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

Already she could feel that the sea floor was a tumble of boulders. Already she was beginning to know the construction, the first touch of panic, that the weight and confinement of the sea could bestow. The water rolled around the lines in gentle green swells. She saw through Nicoli’s eyes, at first only green light growing darker, then the dark, waving shapes of sea plants, a rising boulder, and the underwater world growing constantly darker and closer until Meatha’s pulse was pounding with the sense of confinement, the constriction of the heavy suit. The sea was a tomb closing over her. She began to tremble. She blocked frantically, incredulous that Nicoli felt no fear.

She tried to remind herself that it was the lasting curse of the MadogWerg making her feel like this. Don’t let it! Don’t let it do this to you! But she couldn’t seem to help herself. She thought fleetingly that perhaps the MadogWerg had left other weaknesses. Did something dark touch her mind through that weakness, that emptiness she sometimes knew? But no! Nothing touched her but her own resolve, her own commitment to the salvation of Ere. Any other thought was madness. She put all else away from her.

It seemed a long time but was perhaps only minutes before Nicoli drew close among the tumbled, drowned boulders to where the stone lay, its power on her rocking her senses. Meatha felt Nicoli move quickly in the almost total darkness to a narrow cleft between stones, pulling her air line to keep it free; felt her kneel in the cumbersome suit and reach into the cleft. Meatha fought the fear of being trapped. Her hands were sweating. Frantically she blocked to keep from being discovered, tried to calm herself, felt something deeper give her strength and knew it must be her own power before untapped. She sensed Nicoli reaching, touching . . . Then she felt the sudden shock in Nicoli’s fingers as she touched the stone.

Nicoli grasped it in a handful of sand and pebbles and brought it close to her face. She could see it only as a vague shape through the small, thick glass, but its presence in her hand was like a pulsing heartbeat of power. Meatha felt as if the stone held within itself the thunder of the sea. She felt as if her own hands were on the ropes as Nicoli began to ascend, the runestone tucked safely into her diving suit.

*

Dracvadrig smiled with fine satisfaction. They had the stone. His frustration at searching uselessly across the cursed desert for vanished wolves was as nothing now. The stone was at this moment being carried to the surface of the sea. It was safe, ready to be plucked, ready to be given. He had only to guide and protect Meatha, reassure her, help her to slip the stone away from the divers at the right moment and bring it to him. Then she and the wretched young Seer would begin the final act. Oh, yes, soon, soon—as a dragon measures time—the runestone would be whole again, be his, all power would be his.

Meanwhile he must settle Kish. He could not have her taking the stone, tampering with his plans. He swept fast along the coast out of Karra and across the Bay of Pelli above the sunken islands and came at Pelli from the sea, but low and on the west coast, so he would remain unseen by the divers around on the southern cliffs. He sensed Kish, then soon saw her riding hard. She had crossed the inlet by barge and was already on the high meadows. He dove on her and saw her horse rear and twist in terror, too frightened even to run. “Turn back, Kish. Leave the horse, my dear, and come onto my back as you were meant to travel.”

“Why should I! You would not help me when I wanted you, why should I heed you now! Go on about your warring, worm, and leave me to mine!”

His smile was a hideous sight in that evil dragon face with the ruined eye. “Do not resist me, Kish. You know you do not want to lose me, I am too fine a lover. Surely you would not want me as your enemy. Come, Kish, come—I will destroy the cults for you if that is what you wish, you do not need the stones for that.” He undulated close around her, so the poor horse nearly fell dead from fright. “Come, my love, come Kish.” He caressed her with a scaly coil. “Come, my love, we are one in this.” He drew his rough dragon tongue across her neck.

She jerked the horse until its mouth bled and stared up at Dracvadrig in fury. “If we are one in this, why shouldn’t I use the stones! I won’t have my cults—”

“There is no time! The young Seer Lobon has reached the gates and will be captive in moments. I need the stones now, I need to bring the girl there to the cells to him, draw her and the stones there to him. . . .”

“You move them like sticks and brittles! It’s only a game to you!”