“Do we fly?” asked Rin.
“I do not want to risk the thraik. We must make our way along the ground. It is not that far.”
“The map shows what roads are here,” Teryn said, “but how will we know which way to turn?”
“Need you ask?” Edynn said, pointing off toward the north. Lightning exploded in the distance. No rain fell on them, but the sky was gray only a few miles to the east.
“The Madcloud,” Tildi said, shivering. Knowing the destruction it could wreak, she feared to go where it was.
“Indeed,” Edynn said. “And it isn’t moving. It is attracted only to strong magic, and there is none stronger than the book. He is there.”
Tildi breathed deeply, enjoying the essence that filled the air around her. “So is the book.”
“T
here, girl, almost there. Almost there.” Magpie patted Tessera’s neck. Both of them were covered with sweat. His body was battered and exhausted, and he hadn’t even been the one doing all the running. He felt terrible for his poor mare. She had galloped full-out for more than three days, never complaining. She was so high of heart that she had willingly run herself into exhaustion and started out fresh the next day, as if she knew how vital the mission was that he was upon.
No more spumes of stone dust led him, but he did not need them to guide him. He knew where he was going now. The Maker must be in the ancient Oron Castle. It had been built in the earliest days of the kingdom. Some said that a band of powerful wizards had created it for the first kings, and some had lived there for a while. While none were
mentioned in the legends by name, Magpie was certain that it must have been the Shining Ones.
Wouldn’t it make sense that he’s gone to ground here? It hadn’t been occupied by anything except bats and spiders for centuries. If Magpie was a ten-thousand-year-old wizard, he would find it the perfect place to set up a new kingdom. But why now? Why now?
Lightning lanced through the sky ahead. The clouds didn’t look natural. They were slashed with strange colors and hovering in one place, instead of flowing along. It must be another one of the Shining One’s displays of power. Magpie tied his hood tightly around his chin as Tessera carried him ahead into the light rain. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there, but he must do something!
The horror behind him also set spurs to his back. The devastation was startling and completely unexpected. Land had been torn away like pieces ripped out of a loaf of bread. Villages and towns, he feared to think how many, had been wiped out of existence. The people, terrified and uncomprehending, streamed past him with their few goods on their backs, heading south toward the capital to ask for the king’s help, but what could Soliandur do against one of the Makers?
The most terrifying thing that he had seen was when the Oros stopped flowing. He had seen it happen himself late the previous day as he rode through a village on the banks. The water, normally several feet deep, dropped lower and lower, until the riverbed was empty. People in the village ran into the sucking mud, chasing the receding water southward, begging for it to come back. They had been insane, but he would have been insane, too, if he had just seen his village’s lifeblood ebb away. Fish flopped helplessly, boats and ships heeling over in the mud. What magic had the thief wrought to divert an entire river? And why had he chosen to experiment upon poor Orontae? Had it not had a difficult enough time in recent years? And where had the water gone?
He pulled up shortly to the answer to his last question as he crossed over the pass in between the Old Man’s Shoulders. The valley ahead of him had been destroyed, dug out to the very roots of the mountains. He could see the two halves of the Oros on either side of the chasm. A new lake was forming. He was relieved that the Shining One had not stopped the river altogether. That problem would solve itself as soon as the water level rose to the top of the gap. The river road was gone, but that was a minor consideration. Magpie and his brothers had ridden that way in past years and knew all the passes. He turned Tessera away from the
stinking, roaring gap, and headed toward a side road, more used by deer and wolf than human beings.
A thraik screamed overhead. Small wonder, for strong magic was afoot. It paid him no attention, for which he was grateful, and vanished into the air like a candle flame being snuffed out. He hoped that he could catch up with Edynn and the others. He would warn them … of what could he warn them that they would not have observed already? He hoped he was not too late. He hated to think of what could have happened to poor little Tildi.
Three days’ ride had given him plenty of time to think about the folly of his action. He was no magician, but if one more sword or set of wits could help Edynn to defeat the enemy and take back the precious book, then he would give his all.
