The Eternal Flame (19 page)

“No,” protested Lleu, waving his arms urgently. “Whatever is that evil weapon of yours, you can’t use it now.”

The warrior grunted. He released the claw, so that it fell back against his chest. “Yer smarter than ye know, priest. Garr, I wish this thing didn’t need so much time between blasts!”

He seemed to relax—then suddenly whipped out his broadsword. Pointing its glittering blade at Brionna, he crowed, “But nothin’ can stop me from usin’ a different weapon.”

“I can.” Kerwin stepped boldly between Harlech and Brionna. His face showed all the battle-hardened severity that had made him famous among his people; his eagle eyes glowed clear and bright. “Since apparently this parley has failed, let us declare it over. I suggest we return to our separate camps.”

Harlech heaved a sigh of disappointment. “All right, no more fun. All we can do now is go back to our camps, like ye said.” He hesitated, then spoke stiffly, as if his words had been rehearsed. “Too bad this parley ended so soon. I was hopin’ to delay ye till our
new recruits
arrive.”

Brionna’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like the way he’d said that, not at all. Was all this just a ruse to lure her side into attacking sooner? Or was there really some new ally of the gobsken on the way? Someone like Kulwych or a powerful dragon—or even Rhita Gawr himself?

“Anyways,” continued Harlech, “afore we go, there’s jest one more thing I want to do.”

“What?” demanded the eagleman who faced him squarely.

“This.”

Harlech thrust his blade straight into Kerwin’s heart. The eagleman gaped in shock, while his assailant merely grinned. “There’s another man o’ yer kind I’d much rather kill. But like I said afore, I jest couldn’t resist.”

Struggling mightily, Kerwin tried to pull free, but could only fall to his knees. With a shudder that racked his whole body, he crumpled to the ground. He made a desperate keening sound, like a dying bird of prey. Then his bright eyes closed forever.

Llynia, standing so close that Kerwin’s hand had brushed her shin, went deathly pale.

“Murderer!” shrieked Brionna. She swiftly grabbed another arrow and raised her bow.

But Harlech was ready for her. Swinging his blade through the air, he struck her bow and sliced the wood in two. The longbow collapsed and dropped to the mud at her feet.

Harlech’s grin widened. “Well now, looks like this parley really
is over.
An’ like me l’il she-elf has no more weapons.”

He lifted his sword and lunged at her. Before he could strike, however, Catha flew right at his face. The brave falcon screeched wildly, scratching at his eyes with her talons. Harlech stumbled, falling backward into Morrigon. The two of them slipped in the mud and landed with a splat.

“Come!” cried Lleu. He grabbed Brionna’s arm, pulling her back toward their army. “We must run! Before Harlech’s claw regains its power.”

The priest gave a sharp whistle. “Catha, you must come, too. Fly with us!”

With a piercing screech, the hawk obeyed. She paused only long enough to peck Harlech’s brow, drawing blood, as he struggled to rise. Then she winged toward Lleu and Brionna. When she reached them, they were running hard, their feet pounding in the mud. She screeched again—but it couldn’t be heard. For a deafening roar suddenly filled the air.

Their entire army, having witnessed Harlech’s treachery, charged into battle, shouting and cursing and brandishing weapons. No one could doubt that the great battle for Avalon had begun. Just as no one could doubt that Kerwin, the courageous eagleman, was only the first to die today in this desolate place.

22
•
One Problem

Elli trudged down the stone steps of Borvo Lugna, the deepest mine in Shadowroot. Six gobsken marched ahead of her, and almost as many behind, the wavering light of their torches creating bizarre shadows on the walls. Yet she paid no heed. Still numb from the loss of old Grikkolo, she wasn’t looking, wasn’t listening. She felt only the unyielding rock under her feet, the weight of Nuic against her arm, and the greater weight of hopelessness in her heart.

She had lost any chance that she might have had to defeat Kulwych and destroy his corrupted crystal. She had run out of ways to help Avalon—just as she had run out of time. And to make matters worse, going underground reminded her of her years as a slave to the gnomes, years she had tried very hard to forget.

“Move along, ye filthy spies,” barked the gobsken behind her. He jabbed Elli’s back with the point of his sword. “Ol’ scarface will be awful pleased to see ye.”

“An’ surprised, too,” added another guard. “So surprised he might pop out his only eyeball.”

