“I want more.” She paused, wincing at her own impudence. “I am sorry, Father,” she said to Grevelin. “Leader Trentor, it is not enough for me to just exist! I have gained skill with my weapon. I have striven very hard to master it.”
“With the slavers gone,” Trentor said, “mayhap the time will come when giants can return to Skythorn Valley in the south and replant our grain crops there. But you have been away, Avalar. You have not heard of the reports we have received from our ships. The Sherkon Raider fleet has been sighted near Thalus. It is my fear the pirates might try to take that land.”
Slowly Avalar exhaled as she devoured her leader’s every word.
“The Raiders pose a threat to us whenever we sail,” he continued. “They are fierce fighters, Avalar, a greater danger by far than the Sundor Khan in the North, for the Raiders care nothing for the Circle. They live only for the hunt. They would not hesitate to slay a giant, even at the expense of the world. I will need strong warriors to protect our ships and, if necessary, defend Thalus. You are familiar with that land. I am quite sure your skills will be an asset.”
“I can help, too,” Camron ventured. “But someone will need to teach me to use a sword.”
Avalar smiled. “I can do that. We shall commence your training tomorrow.” With hope in her heart, she faced her leader. “Yes! You have my sword. If my father allows it.”
“Ha!” Grevelin barked a laugh over the little human on his lap. “As if I could ever deny you?”
Avalar opened her mouth to answer. Then she stopped.
Her uncle Kurgenrock had crept in behind Ponu and bent to whisper in his ear. At Ponu’s reaction, she leapt to her feet, her stone chair flipping backward with a crash. Ignoring it, Avalar broke away from them all and hurried to the elf.
“What is it, Uncle?” she said. “Ponu, what?”
The mage pursed his lips, trying to appear serious, but as he looked past her to Trentor, his grin returned. “Leader Trentor,” Ponu said formally. “I am saddened to report . . . you now have another human on Hothra Isle!”
“Gaelin!” Avalar gasped. Then she was sprinting out of Freedom Hall, down the icy steps, and across the wooden bridges to the shore. Tiny granules of snow pelted her cheeks, but she did not care.
Ahead lay the gray outline of the docks, darker smudges against the misty sea. There, floating serenely at the end of the nearest pier, rested Dawncutter, her uncle’s ship.
The figure in oversized clothing walking toward her on the wharf was too small and too slight to be a giant. His mouth slanted up on one side, and his rusty-colored hair whipped away from his eyes.
He held no staff, yet Avalar knew him at once. She vaulted onto the pier and rushed toward him.
“You are alive!” Dropping to her knees, she enfolded him in her embrace. “Gaelin Lavahl! How? He took you into the sky! Terrek saw flashes in the clouds above the mountain.”
Gaelin stepped back, smiling, and reached for her, his fingers sliding up to trace the soft curve of her brows. “Well,” he said wryly, “I guess I’m not done yet. Somehow Holram knew. So did Sephrym, who wrapped me in his power when I first started falling so I wouldn’t die.
“You may call me Gaelin Othelion, now. That’s my rightful name.” He patted her arm. “It’s good I don’t smell like magic anymore, or your uncle would never have fished me out of the sea. Look!” From his generous pocket, he drew the Skystone. “Even Mornius’s heart is free!”
Tentatively Avalar reached to touch the gem’s fissured surface with its shimmering layers of blue and violet. “It is beautiful,” she said. “I do not fear it anymore.”
“I’ve decided to accept Terrek’s offer,” Gaelin announced, beaming up at her as he pocketed the stone.
“What offer?” Avalar asked him. “I do not recall.”
She beheld a different Gaelin now, a young man standing tall and strong. He lifted his chin, his jaunty smile and squared shoulders reflecting a confidence she had not seen in him before. Astonished and laughing, she returned his grin.
Gaelin’s eyes sparkled. “Terrek made me a promise, Avalar. He’s going to teach me to ride horses!”
Chapter 69
A SMILE TUGGED at Gaelin’s mouth as he donned his oversized coat and departed the crowded hall. His mind reeled at the sight of so much food in one place, and so many large bodies packed together.
Spotting Ponu on a bluff observing him through the flying snow, Gaelin sighed. There was a tremor in his stomach that, try as he might, he could not quell. He braved the uneven steps, climbing slowly. At last he reached the top of the rocky hillock next to the ocean and stood by Ponu, shuddering at the island’s bitter cold.
Ponu stepped in close. Gaelin smiled in relief when a pocket of heated air gathered around them both. Then the elf seized his wrist and examined his quaking hand.
“I was afraid of this,” Ponu said sadly as Gaelin jerked free. “Your body will have to adjust, Gaelin. You have been exposed to Holram’s power for many years, and now the warder is gone. The Skystone is a pretty bauble from Earth now, and nothing more.”
“Did I really ride an Azkhar?” Gaelin asked. “These weren’t huge like the ones I saw you with at Tierdon.”
