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

As the ridge rose more steeply to join the mountain, the mare climbed by balancing with her poor naked wings. Telien pulled herself up by clutching at boulders, could not believe the mare could climb as she was doing up the rocky incline. The stallion’s wings, as he balanced, spread over them as if to shelter them from the violent sky. The earth rocked harder, its voice swept them with fear. Then the earth shook like an animal, and Telien stumbled, lost her hold; the mountain tilted, and she was thrown against a boulder, clutched at it, was torn from it—she was falling.

She fell twisting down the cliff, grabbing at dirt, and could not stop herself, heard the mare scream as the whole world rocked and spun.”

When at last the ground was still, Telien could not rise. She lay in the near dark, dizzy and confused. She could see the rocky slope down which she had fallen. She heard the mare groan close by. Finally she raised herself, began to crawl until she found Meheegan’s warm bulk sprawled above her up the slope, went sick at the thought of broken legs; how could the mare fall so far and not break every bone? The stallion nickered, a darker shape against the smoke-filled sky, nosing at Meheegan, caressing and reassuring her, trying to make her rise.

At last Meheegan threw up her head and began to struggle to get up. Telien forgot her own pain and confusion as she watched Meheegan’s painful effort. She could not believe it when the mare stood on all four legs.

Once the stallion had Meheegan up, he began to nose at Telien—though he drew back and snorted when his muzzle touched her forehead. She touched her head and felt blood.

She rose at last, very dizzy, leaned against the stallion and heard him nicker to the mare. He wanted to climb again, to be away. How could they climb again that rocky cliff? It was not possible. She was too dizzy to climb anywhere, too sick to climb.

But they did climb. With terrible effort, Telien and the mare climbed the dark, rocky incline with the stallion pushing constantly at them, nearly dragging Telien sometimes as she clung to him, forcing the mare, giving all his weight to brace her as she struggled upward, his wings supporting and buoying them, keeping them from reeling backward into the ravine. At last, at long last, they stood high atop a plateau on the mountain. Below them, red streaks broke the night where rivers of fire were flowing out.

Telien did not see the wolves above them in the darkness—wolves urging the stallion on—did not see the great dark wolf grin and his mate Rhymannie bow low as the three finally topped the slope. She did not see wolves swing away on noiseless feet to lead the red stallion ever upward between the fires of the mountains.

*

Ram stared at Venniver’s cold blue eyes and without warning the power returned to him, flooding him so he was suddenly and utterly aware of Venniver’s mind. How could this happen so abruptly? Were the powers of the dark drawn away in some effort that took all the force they had? Or were the Luff’Eresi doing this for him, using their own great powers to give him this clear vision of Venniver? To open Venniver’s mind to examination was not an easy task. Ram had never—when he had lived in Burgdeeth, when his powers had been full on him—been able to touch Venniver’s mind like this; for Venniver had the rare skill of mind-blocking without ever knowing he did so: latent Seer’s blood, of no use except for this. Now Ram touched Venniver’s greed for power, felt with all his being Venniver’s hunger to enslave, saw the intricate gilded web of religion Venniver had laid like a trap over the minds he ruled; saw Venniver’s fears as well, his awesome terror of Seers and his lusting hunger for their death. Venniver meant to call the service at once, to use the growing fury of the mountains to dramatize this sacrifice before his humble sheep. Ram grinned wryly. The dark leader’s sense of drama was very fine. Ram contained his rising terror with effort, tried in desperation to speak in silence with the Luff’Eresi, prayed to them without calling it prayer. Prayed to whatever might be out there to hear him.

He was led directly beneath the winged statue and made to kneel. Ironic, this statue he had seen a-building, this statue that hid its own secret. The sky was dark with smoke, and with coming night. The wind smelled of burning and of sulphur. You’re not going to die, Ramad my boy! Stop your quaking! He stared up at the statue and thought of Jerthon building it slowly piece by piece, of the slaves digging the tunnel beneath it slowly, every shovelful a triumph over Venniver. He was kneeling only inches from the tunnel’s hidden door. Could he slip down there under cover of darkness?