“Come, my son,” she said. “We are fleeing this terrible place!”
“You can’t leave us here!” Aylaen said angrily.
“It’s your own fault. I warned you of the danger,” Emerenta returned. She added grudgingly, “If you manage to reach the tower alive, you will be safe. Wulfe, come with me!”
“Go with her, Wulfe,” said Skylan.
The One Eyes were rapidly approaching. He measured the distance to the tower. They’d have to make a run for it.
Wulfe shook his head. “I’m staying with you.”
“You are stubborn, just like your father!” Emerenta said. Bending down, she whispered something into his ear, then straightened. “Remember!”
“I will, Mother,” said Wulfe. Throwing his arms around her, he hugged her tightly.
“My brave prince!” Emerenta kissed him on the top of the head and then, with a fearful glance at the approaching monsters, she flew away.
“I’ll bring you a present!” Wulfe called after her.
Emerenta fluttered her hand in response, but did not look back.
“Good riddance,” Skylan muttered, but in a low voice, so that Wulfe wouldn’t hear. He cast another glance at the One Eyes, who had slowed their flight to scan the ground below, their single eyes sweeping back and forth as they searched among the ruins.
Skylan went back to look for his sword and found it buried to the hilt in the belly of chimera. He yanked it free and wiped it in the weeds to clean it, then, keeping to the shadows, they continued their climb to the tower. The One Eyes were still searching, coming ever closer, and Skylan recalled the man he’d seen in the tower. Was he in there now, watching them? Ready to help them? Lying in wait for them?
Skylan caught up with Wulfe. “I need to talk to you.”
“Put the sword away,” said Wulfe, hanging back.
Skylan sheathed his sword. “Do you know how to get back home?”
Wulfe nodded. “Mother told me the magic spell. I go back to that house and sing a song she taught me. Do you want to hear it?”
“Not now,” Skylan said, adding in a low voice, “If something happens to me, I want you to take Aylaen and Farinn home with you.”
Wulfe eyed Skylan, frowning. “What’s going to happen to you?”
“Nothing, I hope,” said Skylan. “Promise?”
“I’ll take them,” Wulfe said. “But my mother will likely keep Farinn.”
Somewhat reassured, Skylan studied the lay of the land they had to cross to reach the tower. For a short distance they could continue in the shadow of the wall, but at some point they would have to leave the shadows and emerge into the open.
The moon was just setting, but the night was clear, the stars bright, and the One Eyes had not given up the search. They lifted their heads, sniffing the air.
Skylan called a halt. The tower was perhaps thirty paces away. The stone walls were luminescent; they seemed to shine as if with a memory of the moonlight. He stared at the smooth stone, faintly gleaming, lighting up the area all around the tower, and realized they had a problem. Another problem.
“Where’s the entrance?” Skylan wondered, startled. “The One Eyes will spot us the moment we break cover and we’ll need to take cover quickly.”
“The door must be on one of the other sides,” said Aylaen.
“We can’t go racing about the building searching for the door,” said Skylan. “You stay here. I’ll go—”
“Are you blind? It’s right there,” said Wulfe, jabbing his finger in the direction of the tower.
“No, it isn’t—” Skylan began, then stopped.
For there was a door. Standing wide open.
Wulfe fidgeted. “Hurry! Let’s go! I want to see what’s inside.”
“I don’t like this. First there’s no a door, now there is,” Skylan said. “Who’s to say the door won’t vanish the moment we get there.”
“We don’t have a choice, Skylan,” said Aylaen.
The One Eyes had quit sniffing the air and were now flying rapidly in their direction. Wulfe dropped down on all fours and began dashing across the ground toward the tower. The moment he left the shadows, the One Eyes saw him.
Skylan touched his amulet and, taking Aylaen’s hand, broke into a run.
“Go on ahead!” Skylan yelled at Farinn, who was not burdened by armor or weapons and could run faster. “Keep that damn door open!”
Farinn dashed on ahead. Skylan and Aylaen raced after him and saw Wulfe disappear into the building with Farinn right behind him. The door was still there and it was still open. Skylan glanced back at the One Eyes, who were gaining. He was thinking they just might make it when one of the monsters opened its maw and spat a huge gout of saliva at him.
