Shadows on the Stars (5 page)

A sudden change in the light caught his attention. As he crawled over to the edge of the mossy shelter and looked outside, the stars swelled brighter. Dawn already! The snow-ribbed slope of Hallia’s Peak turned silver, then white, in the strengthening glow from above. As always, with the brighter light of day, the sky’s constellations became harder to see. Within seconds, he couldn’t even see individual stars—just blue sky, utterly clear.

So different from his own thoughts. He scowled, stuffing the magical slab of wood back into his pack. Morning had arrived—and although he was now fairly sure what he had to do, he had no idea at all how to do it. Or how to explain it to Elli. For while she probably hated him now—and would keep right on hating him until he told her about her harp—she surely wouldn’t want him to die. And with this new plan of his, death was more than likely.

Turning back to the summit, he watched her sitting up on the Stargazing Stone. She stretched out her legs on the snowless surface, like a waking mountain lion, then raised both arms high above her head. All of a sudden, as if she felt Tamwyn’s gaze, she stopped stretching and turned around. The look she gave him was colder than last night’s icy wind.

Beside the Stone, a small round figure sat up in the snow. It was Nuic, Elli’s ever faithful (and ever sassy) maryth. His little body swirled with streaks of dark red, which told Tamwyn that the pinnacle sprite had also seen the vision last night. Erasing any doubt, Nuic put his tiny hands against his sides and said dryly, “Hmmmpff. Nothing like seeing the world being destroyed by an immortal monster to ensure a good night’s sleep.”

“I saw it, too,” declared someone’s deep voice from across the slope. It was Scree in his human form, bare-chested despite the chili mountain air, walking toward them. “But I don’t believe a bit of it.”

“Really?” demanded Elli. “Why do you say that?”

“I just don’t, that’s all.” He glanced over his shoulder at the slender elf maiden who was striding gracefully across the snow behind him. “Visions like that are as unreliable as elvish folktales.”

Over by the mossy overhang, Tamwyn winced. He could tell that, as graceful as Scree could be in flight, he had landed with a crash when it came to Brionna. Just as Tamwyn himself had done with Elli.

Indeed, Brionna’s green eyes flashed angrily. But she kept her voice calm as she turned to Elli. “What he’s really saying is that he didn’t
like
what he saw. Especially those eaglefolk battling each other, which offended his precious sense of honor.”

Scree’s brows lifted over his large, yellow-rimmed eyes. “At least when we have to fight, we use our own talons and wings—not some clumsy old weaponry that breaks if you step on it.”

Brionna’s hand, which had been fingering her braid, moved to touch her longbow. “The elves have a curse for creatures as warlike as you.”

“And we’re not going to hear it now,” declared Elli, cutting her off. “We have more important things to discuss.”

“Wait now, watching them argue is fun!”

Everyone turned to Henni, who had called out from his perch atop a tall, angular rock. He wasn’t exactly on top, however. The hoolah’s toes were stuck into a jagged crack so that he could hang upside down. His grinning face dangled just above several knifelike quartz crystals.

“Eehee, hoohoo, heeheehahaha,” he laughed raucously, waving a hand at the others. “You people are almost as entertaining as clumsy old Tamwyn!”

He laughed again, clearly enjoying himself. The only question was whether his good mood came mainly from watching Scree and Brionna, or from the simple delight of risking a broken neck.

But Elli was not about to be deterred. She looked grimly at Nuic. “What did that vision really mean? Those dark shapes, whatever they were, pouring out of the spot where the stars had been. And those images of gobsken and water dragons.”

“Along with eaglefolk,” muttered Scree unhappily, shaking his shoulders as if ruffling his wings.

“And then,” continued Elli, “there were those words spoken by—”

“Rhita Gawr,” finished Nuic, his color darkening to deepest black. “
When the great horse dies.
We need to know what that means. But even more, we need a plan.”

“Which I have.” Tamwyn stepped out from under the overhang.

Elli started in surprise, but like Nuic, she just stared at Tamwyn, saving nothing.

Scree’s eagle eyes widened. “Do I sense a quest coming on, little brother?”

“Yes. But I’m
not your
little brother. We’re the same age, and you know it. Just because you look ten years older—”

“And act ten years wiser,” added Scree with a smirk. Ignoring Tamwyn’s glare, he asked, “So tell us, then. What is this plan of yours?”

