Song Of Mornius

by Diane E Steinbach

  She screamed and staggered back. “What is my name?” she cried hoarsely. “Who am I now?”

  “Avalar,” said a stern, quiet voice.

  She spun toward it with a snarl, for the sound came from the level of her hip, and the accent was human. She charged into the light by the intruder and slammed against the wall.

  A man stepped from the brightness, unlike any she had ever beheld. Instead of robes, he wore armor on his breast and thighs, with a cloak of fur across his shoulders and back. Smiling kindly, he spread his hands so that she could see he wielded no magic, nor did he carry staff or sword.

  She crouched low, snarling, her fingers digging long furrows in the mud by her feet. “This time, I shall not miss!” she spat, and driven by instinct, she raised the blade.

  “Avalar Mistavere,” he said. With slow measured steps, he advanced. “That is your name, Giant. Avalar Mistavere. Your father is Grevelin Mistavere. You were a friend to my brother, Camron Florne.”

  She backed away, the weapon clattering to the floor. This, too, was a delusion, more magic toying with her mind. “My name is . . .”

  He nodded. “You see? You do know yourself. You dropped your sword so you wouldn’t hurt me. Giants from your time never attack defenseless people. Avalar, you found the mines for us. Good girl! But Gaelin needs your help. We all do. To help,” he repeated. “Isn’t that the chosen purpose of your people?”

  Avalar listened as he spoke, his voice oddly comforting to her heart.

  “I need you, Giant,” he told her. “You couldn’t save Camron, but you tried, remember? That means something to me. You mean something to me. Avalar, now you’re giving me your aid like you couldn’t for Camron. And I need you. Please stay.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “They slew my children,” she moaned, “my babies!”

  “Avalar,” he said. “You don’t have children.” He grimaced as he glanced toward the bones. “Somebody else must have lost her young ones. Perhaps that lonely mother’s memory stirs in you now, but this is your life to live, not hers. The Bloodsword spoke to you, remember? You live on Hothra with your father, Grevelin. You sailed here to fight for freedom for your people.”

  Shifting on her heels, she peered through her tears into the tunnel. “Camron?” she whispered. “He . . .”

  “That’s right.” The man urged her to her knees. She realized from his touch what he was—a human free, unwarped by magic.

  “Leader . . . Terrek?”

  “Yes, Leader Terrek, and I would never hurt you,” he reassured her. “Nor have I given you my permission to leave me just yet.” He smiled ruefully as he leaned to examine her fingers. “You’re bleeding. We’ll get Vyergin to fix that.”

  Peering up, Terrek squinted at his men kneeling above. “She’s all right for now. Vyergin and Gaelin, climb down. It’s not far. Just grab on to the edge and . . .” He paused. “Or perhaps our friend here can lift you.” At her puzzled glance, he patted her wrist. “It may help you stay in the present. Roth, you and the guards gather what supplies we can use in the tunnels. We won’t need much. Just water and food and some blankets. According to Kildoren, we needn’t worry about the shan. They’ll know when it’s time to go home.”

  Shakily, Avalar stood. “I will assist,” she said. Moving into the light, she extended her hands, catching a pair of legs as an older human—Vyergin, she recalled—lowered a smaller man into her embrace. She blinked at him as she set him on his feet. “You are Gaelin Lavahl,” she said softly. Then she reached for the woman she remembered was their prisoner.

  Gaelin stayed her arm. “Terrek Florne,” Holram’s voice intoned. “Before you proceed, I must warn you. You need to know Erebos is joined to this human, Felrina Vlyn. He linked with her to savor her death, but she never perished, so his connection endures.”

  Holram paused, and Gaelin’s human eyes filled with sorrow. “Erebos sent the dachs because, through her, he learned of our location. Here within his mountain, this ceases to matter; he will perceive where we are through me. Yet he can still benefit from this link with her in other ways. He will hear us and gain knowledge of our plans.”

  “Does she know?” Terrek asked sharply. “Is she working for him?”