The liquid struck him in the back and knocked him to the ground. The acid burned his flesh and he writhed in the grass, trying to wipe it off him.
Aylaen knelt by his side.
“Don’t touch me!” he said through gritted teeth. “Keep going!”
“Not without you!” Aylaen said firmly.
She drew her sword and stood over him until he could regain his feet. Skylan pushed himself up off the ground and caught hold of Aylaen. Together they ran from the monsters, who were now so close he could hear the creaking wings and smell the putrid breath.
Farinn was running back toward them. Wulfe was jumping up and down and yelling. Skylan looked back to see a single eye glaring at him. He shoved Aylaen into Farinn’s arms and then turned to face the monster.
Jaws gaped and saliva drooled. Hot breath washed over him.
The sky burst into dazzling white fire. Stars fell down all around him.
CHAPTER
29
Skylan ran through the broken streets of the ruined city trying to reach Aylaen. He knew where she was, yet every time he came to the street that led to her, he found his way blocked by piles of rubble.
“Skylan!” she cried.
“Where are you?” he shouted.
“I am right here,” said Aylaen.
Skylan opened his eyes to find her sitting next to him. He blinked and looked around. He was lying in a bed in a darkened room. A fire burned low in a grate, giving off only a faint light. The fire shimmered in Aylaen’s hair as she turned her head to speak to a person who was bending over the fire, poking at the embers.
“Are you all right?” Skylan asked. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” said Aylaen. “I remember you shoving me into Farinn and then the stars fell and that is all I remember until Owl Mother woke me.”
“Owl Mother!” Skylan sat bolt upright and stared about in confusion. “What is she doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” said Owl Mother.
She left the fire and shuffled over to stand at the end of the bed, crossing her arms and scowling at him. She was exactly the same as he remembered her. Her white hair, twisted into a single untidy braid, trailed down her back. She wore the same plain smock over a plain dress, tied at the waist with a leather belt. She had always claimed to be the oldest person in the village, saying she had the wrinkles to prove it. With her beaked nose and fierce eyes, she looked very much like her namesake.
He left the bed and realized, as he stood up, that he felt no pain. His wounds and injuries were healed. Far from reassuring him, this made him feel more unease.
“This makes no sense,” he said. “How could you know we were coming? We didn’t know ourselves.”
“You had to come sooner or later,” said Owl Mother, adding testily, “Although I did think you might slip in quietly, not wake the whole city. You’ve put me to a good deal of trouble.”
She shook her finger at him. “You owe me a day’s work, son of Norgaard!”
She snorted and returned to poking the fire.
Skylan glowered at her back. “But how did we get here? What happened? And where are we anyway?”
Owl Mother gestured to Aylaen. “You tell him. I’ll fix something to eat. Come, young F
arinn, and give me a hand.”
She disappeared behind a tapestry on which the strange warriors were fighting their never-ending battle. Farinn rose from a chair by the grate where he had been sitting and hurried after her.
Skylan looked at Aylaen. “Do you know where we are?”
“We are in Tsa Kerestra,” she said. “I don’t know how we came to be here or what happened back at the tower. Wulfe says Owl Mother’s magic made the stars fall and saved our lives. Owl Mother says the tower is called Starfall Tower for a reason and we were fools to trust Wulfe’s harebrained mother.”
“Where is Wulfe?” Skylan asked, realizing that he had not seen the boy.
“Owl Mother told him to go back to the tower, make it look as if the fae folk were the ones who caused all the commotion.”
“Wulfe lived with Owl Mother for a time, back in the village,” said Skylan. “But that doesn’t explain…”
He shook his head.
Aylaen drew near him and clasped his hand. “It doesn’t explain anything. It’s all so strange. I don’t know what’s going on. Owl Mother won’t tell me.”
“Magic,” said Skylan grimly. “The sooner we’re away from here the better.”
