The Elven (54 page)

A Spell at Ebb Tide

I
t was morning, and Nuramon sat at the very stone on which the queen had once destroyed the hourglass. They had found many grains of sand there, and Farodin had told him how, in the queen’s dressing chamber, he had had a vision of this same stone.

Nuramon still found it hard to believe that they had actually found the place that the oracle had shown him. It was low tide. The sea had drained away, leaving a rippled mudflat between the island and the mainland. The tidal landscape reminded Nuramon of the path he and Alwerich had followed to the oracle, how it had resembled a dry riverbed.

Only about twenty steps away lay the Albenstar. The outgoing tide had laid it bare. The star was clearly visible by the shellfish that had collected at the spot.

It seemed almost a miracle that they had found land so far to the east. Beyond the island stretched what looked to be an entire continent, a land that the people of the Fjordlands and of Angnos, Drusna, and Fargon knew nothing about. Untouched land.

“He’s ready,” said Mandred, slapping Nuramon on the shoulder. “Farodin’s all set.” The human looked tired. He had spent the past few days in the little tender, rowing Farodin back and forth across the bay, looking for scattered grains of sand.

Nuramon just nodded.

“This time it will work.” Mandred’s attempt at encouragement helped little. Nuramon had tried too many times already to open the gate to Noroelle, but each time, he had failed miserably. First, he had tried it at high tide, but the water seemed to weaken the spell, and to open the gate to reach Noroelle, he needed all of his power.

Nuramon stood up.

The crew came and gathered by the shore. They did not want to miss the spectacle, even though there had been little to see so far. Farodin was not with them.

The island they were on might well have an identical counterpart in the Shattered World. Just a single gate on the Albenstar, that was all they needed, and they would be with Noroelle. Nuramon could not believe that they were so close to the woman they loved and yet could not reach her. It was impossible to open a gate at the Albenstar under their own power. The queen’s barrier was too strong.

“Farodin’s found every grain of sand here,” said Mandred.

His companion’s words could not hide the fact that they probably still possessed too little of the sand and that the queen’s magic was superior to their own.

Finally, Farodin joined them. He seemed relaxed and said in a calm voice, “Keep in mind, Mandred, that you and the others must not try to help us, whatever happens. In the end, the spell would miscarry because of your concern.”

“You have my word.” The other Firnstayners chorused their agreement. Then Mandred clapped Nuramon on the shoulder. “Remember your heroism in Luth’s cave.”

Together, Nuramon and Farodin walked down to the Albenstar. The shells formed a circle on the Albenstar and radiated some way out along the Albenpaths as well, creating an image of the sun. Right in the center of the small circle, some of the shellfish formed a pile. It seemed the sea was too weak to wash them away. The Albenstar held them in place.

They took their positions inside the circle of shells.

“What’s the matter, Nuramon?” Farodin asked.

“We are so close to her, yet—”

Farodin interrupted him. “I will draw the power from the sand. That’s what I am good at. And I will pass it on to you. Like that, we can call up all the power we have between us.”

It calmed Nuramon to know that Farodin wanted to help him as much as he could, but his companion had no idea how powerful the queen’s barrier was. Mandred’s comparison with the Cave of Luth was not absurd. In his attempt to break through the barrier the day before, Nuramon had suffered terrible pain. Farodin, too, had attempted to open a gate, but he had failed at the start and had not felt how strong the magic was that they were pitting themselves against. They had to summon far more power to reach their goal. Fate seemed to take pleasure in throwing insurmountable tasks in their path. Nuramon thought of their battle with the Devanthar. They had been just as poorly equipped for that as they were for the queen’s barrier. But if they were able to rise above their own limitations just once, then maybe it would be enough to rescue Noroelle.

“Ready?” Farodin asked.