  “I discerned Erebos’s essence within her when I healed her,” Holram said. “I presumed it was nothing more than an imprint of her lengthy exposure to him. Yet when the dachs attacked she never woke. Not even when we began traveling . . . ah, I see you noticed that as well. She is a window; that is my word for it. As Ponu is a window for Sephrym, and Gaelin is for me, so Erebos is using Felrina Vlyn. By inducing deep sleep in her, he has left her with no way to resist him, and no way to know.”

  Terrek growled. Glancing up, he met Avalar’s stare. “You may receive her now, Giant. And if you would, help Vyergin, too.”

  Avalar, gesturing to the captain to bring their prisoner within her reach, listened hard as the warder conversed with Terrek.

  “You must slay her,” said Holram. The warder’s soft, alien voice, heavy with regret, floated across the shaft. “She is a danger to all of you.”

  “But I promised her leniency,” Terrek protested. “I can’t just . . . That would be beyond cruel.”

  “It would be,” Holram agreed. “Yet here in Erebos’s mountain, he could possess her physically. She could lose herself and slit your throats the moment you try to sleep. Terrek Florne, the future of your species could be decided should you fail to act.”

  “I’m little more than a ranch hand,” Terrek said. “For the sake of my father and my city, I’ve endeavored to be more by leading patrols and defending Kideren. But I cannot kill an unarmed wo—”

  He broke off as Avalar swung both the still-groggy Felrina and Brant Vyergin to the floor. Then Avalar stiffened, beholding the tunnel around her as it actually was. The crawling insects were gone. Even the mud she had gouged with her fingers was frozen hard. She winced at the bloody ruin she had made of her nails.

  The packs were being dropped from above, landing with tiny explosions of dust. Again Avalar reached up, this time to deliver Roth in his tall black hat to his commander, followed by the two guards, a grunt escaping her as she placed the wide-girthed Silva on his feet. Then she paused, detecting the conflict in her leader’s gaze as he focused on Gaelin.

  “It occurs to me,” Terrek said loudly, “we’ve been traveling in the wrong direction. This isn’t the mountain we want.”

  “It isn’t?” Roth slanted a questioning look at Terrek. “But the . . .”

  Avalar stood. Terrek’s stare bored into her, demanding something from her. Abruptly she started, remembering Holram’s warning to Terrek. “Felrina Vlyn,” she said firmly. “Come here.”

  Felrina, by reflex, raised and crossed her wrists as though expecting to be retied, just as Terrek lunged for her head. With one fluid motion, he seized her jaw. There was a dull, wet splinter of bone as he brutally twisted, and she slumped to the ground.

  “Terrek!” Vyergin stumbled; appalled, he sank to his knees.

  Roth goggled at the crumpled, twitching form. Terrek nodded. “Happy now? She’s paid the price you wanted her to pay, hasn’t she? Sorry if it wasn’t messy enough for you.”

  “She deserved a trial, Terrek!” said Vyergin thickly. “We don’t just . . . What have you done?”

  “The last thing I wanted to do,” Terrek said bitterly. “But it had to be done, Brant.”

  At their feet, Felrina’s chest heaved with agonal breathing. Her body, reaved of life, was shutting down.

  Terrek knelt beside her, gently pulling the hair from her mouth. “You’ve never seen someone killed outright before, have you, Roth? It’s not quite the way you imagined, is it? One moment she’s alive, breathing and feeling, perhaps even cherishing some hopes for herself, and then . . .” Terrek snapped his fingers.

  Sinking to his knees, Roth sagged toward the wall and quietly retched.

  Avalar staggered dizzily. The tunnel seemed to slant all at once and be
gin to close in. Numbly she bent to inspect her pack, her mind reeling while she fought with the straps. Around her, the guards and Vyergin followed her example, feigning a sudden obsession with their provisions.

  Terrek reached out to grip Gaelin’s shoulder. “Holram,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the warder’s name, “are you still here with me?”

  Gaelin, his eyes glazed and groggy, bobbed his head in response, padding softly toward the woman on the floor. Woodenly he sank to his knees, his hand dropping to her brow. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes.

  “Is he gone?” Terrek questioned.

  “Gone,” said Holram without looking up. “Shall I restore her?”

  “Yes, please do,” said Terrek.

  The warder bent, and Mornius flickered and flashed, the Skystone’s radiance filling the tunnel. Felrina jerked, coughing as she thrashed with the animal instinct to flee danger.