He heard the sound of hoofbeats, and pulled Tessera back behind a tree as wide as she was long. It sounded like women’s voices! He urged her forward onto the path and hailed them.
Before he knew it, he was on his back with a soldier in full armor sitting on his chest, and another pointing a spear at his throat. Captain Teryn, her face sunburned and windburned, ripped back his hood. Rain poured onto his face. He sputtered.
“Prince Eremilandur, what do you here?” Edynn asked, from under her white hood. She looked amused. Probably she had had some mystical signal he was here, one she hadn’t bothered to share with the Rabantavian guards.
“Prince?” Tildi asked, her little face puzzled. “I thought he was a troubadour.”
“A useful disguise,” Edynn said. “He has been traveling the countryside on behalf of Olen and the rest of us of the council. I believe he even followed
you
once, to Olen’s very door, but he is a prince of this land we are currently traversing. Get up, please.”
“Thank Mother and Father you’re safe,” he croaked. The wizardess signed to the captain, who got off him and helped him to his feet with one strong pull. “I rode to warn you.” He brushed water off the front and back of his cloak.
“Of what, young man?” She beckoned him forward. The male guard had hold of Tessera’s bridle.
“The mountains have been moving,” Magpie blurted out. “I could see them all the way from the temple, two hundred miles from here. I sent a message to Olen, but who knows how long it will take before someone
comes.” His sense of humor stuck a finger in his ribs and made him confess to the ridiculous. “I galloped here in hopes of intercepting you before you went looking for some ancient, all-powerful wizard reclaiming his own. I believe I know where he is.”
“And where is that?” Serafina asked. She, too, looked refined down to the essence within her, brave, determined, but still of a sharp, impatient nature. The journey must have been hard. He was most shocked by the changes in little Tildi. She was preoccupied, not sunny and optimistic as she had been in Silvertree. Well, neither would he be, if truth were told, with a multicolor rainstorm pouring down on him and the greatest enemy in the world behind the castle doors.
“Oron Castle. It’s a ruin, but a big one. A man could live there almost comfortably, even in weather like this.”
“So we had already surmised,” Edynn said. “There’s little other shelter in this area. We have been making our way there since this morning. The roads are difficult.”
“I can guide you through here. I have been there many times. I want to help. You would be horrified by what he has been doing to the land. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people have disappeared. I fear they are all dead.” In as few words as possible, he described the catastrophic destruction that he had left behind him. Tildi looked sick.
“How could the one who went to the trouble to describe each of the forests and valleys in such loving detail crush them out of existence so casually?” she asked.
“He is destroying things at random,” Edynn said, with a grim face. “He must have gone insane. Thank you for offering your service, highness. We will be glad of your help, though I do not know what any of us can do now. We must try.”
Magpie hoped that the Shining One’s whims would be stayed until after they had reached the castle. The rains made it difficult to see far ahead, but he was on his own ground. The top of the castle was already coming into view, the flagpole on the top of the derelict tower at the fore, acting as a guide to him. Something about the tower was different, though it was hard to tell in the driving rain. Magpie took a turning that led to a side path, which eventually let out into the yard for what in ancient days he thought were the kitchens. It wound upward and upward, until they were above the level of the trees. He could see not only the new lake into which the Oros was flowing, but some of the damage beyond the Old Man’s Shoulders.
“Look!” he shouted through the rain. The centaur carrying Tildi twisted her lithe body around, and let out an audible gasp. Edynn and Serafina looked aghast. At this height the ruin of the valley was entirely visible, even through the rain. Mountains had been sundered, leaving a raw wound of exposed layers of rock. Smoke rose from the forests that had fallen. Birds of prey circled and called, looking for any dead that lay hidden in the wreckage of Mother Nature’s beauty. They turned away. Magpie thought he could see tears on their faces. He led them upward toward the castle.
