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

Of course he could, with six deacons and the entire populace of Burgdeeth crowding around him! And even if he did escape, what of his careful plan to save the Children of Burgdeeth? He clung to his faith in the Luff’Eresi as Venniver shouted for firewood and coal to be brought at once to the temple.

*

Skeelie slept sprawled out across her bed every which way, woke suddenly, sat up, saw that the moons outside the stone portal had risen but hung muted as if they were covered by gray gauze. She heard the distant rumbling then and felt sudden, sharp fear. And she Saw, in a clear vision, torches flaring and Ram forced through Burgdeeth’s square, and she knew he was meant to die. Her voice caught, was half scream, “Ram! Ramad!” Why was he in Burgdeeth, why had he gone to Burgdeeth? She rose to stare blindly out at the sea trying to bring a force that would help him, trying to turn away his captors, to force her power upon them. . . .

Uselessly. Uselessly.

Had the gods refused him, had he gone to Burgdeeth then, alone, with some wild plan? The vision ceased abruptly as Ram was forced up the steps of the temple. She stared blindly at the sea, then stirred, struck flint, and ran barefoot down the corridor to Tayba’s room.

The door was open. Tayba was pacing, her dark hair loose, her slim hands holding the runestone. The moonlight caught at it as she turned; Jerthon stood in shadow with Drudd and Pol. All of them had seen the vision. Tayba looked up at Skeelie, said softly, “Ram has spoken with the gods.” She shuddered, continued.

“The gods would have him do this, Skeelie. He is . . . Ram is a decoy. He . . . They will rescue him, they will not let him die. Or so—so Ram believes.” She turned suddenly to Jerthon. “Why did the vision come just now, so clear? What made the dark pull away? Is Ram—is Ram in such danger that in spite of the dark, the very force of his fear makes us able to See? Is he . . . ?”

Jerthon shook his head, his green eyes dark in the dulled moonlight; far off the mountains rumbled. “The earth speaks, Tayba, listen to it. The fires of the mountains speak.” How strange his voice was. “Maybe that is what gives us this sudden power. If . . .” He looked deeply at Tayba, his excitement leaping between them. “If the fires of the mountain can part the dark—can we use that force to help Ram?”

“We—we must try. We . . .

He seemed very remote for a moment. “I think that the power in the mountains is a force not of good or of evil. A force unknowing and uncaring of both. Somehow—perhaps by our constant vigilance, by our very concern for Ram, perhaps by Ram’s fear itself, we have drawn that power to the side of good. Now—yes, now we must use it for Ram.”

They stood in silence reaching with their minds and with the power of the stone, the five of them willing Ram’s safety. Skeelie clung with her very soul to that power of the mountain, bent her will stubbornly and humbly to draw upon that power, forced her own meager strength to battle for Ram’s life harder than ever she had as a child, when she had fought so desperately to keep the dark back.

 

 

 

EIGHT

 

In the castle of Hape, the battle to control the raw power of the mountains stilled the dark Seers so they seemed as stone. The Hape itself was not visible, but its force was linked with the Seers; and even so the dark powers faltered. For now the Seers of Carriol held power. And on the mountains, fire spewed like blood, fiery rivers oozing down along the valleys burning scrub so grass could spring anew: fires renewing by killing; and the night sky was heavy with smoke as flame burst from far peaks.

In Burgdeeth, while the mountains rumbled with mute voices, Ram was forced up the temple steps—thinking of Telien, thinking now only of Telien somewhere among those fires. And inside the temple the silent citizens knelt with bowed heads and righteous thoughts, anticipating the ritual of the Seer’s death by fire, so anticipating their own sacred redemption.

Ram had been stripped naked and his hands and legs bound with leather thongs. He was led hobbling to the altar, the leather biting into his ankles, and there he was forced to kneel. His fear of death rose again in spite of his control, as Venniver stood above him, blank of expression, robed in ceremonial white. On the dais behind the red-robed deacons, wood and charcoal had been laid against the tall iron stake. Venniver’s voice rose to echo in the domed temple. “The gods speak!”

The people answered as one, “The gods speak.”

“The gods command the Seer’s death!”

“They command death!”

“Evil must be destroyed by fire, by the cleansing fire!”

“The fire! The sacred fire!”

Ram was chilled, but sweating. Venniver’s voice rang like thunder through the temple. “Those with the curse of Ynell, those with the curse of Seeing, are as filth upon the land!”

“The fire! The sacred fire!”