  With a touch, the warder soothed her. Climbing to his feet, he drew Felrina up with him, supporting her while she wobbled and lurched. She pressed against his arm, her frantic gaze darting from Avalar to Terrek and then back to Holram.

  Terrek cleared his throat in the shocked silence. “Felrina Vlyn,” he scolded gently. “That’s twice now you have fainted. What have you to say for yourself?”

  As Felrina turned to face him, Lord Argus’s scowl appeared in Avalar’s peripheral vision. Bending down, she squinted into the shaft’s murky depths until she spotted the ghost, his visage shrinking to the size of a pea as it wavered and vanished.

  “I fainted?” Felrina rubbed her brow.

  “Yes, you did,” Terrek lied. “Didn’t I tell you to keep up your strength?” When Argus reappeared, grinning slyly as he materialized directly over their heads, Terrek gestured at Roth to follow the ghost. The young man complied, his complexion pale as he hurried into the passage after the dead knight’s emerald light.

  “You didn’t wake during the battle, either,” Terrek went on, “and that could have gotten you killed. From now on, you eat what you are given, Felrina, and no sneaking off by yourself to purge it, either. Yes, Avalar has also reported that to me.”

  Dazed, Felrina blinked at her feet.

  “Can you walk?” Vyergin inquired abruptly.

  Avalar shot a questioning glance at Gaelin. He was himself again, she realized, for the heat she had sensed from his bones was gone—the fierce burning of Holram’s fire.

  “Everyone walks.” Terrek moved to the packs and hefted the largest. “And everyone carries something, too.”

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Vyergin whispered.

  “I’ll explain it to you later,” Terrek said. He turned toward his prisoner. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  Trembling, Felrina nodded. As timidly she regarded the mine’s depths, Avalar guessed at her thoughts. Somewhere down the tunnel, a madman awaited her, ready and eager to deliver more hurt.

  “Come.” Stepping close, Terrek clasped the woman’s arm.

  Chapter 48

  AVALAR FOLLOWED AT a crouch behind her human companions, slowing when the tangled roots that clogged the narrowed shaft forced her onto her knees.

  The air was musty, heavy with the stench of moldering roots and soil. In her memory, this passage had been maintained, its threads of gildstone motivating the cult to drive her enslaved people—primarily the children in this cramped section—to cripple their bodies harvesting the garish metal. Over time, pressure from the ceaselessly dripping moisture had eroded the rock, bringing with it fungi and dirt, and a slimy substance that squished beneath her hands.

  She ducked low, her gaze on Argus’s distant light. Far up the tunnel, she heard the ringing of Roth’s machete while he labored to clear their path. Argus reclined in the air above the lieutenant and the guards, his phantom arms behind his head, his verdant glow sheening off the roots Roth hacked with his club-shaped sword.

  “It’s so dark,” Gaelin said. “Like when I was in the cellar.”

  “Put it out of your thoughts, Gaelin,” urged Terrek.

  “Argus is too far ahead. Why can’t he stay in the middle so we can see?”

  “You’re in front and you get to see a great deal more than we do,” said Terrek. “Avalar can’t catch up if she’s blind. I think now would be a good time to ask Holram . . .” He paused. “I know very little when it comes to warders. But from what I understand, they guide the creation of suns, do they not?”

  “Only mature warders do that,” Gaelin corrected. “Holram was too young. He could protect his star; that’s all. He warded the sun and Earth and—”

  “Well then!” Terrek cut in. “If Holram can do all that, perhaps he might like to do a little wardering here for us? You’re holding his Skystone. Why not kindle it so Avalar can see?”

  “I’ve been trying to reserve my strength,” Gaelin protested. “We’re expecting a battle, aren’t we?”

  “Gaelin Lavahl,” Avalar said. “This foul air pains my chest. If I were to see what lies before me, mayhap I could travel more swiftly away from—”

  “It could get worse,” Felrina interjected. “Some of these b-burrows have collapsed. If this is one, you will have to d-d-dig through it, and the air beyond would be stale, w-worse than if you had brought that torch. The disruption of air could excite the spores they planted here to keep out intruders. They are poison.”