The side path was still largely intact, though sharp-bladed yellow grass grew up through the gigantic flagstones in the wide, walled pathway. He changed direction frequently, avoiding holes and stones too tilted for safe passage. Rin stayed at his side. The others followed close behind him.
“Remember,” Edynn said, holding her staff aloft, “we are vulnerable now, but we are even more vulnerable when the runes appear. He must know we are coming. Take care. I expect a first strike at any moment.”
N
emeth sat in his throne with the book before him, surveying the rune that indicated the castle itself. He had been preparing to choose his next target of destruction, until he felt that
she
had arrived. He was frightened. The pursuers had defeated every one of his efforts to deter or dispose of them. They had won through, and now they were here, outside, preparing to enter. He studied the runes and let them guide his intuition.
At last the fog that had hidden the company of pursuers from view lifted. There, in his mind’s eye, was his threat! Not the tall wizardess with white hair, who looked familiar to him, nor the strong warrior in the armor of Orontae’s enemy, Rabantae. No, it was the little creature in the woolen cloak, sitting like a flea on the back of the long-haired centaur: a female smallfolk. She was the bearer of a fragment? How could she be?
It should have burned her to her bones. Yet his sight never lied. She was the one to whom he was tied. She wanted the book. He knew in the depths of his soul that she had come to take it away from him. His nerves were already sorely tried by the Madcloud, hovering overhead like an uneasy conscience. He had tried several times to destroy it, but the rune eluded his efforts. Some wizard in past times had so altered it that no matter what he did to it, it only seemed to increase its power. He was forced to leave it alone, though it shook the castle towers with its thunder and threatened to drown him in an endless deluge. The coming of an intruder with as great a claim to the book as his upset him. Should he flee?
No,
he thought, straightening his back in the high white throne,
this is my kingdom now
. Every rock, every tree answered to his call. They would come to his aid if he chose. He needed guardians of his own. They must not be human at all; his army of trees had failed miserably, and he deplored the death of innocent creatures. They must not have any vital organs to thrust a sword into, or to feel mercy toward an opponent. Only magic would suffice, unemotional and absolutely obedient to his will. He unrolled the book slightly to find the nearest source of materials. There was his serried force, lying in graduated ranks. They would surprise the intruders. He began changing the rune to suit his purpose. The harsh sound that erupted from the level below was loud enough that he could hear it in the throne room.
“
W
hat was that?” Rin demanded, as they bounded from stone to stone in the last loop of the switchbacks beneath the castle walls.
“A grinding noise,” Magpie said. “I don’t know what is causing it. The drawbridge engine fell apart centuries ago.”
“It might be back together by now,” Lakanta said, “seeing as he has repaired nearly everything else.”
“I feel magic stirring,” Edynn said, holding up a hand for silence. She and Serafina readied their staffs. Teryn and Morag urged their horses to the head of the party, swords at the ready. Tildi drew her knife, but she stayed close against Rin’s back. Lakanta had her club, but she had also gathered a large sack of stones.
Teryn called for the others to halt as the road widened out. She rode ahead, leaving Morag to guard the company behind the last stretch of wall, then spurred back almost at once. Silently, she beckoned to them,
patting the air so that they understood they should make their way slowly. Rin nodded. They crept ahead, emerging into the castle’s side yard.
The rain was so heavy Tildi felt as if she would drown when she gazed upward, but she couldn’t stop looking. The first things she noticed were the runes. The book was so near that everything was illuminated with its own name, blazing in brilliant gold. She looked down. She wore hers, too, over her heart like a badge. She had not seen it so since she was a small girl, when the leaf first came into the Summerbee household. At the time she had accepted its appearance without question, as all small children do to strange things that come without explanation, and thought it was pretty. Now she thought it sinister. Anyone, at that moment, could change or kill her, and she could do little to stop them except retaliate in kind if she was faster. The thought made her shiver.
