it, gritting his teeth, did not know what was happening, would not let the stone go. He blew, spat on it. At last it cooled, lay green again in his painfully burned palm. He was aware suddenly of the dark Seer facing him across the battlefield, was locked suddenly as if with bands of steel to that Seer. They stood, Ramad and NilokEm, facing across the melee of battle, two Seers come together, locked together in painful contest for possession of one shard of the runestone of Eresu that lay, in that instant, split in its nature: one stone, handed down from NilokEm to Dal, to the dark twins, taken in battle by Macmen, given to Hermeth, and given then to Ram. It could not exist for long divided. It must draw into itself, become one, and the stronger Seer would draw the stone’s strength to himself. Their wills dwarfed the battle that raged as Hermeth’s men fought Pellians out of Time and Pellians contemporary.

Sweat streaked Ram’s forehead as he forced his power against NilokEm. The dark Seer went ashen, then rallied, began to draw the force of the stone in a surge of desperation. It was then Ram saw Telien leaning half-conscious against a dying horse; knew she had been struck as soldiers battled around her; knew in an instant of clarity what NilokEm was to Telien, what NilokEm had made of her life, saw her enslavement, the beatings, NilokEm’s cruel lusting way with her, the baby born and taken from her; saw it all, and in his rage forgot the battle for the runestone and wanted only to kill NilokEm, was across the battlefield grabbing the dark Seer, striking and pounding him, dodging NilokEm’s blows, attacking him with insane fury. The man fell heavy and flailing against him. Ram held him and hit him again and again, then left him unconscious amidst the battle. The stone turned to but a faded rock in NilokEm’s hand, a skeleton of the runestone it had been.

Ram shouldered aside soldiers, struck out in fury to reach Telien. Stood looking down at her, shaken at the sight of her. She was so pale, so thin. He lifted her, held her, tried in desperation to revive her. At last he sought a sheltered place between trees where they were somewhat protected from battle, held her and whispered to her until finally she opened her eyes. He could feel her sick confusion, feel the pain of the wound across her forehead, as he examined it. She watched him, pale and uncertain. There was blood clotting, and her forehead was swollen and bruised. He stood holding her, stricken, aware of nothing else, unaware of the shadow moving toward them from deeper in the wood. He was desperate in his fear for her, tried to sense the damage the wound had done, felt her tears on his cheek. He knew her shame at having lain with NilokEm, her pain. He knew her mourning for her lost child. He felt her shame and yet her surging joy in him, her very soul a part of his.