The Stone of the Stars

by Alison Baird

  Jomar’s first arrow struck the lower jaw and bounced off it as though it were plated with steel. The snout became a black pit edged with gleaming tusks, and a grating roar filled the little room, reverberating in their chests and throats and heads like an earth-tremor. The jaws pulled back, and a limb came groping through the opening. It was rust-colored and shaped like a gigantic cockerel’s, with a scaly foot tipped by three grasping talons in front and one behind.

  “Look out!” shouted Lorelyn.

  Jomar, in the very act of drawing his sword, leaped aside as the claw opened and made a snatch at him. The talons closed on air. But he stumbled in his haste and sprawled backwards, his sword falling with a clatter to the stone floor. The clawed limb flailed, trying to reach him as he scrabbled away.

  “No!” Lorelyn cried.

  She dived for the sword, gripped the hilt in both hands, and swung it vigourously at the scaly leg. Another roar shook them all to the bone. The leg drew away slightly, then the claw opened once more and lashed out, knocking the weapon from Lorelyn’s hands and sending the girl reeling against the wall even as Jomar sprang to his feet again.

  “Back,” he yelled, grabbing for Lorelyn’s arm. “Get back!”

  He shoved her against the wall. But the sword lay on the floor where it had fallen, out of reach beneath the flailing claw. Ailia screamed.

  “ANA! NO!” YELLED DAMION through the driving rain.

  Lightning flashed again above him, and by its brief glow he saw a gigantic shape. It crouched upon the shell of the guesthouse like a monstrous bat, the membranous tent of its half-folded wings completely engulfing the ruin. Its body gleamed like wet metal: it seemed to be reddish in color, though it was difficult to tell by the lightning-flashes. Ana stood a short distance away from him, facing the creature. The air all around them was alive with a glowing green discharge, flaring from treetops and the points of standing rocks, just as it had hung about the ship’s masts during the storm. Ana lifted up her wooden cane, and as its head rose it too flared green-white, blazing like a ghostly torch. The dragon reared up on its haunches: its horned head was at once swathed in the green radiance as well, so that the creature seemed to wear a crown of fire.

  “Il marien lithai, Trynoloänan!” cried Ana in Elensi.

  The dragon roared back at her, echoing the thunder. Then it leaped into the air as the lightning flashed again, and Damion caught a glimpse of vast venous wings, billowing out like wind-swollen sails; a copper-colored body with huge clawed limbs drawn up underneath; a long, serpentine tail. Darkness descended again, but he could still see the dragon, for as it rose skyward the airy luminescence enveloped it completely and it blazed like a shooting star. It plunged into the low-hanging clouds, became a green glow flickering through gauzy layers of vapor. Then it vanished from his sight.

  At the same instant Ana, who had been standing perfectly still, arms raised, eyes shut, lips moving as if in prayer, gave a weak cry and fell forward. Damion ran and knelt by her side, turning her over. Her eyes were closed, her face haggard: she made no response, even when he shook her gently by the shoulders. His three companions rushed out of the guesthouse, colliding with one another in the narrow doorway.

  “Get back inside,” he bawled at them, trying to make himself heard above the storm. Gathering Ana in his arms, he followed them into the guesthouse. “Ana, Ana—” He spoke urgently in her ear as he laid her down on the stone floor. “Ana, can you hear me?” But Ana made no sound: she lay motionless, as if in a deep swoon.

  “Oh, Damion, what’s wrong with her?” asked Ailia. “Did the dragon hurt her?”

  He shook his head, feeling helpless. “No. She was just standing there, shouting at the dragon—”

  “Shouting at it?” Jomar echoed.

  He nodded. “And then—she just fell to the ground.”

  “Heart attack?” suggested the Mohara man.

  “I don’t know.”