“Captain Kurgenrock witnessed your fall,” Ponu said. “So yes, that’s what they were. They were males, Gaelin, which are considerably smaller. The males care for the queens, who spend their lives mostly in the air. It’s rare for any of them to fly in groups, but when they do, they create storms. ‘Shathni fye,’ the giants called it when they rode them.”
Reaching into his pocket, Gaelin withdrew the Skystone. “Could they have wanted this?”
“It is a beautiful keepsake to set on your mantle once you have one,” Ponu said, shrugging. “Gaelin, it is from Earth. It has no magic.”
“So everything I did is gone like it never happened. It made me sick, and what have I to show for it? Oh look, I have a bauble.”
“Petulant child! In addition to healing the afflicted and sparing humankind from a future with Erebos, you also saved Avalar’s life and the lives of her people. That sword would not exist if not for your staff, and the giants would not exist if not for that sword—nor would this world!
“Yes, it was Holram’s power. But it was your actions that hurled the magic and melted the stones, and ultimately made it possible for that song to exist, to stir a child’s heart and motivate her to help her leader liberate her people. Is that not enough for you?” Ponu demanded.
“Now.” Leaning close, he met Gaelin’s faltering glare. “If you want confirmation your actions made a difference, just take in the world around you every morning when you open your eyes and climb out of bed. They are calling you a hero. And so you are.” He gestured to Govorian’s Hall, its walls reverberating with the clamor of the celebration within. “We should get back inside. You are not well. But since the giants are feasting in your honor, perhaps you can make an appearance before I whisk you off to Heartwood.”
Gaelin gnawed at his lower lip. “Do you really think they can heal me? Is that what you hope?”
“It is. The Seekers have healing lore the other elf tribes on this world have lost. There is very little they cannot do. And”—grinning, Ponu patted his pockets—“I also have a trick or two up my sleeve. I have potions and powders in mind. And when you do get stronger, I will hie you off to Vale Horse, where you will live in a comfortable home of your own for the rest of your days.”
“You mean I’ll have a room,” Gaelin corrected. “I’m not a—”
Ponu’s snort cut him off. “If I had meant ‘room,’ I would have said ‘room.’ No, you will have a home, Gaelin Othelion. Terrek Florne intends to have one built. You will have that freedom you have always longed for. You will want for nothing!”
Gaelin frowned. “I don’t want to be pampered! I want to work and earn wages like everyone else and be normal! I want to build things and learn to ride and wield a sword.”
Ponu laughed. “First, we
need to get you well! And the best way to begin is to eat!” Grinning, he held out his hand. “Come, brave warrior from Thalus. Shall we rejoin the big people?”
Gaelin looked past the elf’s white wings to find Avalar standing below in her formal tunic, leggings, and shiny black boots, her expression filled with concern. “Gaelin? What are you doing out here?”
Swaying on his feet, Gaelin reached for the boulder that slanted across the stairway, but Ponu’s hand stopped him, catching his elbow.
“He’s exhausted,” Ponu said to the worried young giant. “I was hoping to bring him inside, but I think it would be better for him if we take our leave now.”
Avalar nodded. “I will inform Leader Trentor that you had to depart,” she said in a husky voice. “Gaelin, will I ever see you?”
“Of course you will.” Ponu retrieved his crystal staff from where he had propped it against the wall.
“I shall,” Avalar reassured herself. “Of course I shall. I have you, Ponu, and you can fly me anywhere.” She knelt and pulled Gaelin into her powerful embrace. “Be strong and get well, Gaelin Othelion,” she breathed into his ear. “I wish . . .”
Gaelin smiled as she let him go, as Ponu urged him closer to the staff. “I wish, too,” he said. “Thank you, Avalar, for being my friend.”
The giant nodded, tears glistening on her cheeks. As the Staff of Time bucked, Gaelin staggered, its shower of sparks replacing the giant’s kind face. Ponu’s magic showed him the here and now, with flashes of possible futures.
Idly Gaelin wondered in which one he would live.
About the Author
Raised on a tree nursery next to Farmer Green’s cornfield in Waukesha, Wisconsin, and then relocated as a child to the Pacific NW, Diane has been a dreamer all her life. She finds the greatest happiness both in nature and in far-off, imagined places—often within the pages of a favorite book. Diane is currently hard at work on the sequel and plans to continue the adventure through future books set on the magical world of Talenkai.
A Note to My Readers
I began writing Song of Mornius two decades ago. I was in the process of trying to get the final draft published when unforeseen events got in the way. I had some battles of my own to fight, during which my computer crashed. When I finally went back to look for my story, I discovered I had lost almost all of it. I could only find a few printed chapters from an old draft.
As I worked to reconstruct my life, my creative spark returned. I began to reinvent the book, and gradually this endeavor helped me to find myself. I remembered how much I loved writing and the friends I discovered within the pages.
The process of restoring Song of Mornius represents, for me, a long battle coming to a triumphant end, and the start of a whole new journey. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story.
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