He walked over to the tapestry and reached out to push past it, then paused. The last time he’d been in Owl Mother’s house, he had encountered a wyvern behind the tapestry. He let his hand fall and spoke to the tapestry.
“Aylaen tells me that we are in Tsa Kerestra, Owl Mother,” said Skylan.
“Hold that open for me,” Owl Mother said, startling him by suddenly flinging the tapestry aside.
Skylan held the tapestry. She came through carrying a large platter of roasted meat. Slamming the platter down on the table, she headed back to the kitchen.
“We are here to speak to the Stormlords,” said Skylan.
“You are,” Owl Mother returned.
She disappeared behind the tapestry. Farinn came out holding a trencher on which was a loaf of freshly baked bread, still warm. He was pale and shaken.
“What’s wrong?” Skylan asked.
Setting the bread on the table, Farinn said in a low voice, “There’s no hearth, no cook fire! No kettle. Not even a table! There’s nothing in that room except a door and a window.”
“Then where did this food come from?” Skylan asked.
Farinn gave him a helpless glance and shook his head. Owl Mother entered through the tapestry and fixed Farinn with a stern eye, causing him to flush guiltily and nearly drop the trencher. There were no plates, the forks were made from deer antlers, and the cups were formed out of birch bark. She put a crockery pitcher on the table and spoke a word. Three candles burst into flame.
Skylan glanced around. The small dwelling was almost exactly like her hut in the Torgun village, simple and crudely built with few furnishings. Yet he had the feeling this was not her home. The dwelling felt cold, as though no one had lit a fire in a long time. The floor was swept, but there was dust in the corners. There was no life. No squirrel chattering from the back of the chair, no wolf slumbering in front of the door.
“Eat,” said Owl Mother.
She sat in one of the only two chairs and indicated Aylaen sit in the other. Farinn perched on the end of the bed. Owl Mother offered Skylan a footstool, but he remained standing, not about to be deterred from his purpose.
“I said I want to speak to the Stormlords,” he repeated.
“And I said you are speaking to a Stormlord,” Owl Mother returned.
Skylan was angry. “I don’t believe you. This is a lie! Magic, a dream of some sort.”
Owl Mother picked up a fork and jabbed him in the hand.
“Feel that?” she asked.
Skylan rubbed his hand, looking down at two spots of blood.
“Yes,” he said.
“It’s no dream,” said Owl Mother. The old woman’s piercing eyes softened. Her mouth sagged. “I wish it were, child. I wish it were.”
She sank back down into her chair and waved her hand at the food. “Eat while you can, son of Norgaard. You may not have another chance for a good long while.”
Skylan was about to say angrily that he wasn’t hungry, especially for food that had been magicked, when he caught Aylaen’s warning glance and, shutting his mouth, he sat down on the stool.
He sniffed at the meat and, since it smelled like real meat, he was about to help himself when he heard a scratching sound coming from the other room. A breath of air stirred the tapestry, making it seem as if the warriors were riding to battle.
“Don’t move!” Owl Mother ordered.
She hurried off, passing through the tapestry. Ignoring her command, Skylan rose to his feet and reached for his sword, only to realize that his sword was in its sheath lying at the foot of the bed. He retrieved it, noticing that the blade had been cleaned. Creeping softly over to the tapestry, he drew it slightly aside.
The small room was empty, as Farinn had described. Owl Mother walked to a door at the far end.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
“Me,” said a voice. “Let me in.”
Owl Mother open the door a crack, peered out and then opened it wide. Wulfe darted inside and Owl Mother shut the door after him.
“Were you followed?” she asked.
Wulfe shook his head. The sleek curls were all awry, once more a tangled mess. He was missing one sleeve of his fine silk shirt and the other was ripped at the elbow. He sniffed the air.
“Food! Good. I’m hungry.”
Skylan put down his sword and hurried back to the stool and was seated there when Owl Mother and Wulfe returned. Wulfe saw the meat and, grabbing pieces in both hands, began to eat ravenously. Owl Mother gave Skylan a baleful look and he had the feeling she knew he had been spying on her.
“What happened?” Owl Mother asked Wulfe.