  They stood in a silent circle around the supine woman. They could not light a fire: they had no fuel, and the trees outside were rain-soaked. The supplies were gone with the horses. They had no blankets to put over Ana. Damion wrapped her in her cloak and put his over her as well, and Lorelyn folded hers and put it under Ana’s head. Ailia realized her legs were shaking like a frightened animal’s: she gave up trying to stand and sank down onto the stone floor, tucking her legs underneath her, but even that could not still their trembling. For a long time no one spoke: they sat or stood in dismal silence, gazing helplessly at Ana. Presently there was a yowl and Greymalkin darted down the cellar steps out of the rain, shaking her damp fur. When she saw Ana she fell silent, then went and curled up beside her mistress with her ears flat against her skull and her tail twitching.

  At each gust of wind and growl of thunder they stiffened, fearing the dragon had returned. Still Greymalkin remained by Ana’s side, curled up in a gray ball and staring at her with anxious green eyes. Was it true that pets kept deathwatches over their ailing owners? Lorelyn reached over and stroked her ears gently. “What is it, puss?” she whispered. “What’s wrong with her?” The cat nuzzled her hand briefly, then continued her silent vigil.

  “If only Ana had told us where the Stone is!” sighed Lorelyn. “She said she knew exactly where it lay. How will we find it if she . . . doesn’t get well?”

  “I know where it is,” said Ailia in a small voice.

  “You know?” Jomar exclaimed, swinging around to stare at her.

  “Yes—I read all about it, in that book. Welessan’s Wanderyngs. He saw where the Stone was kept in the temple.”

  “Why didn’t you say so before?” asked Lorelyn, astonished.

  “I was afraid to. Ana said it wasn’t safe to know, and—oh, what does it matter now anyway?”

  Another silence fell, broken only by thunderclaps. At last, to their enormous relief, Ana stirred. Her pale eyes opened and seemed to stare up at them. Then as Damion knelt beside her she sat up and put the cloaks aside. “My body has recovered, but not my powers,” she murmured. “He has deliberately weakened me with many challenges, and now there is not enough strength left in me.”

  “He? Whom do you mean, Ana?” Damion asked.

  “There is another power in this land,” she said. She held out an arm, and he helped her to her feet. “A very strong one. It is behind all these attacks against us. First the hydra, then the storm, the Anthropophagi, and now this . . . Did you think these things were mere coincidence? They were weapons, all wielded by one hand. We have a foe who does not wish our mission to succeed. And I am the focus of his wrath. He feels my power wherever we go, and he responds to it.”

  The young people exchanged glances, and Jomar tapped the side of his head.

  “No, Jomar, I am not mad. But I cannot tell you more,” Ana said in weary tones. “I told you before that knowledge can be dangerous, and this is one of those times. But this you must know: you are all in grave danger as long as I am with you. I must go apart for a while; I must leave you.”

  “Leave us!” cried Ailia. “But—you can’t! Where would you go?”

  “Where does not matter. As long as I am not in your midst, you will be safe—as safe as you can be, I should say, for there are other perils here. But those you can face. This one, this adversary, you cannot. I will draw him away from you if I can. Go on uphill: complete the mission. This storm cloud is a part of his sorcery, but you can use it against him: it will hide you from his sight, and he will not know for some time where you have gone. I will go in a different direction, back down the side of the mountain, and he will follow me thinking that you are with me, that we are giving up our quest. I will be like a mother bird, feigning a broken wing to draw the fox away from her nestlings.”

  “No.” Lorelyn spoke in a more forceful voice than the others had ever heard her use. “I won’t let you go off by yourself like that, into danger!”

  Ana went to her and laid her small, withered hand on the girl’s forearm. “My dear child! I will not let
myself be a danger to you. I will rejoin you as soon as I can, but that may not be for some time. And if this is fated to be, if you really are the one, then the Stone will come to you whether I am with you or not. Remember what I told you about the Guardians!” She hobbled up the stone stairs, leaning against the wall as she went. Her cat followed her, and after a moment the rest of them did as well.

  Outside the sky was still lost in cloud. There was no sign of the horses, though a quick search by Damion and Jomar turned up a few bags lying on the ground, their contents scattered. There were blankets and candles and some other supplies, but very little food, and much of that was rain-soaked. They gathered it all up, as well as some kindling for fires. Ana picked up her stick from the ground and turned to face the others. “One more thing: will you take my cat with you?” Without a word, Lorelyn went and picked Greymalkin up. The cat gave a mournful wail, but allowed the girl to carry her. “There,” Ana said. “Now, the cloud is thinning. We are wasting time, and that is becoming precious. Go now, all of you: take the path up to the city, and wait for me there.”

