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

Now he and the wolves were no longer the hunters, now Dracvadrig hunted them, stalked them with a silent stealth that neither Lobon’s powers nor the powers of the wolves—or of the stones themselves—had been able to avert. He did not understand the increasing power of the firemaster. In a series of quick skirmishes, the dragon had attacked and slashed, then flown off, blocking and twisting their senses, easing them into defense, playing with them over and over until they were able to follow only for short distances, battle, then flee deeper into the abyss. They would be struck from behind to turn facing only the empty pit. He knew his anger destroyed his judgment, he knew the wolves were cross and edgy. He fought the knowledge of defeat with added fury. Great Urdd, he was tired, aching tired, his leathers soaked with sweat and stinking. Always too hot, always fighting the ever-present black gnats that stung and made him itch beyond bearing. He thought longingly of cold water, dreamed of sinking deep into a cool river, of drinking his fill of cool water.

He knew his intent to kill Dracvadrig had deteriorated into the dream of an incompetent child. He was shamed at his own loss of control and unable to do anything to change the desperate, debilitating anger that drove him on so uselessly. Certainly he would not turn back. He would follow Dracvadrig to the very center of Ere if he must. His hatred was a tide pummeling him, and he would not give in, ever.

Shorren came up the cliff to him and pressed close, nudging his hand. You must sleep, Lobon. You must eat the rest of the roasted snake, drink and sleep. We will take watch in turns.

*

Behind them, the dragon smiled and considered its prey, as sporting in its contemplation of Lobon as a hunting cat is sporting with soft, furry creatures to behead. Neither Lobon nor the wolves sensed it. Its power in the stone had grown strong and facile as other dark powers rose across Ere to buoy it—no powers of the Seers of light had so joined to create a tide of strength as had the forces of dark. Even the Seers of Carriol were not sufficiently joined and aggressive. Some, at least the girl, were easily led and turned aside, so easily turned to the dark.

*

Meatha’s sudden vision came so strong she was unaware of having stopped on the stone stairs. A vision of fear struck her so sharply she cried out a silent warning and didn’t know to whom she cried. She blocked at once from the people moving past her up toward the citadel. She was unaware of the sea light glancing through a portal, did not notice people pause to look at her. Fear, crushing fear from someone, filled her; then she was aware of Lobon, saw his angry scowl, his tousled red hair, her vision of the abyss so real she might have been standing beside him.

How intense he was, his dark eyes fierce as an animal’s, the tangle of his red hair wild as windborne fire. He unnerved her, attracted her, and she was terrified for him. She felt his willful rebelliousness—and she knew his spirit intimately in that moment, a spirit raw, wanting, and untamed. Knew the danger that waited so close, unseen. And, in spite of his danger and his vulnerability, she felt the power that dwelt about him, and she puzzled at it. And then suddenly she knew what it was, and she stood wide-eyed, not believing. Then having to believe: This Seer carried runestones hidden beneath his bloody tunic. Four shards of the runestone of Eresu.

And she knew with a sudden wildness matching his own, with a rising sense of her own power, that she must tame this man; and that she must have the stones. That to take the runestone that hung in the citadel alone was not enough. She saw her mission suddenly as whole and complete: Everything was linked, all the stones were linked; she must have them all, if ever she was to help Ere. The last hint of her self-doubt fled; she had touched power now, and she would hold to it. She began to plan.

First she must rescue the stone that hung in the citadel. She could never make the council understand that she must take it, that only through carrying it into battle could Kubal be defeated. No one in Carriol was willing to take the stone from its safe place. Once she had that stone then—then she must retrieve the stone that Alardded would surely bring from the sea. And then the stones this young Seer held, deep in the fiery pit. It was all so clear, so essential. As if a pattern of her destiny had been laid down long before she was born: to discover the stone in Burgdeeth and bring it here; then, in Carriol, to learn the skills she would need, and at last to carry the stone and its mates in a final, powerful defeat of the dark forces she so hated. She was so engrossed in what she must do that she forgot her fear for Lobon, or that he was in danger, could think only of her role in Ere’s salvation.