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

She could sense new movements of Kubalese troops, knew she must come down on them there in the north, drive them back with the potency of the stones. She must circle the coastal countries, destroy every Kubalese soldier as only that power could destroy them. She was the stones’ willing servant now in this last, this all-decisive attack. She was very sure, very aware of her power; so engulfed in the aura of that power that she did not sense the presence following her. She turned to look back only when Michennann faltered, touched with sudden fear.

She looked back beneath Michennann’s wings, sensed the man suddenly and sharply, then saw him: Tall and slim he sat the dark, winging mount, white hair gleaming, and her first response was sudden wild joy at knowing he was alive, he whom she had mourned.

Then fear swept her as it had swept Michennann. And then shame. His censure was sharp as a sword.

But why was she ashamed? He had no right to make her feel ashamed. He should be pleased, should be helping her. She felt amazed and hurt. Why didn’t he understand? She tried to touch his thoughts and met only coldness and disdain. She urged the mare faster, appalled at his insensitiveness, he who had always understood. Dracvadrig’s power pulled at her, and she followed blindly, needing that power now in her loneliness, pushing back wildly the suspicion that was beginning to awaken within her deepest thoughts.

She was over the north of Zandour. She would turn now and come low onto the Kubalese troops, bring the power of the stones down on them. She spoke to the mare in silence, laid a hand on her neck, urging her into a low sweep over Zandour.

But the mare would not turn or lower her wings to sweep down, would not speak or acknowledge her command. She simply continued north, ignoring Meatha’s bidding. Meatha glanced back at Anchorstar. This was his doing! How could he! She brought her power strong against Michennann, against Anchorstar, and was ignored by both. Michennann would not turn aside, would not speak to her, the mare was caught in a mindless pull northward. How could Anchorstar not understand? She wanted to scream at him and make him draw away.

She tried again to make Michennann turn, but felt only a dull, blank fixedness of mind quite unlike the mare, unlike any winged one. She slapped Michennann’s neck, jerked her mane; all uselessly. Michennann kept on, caught in a web, now, beyond her will, beyond her ability to destroy.

It was then Anchorstar gave her the vision. It seemed to have nothing to do with her plight, with the dilemma engulfing her. She saw five people, all white-haired, one of them a child. One was Anchorstar. One was Tra. Hoppa. Another woman. A young man. They stood in a meadow greener than the jade itself. Behind them rose a strange, clear dome. It looked as if it were made of glass, though that would be impossible; glass was made only in very small pieces. It might have been formed of crystal out of the mountains, so strange it was. There was a sense of power and warmth, of lightness; a sense of other things gone too quickly to grasp.

When the vision left her, her mind seemed to clear from a confusion she had hardly been aware of. The warmth and tightness of that place, the sense of power, remained with her; but part of the vision escaped too quickly, was gone. Now she felt clear-headed, as if she had awakened from a nightmare where all her senses had been awry. She knew suddenly and completely, with a shock that chilled her, that she had never been meant to reach the Kubalese troops. That she had never been meant to destroy those troops. She knew, as sharply as if her face had been slapped, that she and Michennann were being led toward a different destination. Toward a destination filled with terror. She turned to stare back at Anchorstar, crying out to him now for help, knowing he meant only to show her the truth. . . .

And he was gone from the sky. Gone as if he had never been there.