  They obeyed with great reluctance: Ana looked so very small and old and weary, leaning on her cane. More than one of them wondered if they would ever see her again—if they were not now abandoning her to her death. But it was plain in any case that she would not be able to make the climb up to the mountaintop. And so they turned to continue on the upward path, though not without many backward glances. The last they saw of Ana was her bowed form descending into the vapors: gray vanishing in gray.

  AS THEY MADE THEIR OWN way uphill the cloud began to shred and disperse, admitting the waning daylight. Looking back down the path, they saw the gray mass of the storm below them, descending the mountainside. They stood for a moment watching it, the hems of their cloaks lifting in the waning turbulence of its wake, before turning again and marching on. Before long they left the trees behind them and toiled up a slope sparsely scattered with small bushes and covered in rough meadow-grass. To one side a scree slope fell away to blue-tinged depths; above them jagged pinnacles soared. Of Liamar itself they could see nothing, as the heavy knitted brows of the crags above hid it from view. They felt uneasy at being out in the open without the cover of cloud, exposed to the view of sky-roving dragons. But they saw none: the sky above them was empty and clear.

  “Do you suppose it’s true, what Ana said?” Ailia asked the others. “About a sort of power fighting against her?”

  “No,“ said Jomar. “The truth is that this is a race, us against Khalazar’s men. She was slowing us down, and deep down she knew it. That’s why she stayed behind. We will go faster without her.”

  “Jo, how can you say that?” exclaimed Lorelyn, turning to him in reproach. “She may be in terrible danger down there, with dragons about, and the Zimbourans too. One of us should have stayed with her.” She looked down the mountain path. “I’ve half a mind to go back.”

  “She wouldn’t want that,” said Damion. “She was right, Lorelyn—you are in worse danger than any of us where the Zimbourans are concerned. I will go back. Jomar can protect you.”

  “No, Damion.” Ailia stepped forward. “Lorelyn needs both of you. Let me go instead.”

  “But you’re not a fighter, Ailia. And you know where the Stone is,” said Damion.

  “I can tell you that,” said Ailia. “It’s in the temple of Heaven, of course, the biggest building in the city. It’s in a shrine right at the very center.” She turned with a heavy heart to descend the path again, down toward the cloud that swirled about the mountainside. She longed to see the city on the summit, and she was filled with terror at the thought of dragons and Zimbourans lurking in the mists below. But her guilt and anxiety over Ana were stronger. She remembered the old woman’s calm and comforting presence during the long weeks of the ocean voyage. How could they abandon her? “Lorelyn is right. We should never have left her. She looked as if she were afraid, and trying to hide it. What were we all thinking? You don’t need me, and I can keep Ana company. We’ll find a place to hide together.”

  As she walked downhill she was aware of footsteps behind her. Damion and Lorelyn were following at her heels. Behind them Jomar called out in frustration. “What do you all think you’re doing? I told you, we have to get to the top. And you’ll never find the old woman in all that mist.”

  “You go, Jomar,” Ailia called back. “You’re the strongest. And I know how important it is to you to stop the Zimbourans. But we just can’t go without Ana.”

  “She’s right,” Damion agreed. “No one must be left behind. If need be, I will carry Ana all the way uphill.”

  They continued to walk down the path. After a moment Jomar followed them. “None of you knows how to fight,” he said tersely as they turned to look at him. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together.”

  They continued the descent in silence, gazing at the cloud below. It still flickered with lightning, but it was beginning to shred about the edges. It was almost, Ailia thought with a prickle of fear, as if some great battle of opposing forces was being waged within.

  Suddenly Jomar stiffened and stood still. “Look—over there to the right, on the mountainside. I thought I saw someone!”

  They halted. “Didn’t Ana say the Anthropophagi never came up here?” said Damion.