Forcing herself to think beyond her fears, she could not help but admire the castle itself. It was beautiful, all made of smooth white stone, and huge, bigger than many of the towns through which they had passed, a city in itself. Outbuildings, like those around Silvertree, huddled within the high, thick walls, servants ready to respond to the will of their master, the great keep. It reached straight up over their heads, a massive rectangle ending in four turrets from which strange banners of white and gold flew. In the rain she could not see their device. One fork of lightning after another illuminated the castle walls in a series of bright bursts.
“How different it is,” Magpie breathed, as each stroke revealed more beauties. Mosaics, their colors bright and alive, offered elegant designs that sprawled and burgeoned around each angle and each window frame. Statues of armed warriors loomed from recesses, sending a warning to any would-be invader to stay away. He felt their power. They were so well made that he could pick out likenesses in the faces to members of his family and paintings in the royal gallery. “It never looked like this. It was a shell. This is a work of art.”
“This is how it was in its glory days,” Edynn said. “I have seen the illustrations in ancient books. Oron Castle was the wonder of the world. Beings of all races worked upon its construction and ornamentation. Our thief has reconstructed it exactly.”
The Madcloud did not seem to like people ignoring it. A stripe of blue lightning blasted out of the sky with a deafening boom of thunder, and knocked one of the banners off the tower, along with the stone pillar on
which it had been mounted. It plummeted to earth behind the keep. The crash of its landing made the party jump.
“Where is he, Tildi?”
Wordlessly, the smallfolk girl pointed a finger at the tall tower. She could feel the other waiting for her there, with the book. She wanted it more than anything in her life. It would not matter to her if the other killed her, as long as she could touch it before she died.
“Good girl,” Edynn said. She put a hand on Tildi’s head, and the longing passed. Tildi relaxed, and realized she was miserably wet. “Where are the stairs?”
“This way,” Magpie said. They left their horses in the yard, and followed the young man. He led them up onto a broad courtyard lined with tubs of growing vegetables. Huge, blocky stairs of white granite led upward around the outside of the square tower to the next courtyard. Teryn and Morag signed to the others to keep well back, and began to climb toward the next level.
The moment they put their feet on the steps, the lowest stair rolled upright, knocking the two guards flying. Tildi screamed. She saw the stones’ runes changing as they rose up on end and began to take on definition. Legs, arms, and a blocky torso with a terrible, square head with twin gouges for eyes and a slit below for a mouth.
The slit opened wide, and emitted a terrifying bellow.
Teryn did not hesitate at all to take on the new enemy. She rolled up onto her feet and charged at the giant, sword raised. She struck it across the midsection. The metal clashing emitted sparks, but left no mark at all. Teryn gawked, but swung around in a circle and aimed another sweeping blow at its knees. It raised one bricklike arm and smashed at her. Teryn raised her shield just in time. It spread out the force of the blow, but Teryn staggered backwards from the force. Morag leaped and thrust with his polearm at the gap between the creature’s body and head. He managed to drive the thin blade into the gap, and levered downward. The head popped off, and the creature stopped moving.
“That did it!” he shouted. He leaned down to help Teryn to her feet.
Behind them, the next highest step was turning into two stone monsters, and the next one, three. Magpie cried out a warning to Teryn. The guards turned at bay. Magpie plunged in, sword raised, and just managed to parry one of the new creatures from striking Teryn on the head. It missed, and roared its frustration. The guards joined him in trying to knock its head off. Rin galloped forward to help. Her chosen weapon,
he whip, was less than useless against stone, but she turned and kicked at the nearest monster with her rear hooves. She managed to dislodge the right arm of one, and knock the leg out from under another. The disabled stone beasts still crawled after the moving prey, but Lakanta plunged in, battering at the fallen ones with her club. The company made progress in decimating the ranks, but more and more came on.
“This is more our task, daughter,” Edynn said. She and Serafina pointed their staffs at the stone giants. The gems at the top glowed. Spheres of red and white fire hurtled toward the creatures. Where they struck, the granite slagged and melted. Edynn concentrated her spells on the legs, working to immobilize the giants.