“I went back to the tower and let the wizard find me. Then I let him chase me around for a little while, then I let him catch me,” he mumbled between mouthfuls. “I told him that a chimera had attacked me and my mother and that we’d been separated and then the One Eyes started chasing me and I ran into the tower for safety. He was annoyed. He told me to tell my people to stay out of the Realm of Fire because it was too dangerous, even for fae folk. He was going to take me somewhere, but I broke loose. That’s how I tore my shirt. It itches anyway.”
Wulfe grabbed some bread and stuffed it in his mouth.
“What did this wizard look like?” Owl Mother asked.
Wulfe chewed bread, swallowed, then said, “He was skinny and tall—taller than Skylan. And he had a face like a frog.”
Wulfe scrunched up his lips. Owl Mother looked grim.
“Baldev,” she said.
Skylan waited for her to continue, wondering who she meant, but she sat hunched in her chair in silence, staring at the dying embers of the fire. He looked at the two marks the fork had made on his hand, still visible, still stinging. He shoved away his plate, as did Farinn and Aylaen. Wulfe ate until Owl Mother stood up, marched over to the table, and whisked away the food while he was still chewing.
Wulfe yelped in protest. A look from Owl Mother silenced him. Going over to the bed, he pulled off a blanket, dragged it to the grate, turned around on it three times, and went to sleep.
“I can help wash up,” Aylaen offered, reaching for the pitcher.
“No need,” said Owl Mother, and with a wave of her hand, the food, the platter, the forks, and the pitcher vanished.
Aylaen gave a start and edged closer to Skylan. He put his arm around her.
“You came here for the fifth spiritbone,” Owl Mother said.
Skylan was startled by her statement, but he saw no reason to deny it.
“The Cyclopes told us the Stormlords plan to give it to Raegar,” he said. “I came to reason with them.”
“Cyclopes,” Owl Mother muttered. “A notion’s not safe inside your own skull when they’re around.”
“Please tell us what is wrong, Owl
Mother,” Aylaen said.
Owl Mother glanced at the boy asleep on the floor. He growled in his sleep, his feet paddling the air.
“The threads of our wyrds have led us to this point. Gods and men, the threads wrap around us, bind us tight.”
Owl Mother pressed her lips together. “We Stormlords did not plan to give the spiritbone to Raegar. Not all of us.”
She gazed, frowning, into the fire.
“Just one—the traitor.”
Owl Mother walked over to the bed. “My old bones need rest. Dawn will come too soon this day. You lot can sleep on the floor. You’ll find blankets in that chest over there. There’s water to wash up.”
Skylan had so many questions, he didn’t know which to ask first. Before he could ask any, Owl Mother walked off.
She motioned to a sea chest and a pitcher and basin standing on the floor, none of which had been there only moments before. Lying on her back on the bed, she dragged the bedcovers up to her chin, folded her hands over her chest, and closed her eyes.
Skylan and the others stared at her in astonishment.
“How could she say something like that and then just go to sleep!” Skylan demanded, glaring at the slumbering old woman, who had now started to snore.
“Hush!” Aylaen whispered. “She’ll hear you.”
“I hope she does,” Skylan muttered, but he said the words beneath his breath. Aylaen yawned and slumped against him. He smoothed her hair and kissed her. “You are exhausted. You and Farinn get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
“What about you?” Aylaen asked, yawning again.
“I’m not tired,” Skylan said. “I need to think.”
Farinn and Aylaen took blankets from the chest and spread them on the floor. The blankets had been folded away with sprigs of dried lavender; their fragrance filled the room. They bathed as best they could, what Aylaen termed a “lick and a promise.”
Skylan settled himself in a straight-backed wooden chair. Owl Mother’s chair by the grate was the most comfortable, but when he tried to sit there, he could feel her watching him, even through closed eyelids.
Farinn sprawled on the floor and was almost immediately asleep. Aylaen was wakeful. She lay on her side, her cheek pillowed on her hand, gazing into the darkness. Her expression was solemn, grave. Skylan wondered what she was seeing, what she was thinking about. She shifted her gaze to him.
Doom of the Dragon Page 27