Tamwyn stepped toward them on the snow. He moved slowly but deliberately, his bare feet crunching on the hardened crust. Just short of the Stargazing Stone, he stopped and drew a deep breath.

“Well,” he began, trying not to look at Elli, “I think there’s just one thing to do.”

“Which is?” probed Nuic, his liquid purple eyes locked on Tamwyn.

“Go up there. All the way to the stars—before those dark shapes, whatever they are, really start to appear.”

“And just what,” demanded the sprite, “would you do if you ever actually reached the stars?”

“Relight them. Restore them somehow. That could be the only way to stop Rhita Gawr.”

“But,” objected Elli, “that’s crazy! No one can do that.”

“Lighting stars is no simple matter,” stressed Nuic.

Still unwilling to look directly at Elli, Tamwyn spoke instead to the sprite. “Look, when those same seven stars went dark, way back at the end of the Age of Storms, Merlin said it was essential to relight them. And he found some way to do it, didn’t he?”

“Sure, but he was—”

“A wizard,” said Tamwyn bitterly. “And I’m not, as all of you know. I’m just a stupid fool, with a wizard’s staff.”

His throat, suddenly dry, grew hoarse. “But maybe I could still find a way. Still figure it out.” He glanced, ever so briefly, at Elli. “Before it’s too late.”

Elli, blinking the mist from her eyes, watched him in silence. Brionna, as observant as ever, caught the softer look on her face, but also said nothing.

Shim, who had ambled over, shook his white mop of hair. He had, for once, heard well enough to understand, and frowned up at Tamwyn. “You is full of madness, lad. Certainly, definitely, absolutely.”

“Maybe so, but I’m convinced it’s the only way to save Avalon.”

“I think,” declared Nuic, “you also have another reason for going. Tell me now, hmmmpff, am I right?”

Tamwyn swallowed. “Yes, old one, you’re right. I also want to try to find my father.”

“Your father?” repeated Scree. “Krystallus? But he’s long dead.”

“No one knows that for sure.”

Scree scratched his hooked nose. “That’s true, I suppose. And if he’s even half as stubborn as you, Tam, he just might have survived.”

Tamwyn grinned. “Everything I know about stubbornness I learned from you, brother.” Turning back to Nuic, he explained, “Maybe I can find him, somewhere between here and the stars.”

“Hmmmpff. Or at least his torch.”

Tamwyn caught his breath, remembering his frightful dream. “Torch?”

The pinnacle sprite shifted on the snow. “His precious torch, said to have been a gift from Merlin himself. He carried it everywhere, on all his expeditions.” His black color rippled with a bit of red. “I heard him say once that the torch would never go out—until the moment he died.”

Tamwyn stiffened. His mind flashed with the final moment of his dream, when his father’s body crumpled. And the torch went out.

At last, Elli spoke again. “Listen to me, Tamwyn. You
are
a stupid fool. But that’s still no reason to throw your life away, questing for things that are impossible. The stars, your father—can’t you just see how crazy that is? They’re both out of reach.”

He didn’t answer.

“Maybe there’s something we can do right here,” she continued. “In the Seven Realms. Maybe Rhita Gawr is already down here! He could be hiding in some cave, along with his minion White Hands.”

At the mention of the sorcerer’s name, Brionna tensed. He had stolen her beloved grandfather, her only family—and left her with a scar across her back, as well as deeper scars inside. Awkwardly, Scree reached out and touched her shoulder. But she just brushed his hand away.

“Elli,” whispered Tamwyn, “I
know
this is crazy. And I’m scared, too—of more things than you know. But honestly, I have to try! To see what I can do. And also to see what I’m really meant to be.”

For a long moment, she studied him. “Just what,” she whispered back, “are you scared of? Besides the stars, and what might be up there?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid of, well, what’s . . .” He moved closer to her, working his tongue. “What’s happening inside me.”

She peered at him, a fathomless look on her face. “I understand,” she said gently. “The same thing has been happening inside me.”

He frowned. “No, no, it isn’t. It can’t! You don’t know what I mean, what I’m feeling.”

Suddenly her eyes seemed to burst into flames. “Oh, I don’t? I can’t? Is that what you think, you rock-brained excuse for a man?”

Angrily, she slid off the Stone and stood facing him. “Well, I’ll tell you something, Tamwyn. If I ever
did
have feelings like that for you, I’d be—well, even stupider than you!”

