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

“I—hear you well.” Venniver glanced up sideways at the gods, then looked down again; his great breadth and height, the bulk of the man, which always made others look puny, had gone. He seemed a small, shrinking figure now before these magnificent beings. For an instant, the thunder of the mountains drowned all else. Fire leaped skyward in the east, and at that sign the men of Burgdeeth moaned as if all their pent-up terror was suddenly freed into sound. They knelt moaning before the gods; and Venniver’s deacons knelt; and the Luff’Eresi thundered, “From now hence for all time you will bring the Seers to us! Do you understand, pig of Burgdeeth?”

“I understand.”

“I understand, master!”

Among the kneeling crowd, some of Venniver’s soldiers had begun to rise now, and to slip fearfully away, seeking their horses, seeking escape. The Luff’Eresi ignored them.

“Open your mind, Venniver of Burgdeeth, and we will mark the path you will take to bring the prisoners to us! For you will bring them—all of them—to the death stone outside of Eresu. There we will deal with them. One transgression, Venniver of Burgdeeth, one omission, and your own death will be so long and painful an experience that you will beg to die!

“And think not,” cried the Luff’Eresi as one, “that we will not know what you do here. We see your petty intrigues, human! We see your insignificant thoughts!

“You will not defy us again, pig of Burgdeeth.”

Ram felt a stir of air, looked up to see the silver stallion plummeting down out of the sky, heard the indrawn breath of men as they dared to look up, in spite of the gods’ radiance, to see the winged stallion descend. The stallion came at once to Ram, and he swung himself up between the great wings, stared down at Venniver’s white face, at the awe-struck sheep, and tried to look as submissive and captive as possible, though his spirit was soaring with this taste of triumph and freedom. As the stallion whirled, he saw a handful of men riding hard away from Burgdeeth, saw them felled suddenly. They lay unmoving as their riderless horses fled. And then suddenly the silver stallion leaped skyward and Ram was lifted, was windborne on the night sky between the stallion’s sweeping wings, surrounded by light and by the wild exalted laughter of the Luff’Eresi, filling Ram’s mind with joy.

*

In the ruins, Jerthon lifted his head from deepest concentration. Ram was safe, Ram had lifted free of Burgdeeth. He saw tears in Tayba’s eyes. Skeelie was leaning, pale with her effort, against the sill of the portal. She turned from him abruptly, swung out of the room, was gone. Jerthon could sense her striding along the corridor toward the citadel. She would kneel there alone, would pray, would thank whatever there was to thank that Ramad was safe.

Tayba’s voice was no more than a whisper, so shaken was she with her effort, with the fear that had gripped her. With the wonder of that moment when the gods had spoken. For they had all Seen the gods clearly, Seen Venniver quail before the Luff’Eresi. The five of them had stared at each other in wild exaltation. “Was it . . .” Tayba whispered now. “Is it the power of the gods that we feel, Jerthon? Or the power of the mountains, as you said?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps—perhaps both.” He studied her quietly. “But this . . . this I know. That power—and I feel it still, do you not?” She nodded. ‘That power, whatever it is . . .” He did not need to finish, they all knew, they lifted their faces in sudden eagerness at his thoughts:

Yes! This power must not be wasted! This power must be used, and now. Used while it flowed strong, while they felt it buoying them, urging them on. “We will arm at once,” Jerthon said softly. “Ready supplies, men, horses. We will ride for Pelli in a day’s time. Now is the moment to destroy the Pellian Seers if ever we are to do it!”

They stared at him, lifted and renewed. To attack Pelli, to attack the dark Seers and the Hape. Yes! As one, Tayba and Drudd and Pol turned, preparing to depart, to give orders for supplies, for preparations. Jerthon stopped them with a quiet thought. They stood watching him, waiting. “There—there is enough power, if it holds, to block our thoughts from Skeelie. She—she will be wanting badly to ride out before dawn. A vision touches me . . .” He looked at them, questioning. The others felt out Tayba nodded, then Drudd and Pol. “Yes,” Jerthon said. “Skeelie will touch that vision, she will soon know that Ram will come to Blackcob—come in some need. She—would be with him then. I think—I think she should go unknowing.” Again there were nods of agreement. If Skeelie knew about the attack on Pelli, Ram would know soon; she could not keep such a thing from Ram’s mind as long as this sudden power surrounded them. They could keep it from Ram, perhaps, but Skeelie never could. Yes, the next moments, the next day, would be a time that might never come again for Ram. The next hours might never be remade, would be gone all too soon.