“No, I’m not. But I want to get to her.” Nuramon took hold of Farodin’s hand and held it tightly. Then he closed his eyes. He focused, and the Albenpaths slowly appeared before his eyes. Three ran parallel to the ground, and one came up directly out of the earth, penetrated the Albenstar, and traced a line skyward. This was the path that would lead them to Noroelle. It was black, shot through with veins of green light. Nuramon could feel the queen’s barrier, but he could not see it. It formed a kind of crust enveloping and blocking any access to the path to Noroelle. Like a sieve, it seemed to let only a fraction of the power of the path come through. The crust was harder than anything Nuramon knew of. He decided now to attack it directly and not, as previously, to approach the barrier with caution.

He began to weave the spell, preparing himself to launch a ferocious attack that would break through the barrier and open a wound in the Albenstar. Like a sword, his magic slashed at the barrier. But before it struck home, Nuramon felt something gather in front of him. Suddenly, it reached out for him physically, and searing pain shot through him.

He broke off the spell when he could no longer feel his own body. Then he released himself from the barrier, and the pain instantly disappeared.

Nuramon opened his eyes and let go of Farodin’s hand. He sighed.

Farodin looked at him in sympathy. “You used none of my power.”

“I didn’t get that far. This barrier is stronger than the iron entrance to the kingdom of the dwarves.”

“Do you want to give up?” Farodin asked. “No one would call you weak if you did.”

“Noroelle is on the other side. I’ll try again.”

He took hold of Farodin’s hand, closed his eyes, and refocused his energy. He had to work faster. At the moment the power of the barrier gathered to hurt him, he already had to have broken through the crust. He went through the spell one more time in his mind. Then he tried again. His own power hit the barrier, this time penetrating it like a sword slicing into the body of an enemy, and still he was unable to break through the magical wall before the pain grew too much for him. It was as if he had pushed a blade into his own body.

Suddenly, he felt Farodin come to his aid with his own magical power. The grains of sand gave him great strength and helped Nuramon withstand the pain. He tried desperately to puncture the barrier, but his progress was very slow. And the more he put into breaking through the queen’s magic, the greater the pain became.

Nuramon heard a cry. It was Farodin. The pain seemed to have attacked his companion as well. Nuramon sensed that they were now sharing the pain. This gave him more strength for his own spell, and he pushed deeper into the barrier. But with every tiny advance, the pain grew, until finally, it was so strong that Farodin’s cries of torment seemed unending. The pain was everywhere. As he had in the ice cave, Nuramon gradually lost all sensation in his body, but his magic was still moving him forward. The protective barrier was almost torn through. Any moment, he would be able to start directing his power into the dark Albenpath to open the gate. Bit by bit, he was coming closer. Soon they would be with Noroelle.

Then the pain became truly immense. He could still feel Farodin’s hand in his, but his companion could give him no more power. Nothing more flowed between them, and that knowledge struck at Nuramon’s spirit like a bolt of lightning. He fought desperately against failure. His power went out like a candle, and he was thrown out of the spell.

Nuramon opened his eyes. Carefully, he released Farodin’s hand. His companion was staring at him with glassy eyes and breathing heavily. The bottle holding the sand slipped from his fingers. Nuramon had never seen Farodin look as vulnerable as he did in that moment.

“Forgive me,” Farodin finally said. “I was at the end of my strength. The pain . . . is that what you felt yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Nuramon. “The pain comes with every attempt I make.”

“I had no idea . . . Where did you learn to endure that?”

“In the Cave of Luth.”

Farodin’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Nuramon went on. “Our spell did not fail because of the pain. We are simply not strong enough to take on the queen like this. We are like riverbank sprites trying to trip a centaur. I am drained. I am empty. And you are, too, aren’t you?”

Farodin nodded and sighed deeply.

Nuramon looked to Mandred. The jarl and the Mandridians were watching them with concern, but as they had promised, they had not moved from where they were.

“Everything all right?” Mandred called to them.

“It is over,” Nuramon answered sourly.

The disappointment on Mandred’s face hurt Nuramon. The human had always believed in his magical talents and thought of him as a great sorcerer.

Mandred and the Firnstayners retreated to the woods that covered almost the entire island. When they were gone, Nuramon turned back to Farodin. “We have to talk about how to proceed.”