Tildi stared dumbly. She was afraid to get anywhere near the creatures. Their fists were larger than her whole body. She stared at the runes aglow against the white of their square bodies. How had he altered them into moving beings? How did he know what to do? Could she turn them back into steps? She had only seen Olen perform an alteration of a rune once, when he changed the candle and made it explode. Transformation lessons were not going to be until later in the year.
But she knew what the rune for a stone looked like. Like hers, their runes were unlocked. She saw the parts that were different from the word for stone. She reached out as if she could touch the rune of the nearest giant, who was fighting with the minstrel-prince.
Stone,
she thought, stripping away the other characteristics with her fingers. They resisted, as if she was breaking candles apart.
Stone only!
To her astonishment, the creature froze to a halt, its huge fist raised in midair. It lost definition, its features disappearing into the bulk of stone. Magpie gawked at it for a moment, then looked around and saw the smallfolk girl with her hands outstretched.
“Whatever you did, Tildi, keep doing it!” Another stone giant threatened him. He leaped out of its way as it struck the ground with its huge arms. The floor shook.
Could she do it again? She must. More giants rolled down from what had been the staircase, landing on the floor with a tremendous
boom!
The defenders did their best to keep away from the newcomers, who already outnumbered them two to one. The wizards could not keep up. Every time Serafina or Edynn made one stop moving, three more came behind it.
“Behind you, Serafina!” Rin reared up and kicked at the giant with her forelegs. It staggered backward half a pace, then strode up and
knocked the centaur flying with a single backhand blow. Rin flew across the floor in a tangle of limbs and long hair. Serafina spun and pointed her staff at the beast. Its face slagged, but it kept moving toward her. Tildi concentrated on the creature that had hurt her friend, hoping she could repeat the success of her first try. Its rune felt tangible to her. She began to break pieces off it. The monster seemed to sense the attack and turned toward her, arm raised to strike. It froze. Tildi stared. It had worked!
The lightning struck down at them, striking in between defender and foe alike. Tildi tried to concentrate on the next beast, but the giants had noticed her now, and turned to move toward her. Instead of mere holes in their faces, she thought she saw strange, bulgy blue eyes gazing at her. They terrified her so much she lost all thought of reshaping them. She turned to run away. More of the giants were behind her, reaching for her, closing off her escape. Tildi dodged to the right and left, looking for a way out of the shrinking circle of stone. One giant raised its arm.
Edynn’s cold fire melted the arm before the blow fell. Tildi took the opportunity offered, and ducked behind it while it tried to turn its inflexible body to use its good arm instead. One of its fellows slammed it in mistake. She gasped, feeling stone chips raining down on her. She hurried to get near one of the wizards. She could not be lucky like that always. They must hit her sometime, and it would take only one blow to kill.
Edynn beckoned to her. She was fending off four giants by herself, but as Tildi neared she started to form a wall of wards with one hand. “You at least must survive. Get behind this shield.”
“I can help,” Tildi said, though her voice was choked with fear. Edynn shook her head.
“We are too outnumbered. Keep the wards intact. Save yourself. Only you can rescue the book.” She pushed Tildi into the shining silver cage and went back to her work. The giants noticed the smallfolk girl, and lumbered over. They raised their enormous hands over their heads and brought them down in a tremendous blow upon the top of the little shelter. The entire room shook. Tildi cowered, shielding her head, fearing that any moment they would crush her. Edynn did not let her down: the magic that protected her was more powerful than the one that gave life to the giants. Pieces broke off their arms, but they kept trying to break through. She huddled in a ball on the ground, too frightened to concentrate on changing their runes.
“Here! This way! Hurry!”
Tildi looked up at the sound of strange voices. From around the corner of the building, a man in blue-and-white livery jumped up on top of the wall. He surveyed the site, and beckoned to whoever was following him. A host of men and women in the same garb came running, wielding swords and war hammers.