“Wait, no,” he sputtered, trying to explain. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand just fine,” she snapped. “Just fine!”

She turned and strode off, kicking up snow with every step.

Before Tamwyn could do anything, Nuic tugged on his leggings. “Did I ever tell you, my boy, about your remarkable way with women? It’s a quality you inherited from your grandfather Merlin.”

Tamwyn merely growled at him and started after Elli. Then, abruptly, he halted. He stood as still as the snow-frosted rocks all around, his expression one of utter surprise.

Someone else was approaching—someone he recognized instantly from the songs of bards. But Tamwyn had never expected to see this creature. Not in all his years of trekking. For the bards, with good reason, called her
the most elusive beauty in all the lands.

4
•
Bonds of Two Brothers

Tamwyn’s jaw went slack. Though his bare feet sank deeper into the cold snow, he didn’t care. This was the sight of a lifetime—a creature more of legend than reality.

He glanced over at Elli, who had also stopped in her tracks. By the Stargazing Stone, Scree, Brionna, Nuic, and Shim all stood in silence. Even the irrepressible Henni stopped swinging from his upside-down perch and simply gaped at the creature.

It was the Sapphire Unicorn. She was, as all of them knew, unique. While there were a few other unicorns with patches of blue in their horns or manes, only this one shone deep blue all over, as if her whole body were a glowing gemstone. Long ago, at the very moment that Merlin’s mother, Elen, arrived in Avalon, the first creature she had seen was the Sapphire Unicorn—and since then, this exquisite being had come to symbolize all that was rare and wondrous in the world. For through all the ages of Avalon, there had been one—and only one—of her kind. The sight of her was just as unusual, and full of portent, as an appearance by the Lady of the Lake: Sometimes centuries would pass between sightings. And then, without warning, some voyager in a remote region would catch a glimpse of her spiraling blue horn.

She loped up the steep slope to the summit with the ease of a gentle wind, her head held high, her hooves kicking up puffs of sparkling snow. Her horn glowed lustrous blue, as did her fetlocks, her mane, and her flowing tail. Powerful thigh muscles flexed as she bounded over the drifts.

It was her eyes, though, that most arrested Tamwyn. Deep as an endless slice of sky they were, and just as blue. There was something old about them, as old as the Great Tree itself. They seemed to shine with the sorrows and hopes of all living creatures. And yet they gleamed with newness, too—as vibrant as the first rays of light from a newborn star.

Struck by the unicorn’s beauty, Tamwyn could barely breathe as he watched her climb toward them, her hooves clicking quietly across the snow-frosted rocks. He had known, from the songs of bards, about her elusiveness as well as her beauty. But he found himself, even so, amazed by her loveliness.

She’s like grace come alive
, he mused.
Too beautiful, almost, for a mortal creature.

Mid-stride, the Sapphire Unicorn turned her head and fixed one of her eyes on Tamwyn. Instantly, he realized that she had heard his thought. And then, in a full, whinnying voice, she spoke directly into his mind:

Perhaps that is so, young man. But I come on an errand fraught with misery and grief.

Tamwyn tensed, twisting his feet in the snow.
And what is this errand, graceful one?

Soon you shall know. For it was the Lady of the Lake herself who sent me.

“The Lady,” he said aloud, surprised. Could this be somehow connected to last night’s vision? And to his decision to go to the stars?

At that instant the unicorn leaped over a mound of loose rocks and loped straight toward Elli, who smiled broadly as the shimmering creature trotted right up to her. As a gentle breeze rippled the unicorn’s mane, she studied the young woman carefully. Then, tilting her head, she offered a small shred of cloth that she’d been holding at the edge of her mouth.

Elli took it—and abruptly went pale. She looked anxiously over her shoulder at Nuic and Tamwyn. “A piece of Coerria’s gown! The one worn only by the High Priestess. She must be in trouble!”

Unbidden, Tamwyn caught the thoughts of the unicorn.
More trouble, young woman, than you can imagine.

“I’ll go to her,” declared Elli. She squeezed the silky shred in her hand. “Right away.”

The Sapphire Unicorn’s ears twitched anxiously. She shook her head, scattering the hair of her mane.

Again, Tamwyn caught her thoughts. He shouted to Elli, “She wants you to go first to the Lady of the Lake!”