  “Perhaps it’s the Zimbourans,” Ailia whispered. What else could possibly happen to them now?

  A dark figure was striding down the path toward them. It did not look like a Zimbouran soldier or an Anthropophagus: it was a tall man in a hooded black cloak. As they stood stupefied, gaping up at him, he called down to them.

  “What on earth do the lot of you think you’re doing?” the man demanded.

  The voice was Mandrake’s! As they stared at him in disbelief he threw back the voluminous hood, shaking his long mane of hair free. “What are you doing up here?” he repeated, continuing to walk toward them. “Why isn’t Ana with you?”

  “Lorelyn was the first to recover her voice. “She stayed behind,” she replied. “But we’re going back to get her. To help her.”

  “The dragon,” choked Ailia. “There was a dragon—”

  “Of course. Didn’t you know this mountain was dragon territory?”

  “But what are you doing here?” Lorelyn exclaimed. “I thought you were still in Maurainia.”

  “I followed you here,” Mandrake replied. “I know the way, from my wanderings: I have traveled here many times before. In fact, I have a home here.”

  “Who are you?” shouted Jomar, stepping toward him in an aggressive manner.

  “You may call me Mandrake.” He made a slight, ironic bow.

  “What kind of a name is that?” retorted Jomar.

  “I didn’t say it was my name,” the other replied coolly. “I said it was what you might call me.” Though his speech was courteous, the tone was condescending. He smiled, showing all his teeth: the canines and incisors, Ailia noticed, were unusually long and sharp.

  As he drew near, Greymalkin went rigid in Lorelyn’s arms. The cat flattened her ears and hissed. “She doesn’t like you,” Jomar commented to Mandrake.

  “The feeling,” Mandrake replied, giving the cat glare for glare, “is mutual.” His yellow eyes turned back to them. “Why did you leave Ana?”

  “Why do you want to know?” returned Jomar belligerently.

  “She was . . . tired,” Damion explained, choosing his words with slow care. “There was a hard climb ahead, and possibly danger. This journey has been too much for her.”

  “Too much?” snapped Mandrake. “If it hadn’t been for Ana none of you would have survived this long.” He glared at them. “It was Ana who saved you from the dragon, Ana who freed you from the Zimbourans, Ana who brought you all safe to shore with her sorcery when the sea-storms would have capsized the galleons. Her powers have saved your lives, time and time again. She has taxed herself to the limit for you. She needs no help from you. There is nothing you can do for her.”
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br />   No one could find anything to say to this. But Ailia had a sudden recollection of Ana’s pale, tense face in the darkness of the storm-tossed ship, her odd withdrawn expression. She had thought the old woman was ill. And she recalled also how Ana had not let herself sleep on the journey, but remained awake all night to watch over the others. Perhaps because only she could deal with the dangers that threatened them? “Will . . . will Ana die?” she asked, frightened.

  “No,” said Mandrake with an odd vehemence. “Her powers are strong, and her body is too old and frail to withstand the stresses they place upon it. But she will not die.” He straightened, towering in their midst. “Whatever possessed you to come up here in the first place? Why in Valdur’s name can’t you let well enough alone?”

  “It won’t be well enough if the Zimbourans get the Star Stone,” countered Lorelyn. “Damion says there might be a war because of it.”

  “Far be it from me to argue with an authority like Damion.” Mandrake cast a cold glance at the priest.

  “We’re going to go on and look for it,” Damion said in a quiet voice. “And no one is going to stop us.”

  Mandrake’s yellow, feline eyes narrowed to slits. Damion had never had a close look at those eyes before, and he suddenly wondered if Mandrake was human, or related to the Anthropophagi. He did not really resemble the grotesque deformed creatures that had attacked them in the wood: but there were those unnatural eyes, those almost fanglike teeth. It was true that Ana said Mandrake had been born in Zimboura. But might not members of that strange inhuman race have fled to other lands in ages past? No wonder Ana was so mysterious about Mandrake, back in Maurainia—I would never have believed her if she’d told me the truth. A descendant of a lost race—a bogeyman from a hearth-tale!