Side by side, they returned to the island, climbing over the stone and making their way into the forest. For a long time, neither said a word. Nuramon thought of what the djinn in Valemas had said: “Great power is needed to defeat great power.” They were not yet ready to break the barrier. “We have to give up for now and find another way,” said Nuramon.

“Let us try again tomorrow,” said Farodin.

“Listen to me. It is impossible.”

“We are so close. We can’t just—”

“It is impossible,” Nuramon repeated. “How many times have you heard me say those words?”

Farodin pulled up. “Never.”

“Then believe me. We are not strong enough to take on the power of this barrier. There is only one hope left. An Albenstone.”

Farodin lifted up the silver bottle. “We have found a lot of the sand, and it will be easier now for me to find more. Then we can try again.”

“I can’t believe you still think that will work, Farodin. The power of the sand is too weak, too diffuse. If we had at least the hourglass itself . . .”

“I have been keeping a lookout for it, but there is no trace of it here. There’s simply nothing.”

“The sand has played its part. It led us here, and it may serve us again . . . Imagine Noroelle, right now, in the Shattered World, wandering among the trees just as we are, thinking about us and perhaps Obilee. I wish this thought alone would give me the strength we need. I know we can push ourselves harder and farther, but everything has its limits, and I sense that we still lack far too much power.”

“But how are we supposed to find an Albenstone? Apart from the queen, I know of none among the Albenkin who possesses a stone like that. And Emerelle will never give us hers.” He hesitated. “But perhaps it could be stolen?”

Nuramon leaned his back against a tree. “We will not demean ourselves. There must be other stones.”

“Even if they exist, we can’t find them. No one will ever show you the way to an Albenstone. Anyone who has one would keep it hidden. And assuming we found one, would you know how to use it?”

“No. But there is one place where we can learn that. And maybe we’ll even discover some clue to finding an Albenstone there.”

“Iskendria.”

Nuramon nodded. “Yes. Iskendria.”

They reached the other side of the island, where they had set up their camp. When they appeared from the trees, Mandred came toward them expectantly. “What now?” he asked.

“We failed. And we will keep failing no matter how many times we try it,” said Farodin. “We will return when we are stronger.”

“We are going to search for an Albenstone and collect every grain of sand we can find,” Nuramon added. “Then we are coming back.”

Mandred nodded. His initial disappointment seemed to have softened. “Only an idiot fights a fight he can’t win. The victor in a war is the one who wins the final battle, and our final battle is far from being fought.” He turned to their crew. “We’re breaking camp.”

While the men set to work, the three companions returned to the ship. It was Mandred who broke the silence. “There are Albenpaths here. Could we use one of them to get back to Firnstayn?”

“And risk another jump in time?” replied Farodin. “We’ve learned to accept it, but what about the crew? They would only hate us if they got home to find their children were old men. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Never. I just wanted to know if it would work.”

“The faun oak told us that we will be able to travel between the Albenstars of one world someday. But I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.”

Then Nuramon said, “No, we are ready for it. I tried the spell when I was searching for the oracle, as I traveled through Angnos. At some point, I just took the risk, and it worked. It isn’t difficult. You just have to know the path you’re following very well. I used the spell the faun oak taught us. Instead of following a path to another world, you simply choose one that doesn’t leave the world you’re in.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Farodin asked.

Nuramon smiled. He was close to reminding his comrade how many times
he
had kept what he knew to himself. “Compared with everything else that happened, it didn’t seem that important. But Mandred has once again asked the right question.” Nuramon saw pride spread across the jarl’s face. “The voyage behind us was a voyage of distance. The one ahead of us is a journey of a different sort.” He pointed along the Albenpath. “We came across this path very early. If I’m not mistaken, it crosses the southern Fjordlands. For our return journey now, that doesn’t help us, because we don’t know which Albenstar it leads to. But it may well help us get back here. The queen’s barrier only blocks Noroelle’s path, not the others.”

“So you think we should jump from Albenstar to Albenstar from now on?”

“If we do, we can reach Iskendria quickly, and avoid both humans and long days of travel through difficult regions.” He was thinking of the desert.