Several gobsken wheezed with laughter at the joke.

Down, down, down they marched, deeper into the mine. The air grew warmer and staler by the minute, and it reeked of something like rotten eggs. Even in the utter darkness of the lands above, Elli could always find good air to breathe. Here, though, she felt an increasing urge to gag. And she was beginning to feel dizzy.

She missed a step and stumbled, crashing into the gobsken in front of her. He whirled around and pushed his face so close to hers that she could see the gleaming drops of sweat on his gray-green skin. Wrapping his three-fingered hand around her throat, he squeezed and shook her angrily.

“Watch out, scum! Or I’ll roast yer head wid me torch an’ eat it fer supper.”

Another gobsken clubbed him hard on the back. “If ye do, Kulwych’ll do the same to yer ugly head.”

With a grunt, the gobsken released Elli, shoving her backward. She fell onto the steps, coughing uncontrollably. It was all she could do to hold on to Nuic, whose colors had shifted to enraged scarlet.

“Move,” commanded the gobsken behind her.

He kicked her and prodded her with his blade, forcing her to stand. She rose, swaying unsteadily. And she couldn’t stop coughing, though her lungs ached and her throat stung. Tears filled her eyes.

Yet somehow she kept going, descending deeper into the mine.
Snap out of it,
she told herself sternly.
You’re no good to anyone like this.

Just as her coughing finally subsided, they came to a landing. Someone shoved her into a rough-hewn tunnel, and the group started marching along this level passageway. Although her leg muscles were grateful for the change, this tunnel smelled even more putrid than the stairwell. She clutched Nuic, forcing herself to breathe slowly and stay alert.

For what felt like an endless time, they continued to trudge. The monotonous rhythm of the gobsken’s heavy boots echoed inside the dank tunnel, as well as inside Elli’s head. At last, they slowed and came to a halt.

One of the gobsken stepped to the rock wall. With a nervous glance at the others, he raised his fist and rapped against a heavy door set into the stone. Elli noticed an eerie reddish glow seeping through the edges.

Slowly, the door opened, flooding the tunnel with pulsing red light. A harsh, raspy voice came from whatever room lay within. Elli couldn’t make out what the voice said, but the mere sound of it chilled her blood.

“It’s Kulwych,” she whispered to Nuic. “I’m sure of it.”

“Hmmmpff. In that case, maybe it’s time you started thinking of a plan.”

She scowled at him, but knew that he was right. How could she have been so foolish to waste precious time despairing? She should have been thinking of what she still might do for her world!

“At least do your best to hide your crystal,” the sprite whispered as he turned the Galator around so that it rested behind his back.

“Right.” She patted down the leaves of her amulet so that they fully covered the crystal of élano.

Just then the gobsken finished talking, bowed his head, and quickly backed away. He strode over to Elli, grabbed her by the shoulder, and dragged her roughly to the open door. Without so much as a word, he hurled her inside and turned to go.

Elli stumbled into the room, striking her head against the rock wall. Dazed, she slumped to the floor, vaguely aware of hearing the gobsken’s boots clomping down the tunnel. And then she heard another sound: a low, throaty cackle from nearby.

“So, my young priestess, you have come to visit, mmmyesss?” Kulwych stepped closer, peering at them with his lidless eye. “You and your little pet.”

Nuic’s skin color darkened to black, while veins of scarlet coursed through his chest.

Shaking her head to clear her vision, she cringed at the sight of the sorcerer’s mutilated face. The jagged scar that ran from his missing ear down to his chin caught the room’s red light, pulsing horrendously. Then, looking beyond him, she saw the source of the light. It was a crystal, throbbing red, placed on a stone pedestal.

The corrupted crystal,
she realized. So close! Maybe there
was
still a chance to do what she had come here to do. But how could she possibly destroy the crystal, even if she could somehow get past Kulwych?

The sorcerer rubbed his pale hands together. “You are, I believe, the priestess I was told about. Why else would you be here in Shadowroot? But where, may I ask, is the, er, friend I sent to find you?”

“You mean that murderer, Deth Macoll?” answered Elli, trying to look at Kulwych rather than at the crystal, so he wouldn’t suspect her motives. “He’s dead.”

He drew a sharp breath. “Dead? Are you sure?”

She nodded grimly.

“How unfortunate, mmmyesss.” He chortled vengefully. “I was looking forward to the pleasure of killing him myself.”

