The Castle Of Hape. Caves Of Fire And Ice. The Joining Of The Stone

“It went into Time, and that is all we can know. Now, in each age from which those Children came, Time will warp again, once, in the same way.”

Ram stared at the choir unseeing, shutting their voices from his mind. Could he have prevented the shattering of the stone? And if he had prevented it, what would have happened differently these past twelve years?

They had begun their journey that morning from the wild mountain lands above Burgdeeth to Carriol, and to Jerthon’s home. Carriol then was a collection of small crofts and farms, of peaceful men and women holding their freedom stubbornly against the ever-threatening Herebian bands. Joyful, vigorous men and women ready always to battle for their hard-won freedom.

Now, twelve years later, Carriol was a nation. With the easy cooperation between the Carriolinian Seers and those who came from slavery in Burgdeeth, with an easy-open council, they had welded Carriol into a strong, cohesive country. The few crofts at the foot of the ruins had grown into a town. The ready bands that had ridden to defend neighbors’ lands had grown into four fierce, well-disciplined battalions of fighting men backed by women who were equally skillful at arms.

And as Carriol grew stronger, the wrath of the Pellian Seers had grown. The Pellian, BroogArl, had drawn the evil Seers of all nations into an increasingly malevolent unity directed toward Carriol, a unity of dark that breathed hate poisonous as vipers upon the air of that rising free land, rose in increasing anger that Carriol was a sanctuary where men could come in need to escape the evils of the dark Seers, and that Carriol was becoming too strong to attack.

All the political intrigue and manipulating among small-minded leaders in other countries that so increased the lack of freedom of an unwitting populace, all the atrocities done to common men for the pleasure and diversion of those leaders as their evil lust began to feed on itself—all of this was threatened if fearful serfs could escape to Carriol and be protected there.

There had been a great, concerted effort by Ere’s dark Seers to bring all the nations but Carriol under one iron-gloved rule, one dark entity that could devour Carriol: a war-hungry giant that could crush her. The Seers of Carriol had so far prevented that, with the help of the runestone. But if they had had the whole stone, had held that great power, what more could they have done?

Surely they would have prevented—made impossible—the burning of a Seeing child in Venniver’s fires.

Ram glanced at Jerthon and found him scowling. He touched Jerthon’s arm, seeking for some silent contact, but caught only a fleeting sense of unease, nothing more.

Jerthon loosed his leather tunic, looked as if he would like to pull off his boots. “Lieutenant Prail told me the winged ones pulled you out of that bloody trap in the south.” He stared at Ram. “The horses of Eresu did not come near us, we did not see them or feel their presence. It seems to me something goes on with them, but I can’t make out what—as if there is fear among them. I think that evil stalks the winged ones just as evil stalks us. Only once did we hear their voices in our minds for a moment—beseeching voices laced with fear. Then the silence returned.”

Ram shifted, easing the strain on his wound. It itched abominably now that it had started to heal. “The golden mare who brought me had a sadness about her. Also, Jerthon, something is amiss with them, as well as with the world of men.”

Jerthon stared across the citadel to where Skeelie stood tall in the choir, the sun striking her robe. His sister sang as if her whole soul were lifted and buoyed by the music. He said, with more heart, “I ride in a few hours to rescue the captives taken in the north; I came back only to get fresh mounts and more men. Arben’s battalion rides north of Blackcob now. They will wait for us just below the mountains, to come on the Kubalese camp from high ground. I ride south, and those few men left in Blackcob ride out direct over the hills eastward. We will come upon Kubal from three sides. But there . . . I think there is someone in the Kubalese camp who is in sympathy with us. I had only a fleeting feel of it, but perhaps he can help us if we can summon the power to reach him. It would be good to have a spy inside to loose horses, cut saddle bands and otherwise cripple the Kubalese.”