  Gaelin, moving faster now, thumped his staff on the soggy ground between the twisted roots. Avalar sighed as she crawled on all fours behind Terrek, seeing no hint of light from the staff’s lifeless crown. Resignedly, she felt with her hands as she went, squirming over the slimy obstacles in her way as gunk collected beneath her shredded nails. Now I shall be reeking, she thought morosely, when at last I am led to fulfill my destiny. I will—

  “Blazes!” Gaelin cried. There was a scrambling noise, followed by a soft groan.

  “If you’re tripping in the darkness,” Terrek said sharply, “try to imagine how it might be for a giant!”

  Avalar grinned despite herself at a sudden sputter from the Skystone, the staff in Gaelin’s hand rousing at last.

  She studied the dirt at her feet, observing the patterns of fungi clearly now, the pea-green caps of tiny mushrooms glowing blue beneath Mornius. As the two humans surged to shorten the distance between them and the others, Avalar held back, plucking the wrinkled tops of the mushrooms from their stems and stuffing them into her pocket. It was instinct, some inner compulsion she could not fathom. Mayhap a memory? she thought with a shudder.

  The humans were huddled in a group as she approached, with Gaelin holding his staff aloft. Terrek shifted closer to Vyergin as if to deliberately block her view.

  She nodded at his concern, at the nervous tension of the men. The prisoner, Felrina, was even paler than she had been before. “You fear for me,” Avalar said. “Have you discovered another dead child?”

  “This one’s a bit older, I think,” Terrek murmured. “But not by much. It’s bad enough they would enslave your people, Avalar. But your children, too?”

  “The littlest ones were called ‘sniffers,’ ” she said. “The slavers would take the babies at birth to train them to hunt for magic, and through them our captors found powers within this mountain. They uncovered the bloodstones, the life of this world that absorbs all magic, and learned how to use them. They did not care that the stones drained the children to death. Each child was trained to withstand the loss of their magic long enough to retrieve one stone apiece before they died.”

  Felrina stared up. “Are you telling us that every stone . . . every stone in those staves the black-robes carry, represents a child’s death?”

  Recognizing pain on the woman’s earnest face, Avalar bit down on her retort. “Yes,” she answered softly.

  Terrek took her hand, his brow furrowed with worry. “Avalar, perhaps the time has come for you to go. Giant, I don’t want you to be—”

  “No!” Avalar ground out the word. “The time has not come! The world
was birthed on the shoulders of giants. Mayhap it will end for the failure of mine. Still I must try, Leader Terrek. When I was yet a child, the bloodstone sword, Redeemer, roused something in my heart. I remembered what giants are supposed to be! I have borne this all my life, right here.” She pressed her fist to her breastplate. “I will not falter, or turn on you a second time. I swear it. Nor will I be dissuaded from my path!”

  Terrek chewed his lip. “I have no idea what’s coming next. What if we can’t protect you and you die? What happens to the world?”

  “I am not here for your protection.” Avalar gestured toward Gaelin and lowered her voice. “If he fails, our lives will mean naught. All of us will perish.”

  Gaelin squatted among the men, his staff glowing ominously bright. The others stepped back, leery of the warder’s power. As they did, Avalar saw the reason for their desire to shield her.

  The child’s skeleton lay in pieces, the fragile bone of its orbits and upper skull punctured and torn away. “Grakan,” Avalar said. “The slavers always brought two.”

  She gasped as the boy’s image materialized in a sparkling mist only she could see, his gray eyes luminous as he returned her gaze. “He is too old to be a sniffer,” she said to the humans. “He must have displeased his captors.”

  Swift as a blink, the two grakan tore the legs out from under the youngster. Her eyes welling, she watched him fall. He lay silent, his stare fixed on the ceiling, his blood spreading across the stone as the great bears ripped him apart.

  “Avalar?” The vision frayed as Terrek tugged at her wrist, merging with the dust motes in Argus’s light. Avalar strained to focus past Terrek—to see the bones and not the child, the fragile remains on the floor.

  She faced the wall, letting its tilted contours guide her consciousness beyond her friends. A painful groaning reached from her memories, the unending grind of her people’s toil.