The sorcerer raised one hand to his face and started inspecting his perfectly clipped fingernails. “And what,” he asked, still examining his hand, “happened to the crystal of pure élano that he was supposed to steal?”

Elli winced. “It’s, um—gone. Lost.”

Kulwych turned to her and clacked his tongue. “You are a terrible liar, my priestess. Quite terrible. Yet it hardly matters. I have very little interest in your crystal, having one of my own that is far more powerful—as well as far more useful for my particular purposes.”

Thoughtfully, he stroked what remained of his chin. “Now just one question remains. Why did you come all the way here? Surely not for a social engagement, though I am famously good company.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her back pressed against the rock wall.

He curled his slit of a mouth into a frightful grin. “Perhaps, then, you came here with a plan. Could it possibly be . . . to destroy my own crystal?”

Watching the color drain from her face, he nodded knowingly. “You cannot fool me, Priestess.”

Grandly, he gave Elli a bow. “You were right to try, though. Mmmyesss. There is awesome power in my crystal, more than you can imagine! Why, even now it binds my lord Rhita Gawr to his warriors on high, and me to my warriors on the Plains of Isenwy. And it is capable of much, much more, as Avalon shall soon discover.”

Elli fidgeted, her mind racing. She had to think of a way! But what?

Kulwych laughed softly. “There is only one problem with your plan, I am afraid.” He bent closer, the crystal’s light pulsing in his eye. “My crystal
cannot be destroyed
.”

Her heart froze.

“But you, my priestess, you certainly
can
be destroyed.” He rubbed his hands briskly. “So that is what I shall do, this very instant.”

PART III

23
•
Dying Flames

Tamwyn held tight to Ahearna’s mane as the great horse whirled around, preparing to confront Rhita Gawr. Light from the enormous star, the Heart of Pegasus, flashed on every feather of her silvery white wings. Yet that light, Tamwyn knew, was fading fast. For jagged cracks of darkness continued to spread rapidly through the Heart.

Ahearna tilted her powerful wings, turning so fast that Tamwyn barely hung on. As she came around, she snorted with wrath, flaring her nostrils. Her angry neigh echoed across the sky, from the nearby star and the branch that held it to the luminous waves of the River of Time.

Then came another sound, a gargantuan roar that completely overwhelmed Ahearna’s neigh. So loud was it that the nearest branches of the Great Tree, as well as the sky itself, seemed to shake. Tamwyn winced, while his fellow passenger Henni released his hold around Tamwyn’s waist in order to cover his ears. The roar reverberated among the stars, louder than anything they had ever heard.

It was the roar of a dragon.

Ahearna completed her turn—and faced Rhita Gawr. He hovered directly in front of the horse and riders, his massive body a huge dark stain upon the sky. His tongue alone, which flitted hungrily along his lips, was larger than the mortals who dared to challenge him; with his leathery black wings outstretched, he dwarfed them as an eagle would dwarf a moth. Not since the days of the legendary Basilgarrad, long ago, had a dragon so fierce and powerful commanded the skies of Avalon.

The dragon’s scales glistened darkly in the starlight, absorbing much more light than they reflected. His claws shone even blacker, as did his many rows of sword-sharp teeth. Yet the darkest parts of this terrible beast were not his wings, scales, claws, or teeth—but his eyes.

They’re not only dark,
thought Tamwyn, taken aback.
They’re empty. Hollow. Bottomless.

Like two wells of nothingness, as vacant as the void, Rhita Gawr’s eyes glared at him. Then suddenly the eyes showed a look of surprise, which swiftly turned into unbounded rage.

“Spawn of Merlin,” bellowed the dark dragon. “How is it possible that you are still alive? I thought I had killed you already! Yet now I smell your living blood—and the stench of my old nemesis.”

“The only stench you smell is yours, Rhita Gawr!” Tamwyn leaned forward on the steed, his black hair shining. “I’ve come a long way to find you.”

The dragon opened his cavernous mouth, packed with deadly pinnacles, and roared even louder than before. “All you have found is your death, runt wizard.”

Faster than thought, Rhita Gawr coiled his massive tail above his outspread wings—and hurled it straight at the challengers. But Ahearna, the Star Galloper, moved even faster. She raised a wing and spun sideways, just as the celestial whip snapped with explosive force.