[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Alarmed by the perception, Jaric flinched. Only demonimaging could prompt an
explanation of the gift. No doubt thecreature lurked nearby, out of sight, yet
watching still. Madecautious by fear, Jaric hesitated. No man dared trust a
demon,and possession of any Llondian artifact could bring a chargeof heresy
within the civilized borders of Keithland. Harmless or not, the demon's gift
must be refused.
Jaric returned the instrument to the niche and rose. Poi-soned by mistrust,
he suspected the dreams. His recent ex-change with Anskiere's consciousness
might all have been anillusion wrought by Llondian imaging. Possibly the
creaturehad sought to relax his guard, undermine the tenets of his own kind,
and, as with Emien, bring about his downfall. Though soaked to the skin and
aching with stiffened muscles, Jaricflattened himself against the escarpment.
He resumed his climb to the ice cliffs with driven determination.
Though the worst of the ascent lay behind, rain-slickedrocks made treacherous
footing. Cold had slowed his reflexes,and a misstep could tumble him over the
brink, send himcrashing down jagged granite to drown, broken, amid the sav-age
maelstrom of breakers and reefs. Jaric inched forward.The smell of seaweed
soured his lungs as he breathed. Theledge sloped upward, to widen gradually
into an outthrustshelf of rock. Anskiere's prison arose beyond, white ramparts
dirtied by drifting fog.
Jaric felt dwarfed to insignificance in that place. Surfreared up, crested,
smashed into foam against the ice; thecliffs amplified the hiss of falling
spray until it sounded imme-diately underfoot. Wind sighed over the crags,
driving rainthat trickled coldly down Jane's collar. When he had
receivedAnskiere's summons before, the Stormwarden had called tohim in words
shaped of wind. Jaric had listened against a silence so complete even the sea
seemed muted. But this time the elements reflected only the random patterns of
storm andtide. No breeze, no word, and no welcome awaited the boy who carried
the Keys to Elrinfaer.
Chilled and disheartened, Jaric braced his back against therock
face."Anskiere!"
His shout reverberated across the chasm, lost amid drum-ming waves. Jaric
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lacked the heart to try a second time. Nospoken word could reach the
Stormwarden of Elrinfaer, andwith a heavy sense of foreboding the boy
suspected the Llondel's vision might be accurate.Keeper of the Keys the demon
had named him; the title left him bitter. Nothing in life hadprepared him for
such responsibility. Since the day Anskiere's geas overtook him, he had acted
without thought or strategy,forced to complete the sorcerer's bidding within a
frameworknot of his shaping. Now, chilled by the discomforts of rain andfog,
Jaric fought to choose for himself. He would seek his own course instead of
answering power with like power;rather than attempt the Cycle of Fire with its
ruinous train ofconsequences, he would search until he found some other
so-lution. Surely somewhere in Keithland an alternative existedto answer the
threat of the demons.
More alone than he had ever been before, Jaric laced icyfingers over his
face. He knew the perils. Each hour thatpassed lent the demons of Shadowfane
time to design againsthim; more than his own peace might shatter before he
fin-ished. One day Taen Dreamweaver would learn of herbrother's alliance with
the enemy; her Vaere-trained talentsmade discovery inevitable, for no mortal
on Keithland couldhide truth from her dream-sense. Despite her
exceptionalcourage, the grief of Emien's defection might break her. Of
allrisks, that one galled Jaric most sorely. If he ever completedhis search,
he swore as Firelord's heir he would shelter her.
Dawn broke dingy and gray through the drizzle which fellover Cliffhaven.
Half-buried in the oiled-wool cloak lent bythe Kielmark, Taen Dreamweaver
perched on a rock above thetide mark, waiting. Jaric would return shortly. She
knew with-out extending her powers; since the Vaere had employed hertalents to
lure Jaric into the bindings of Anskiere's curseagainst Ivain, the Dreamweaver
perhaps understood the Fire-lord's heir better than he knew himself. Yet the
effects of that betrayal had scarred the boy, and bitterness and distrust
still shadowed their friendship. With Jaric, Taen dared not delve deeply. He
knew her touch, and far too much of Keithland'ssafety lay balanced in his
hands for her to risk any chance of
upset. She sat patiently through rain and the lingering shadow of night until
Jaric chose to come down.
Daylight brightened the sky above the ice cliffs. Gullsbanked and swooped on
the air, scavenging morsels the tidehad left amid rain-blurred profiles of
rock. Taen peeled wet hair off her cheek and tugged her maroon hood forward
toshield her face from the wind. The smell of soaked wool min-gled with tide
wrack and damp. She barely noticed her coldfeet. Brushed inwardly by a change
subtle as shifting current, she smiled for the first time in days; for, on a
ledge above hervantage point, Jaric rose and finally began his descent. He
weathered his disappointment well, thought Taen. She sighedwith relief. A
touch of color returned to her cheeks, and she lifted blue eyes to the cliffs
where Jaric would soon reappear.Although the Vaere had rebuked Taen often for
her impetuous nature, she could not help but hope. Both Anskiere's
deliver-ance and Keithland's future depended on Ivainson's masteryof the Cycle
of Fire.
The darkest hours of night had passed more easily thanthose last minutes
while Jaric descended the ice cliffs. Taenrose as he leaped the last yard to
the strand. He stumbled onlanding, muscles stiffened from chill. Light hair
tumbleddown over his eyes in the rain. Even from a distance Taen could see
that he shivered.
"Jaric!" Breaking waves drowned her call. Irritated, theDreamweaver raised
her voice again. "Jaric!"
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He stopped and looked up, brown eyes wide with surprise. Pleased he had not
detected her surveillance through thenight, Taen muffled a grin behind one
wool-draped wrist and ran tomeet him.
She arrived breathless at his side and, tilting her face up tolook at him,
saw exhaustion stamped across his features."You've got fish-brains between
your ears." Her handsseemed childishly small as she worked loose the brooch
which pinned her cloak. The moment the fastening freed, she flickedthe wool
open and bundled Jaric inside; the Kielmark's gar- ment was generous enough to
accommodate both of them.
"I'm soaked!" he protested.
"Fish-brains!"The word transformed to a gasp as the seal-wetness of him
penetrated the dry layers of Taen's shift. "Noyou don't," she added as Jaric
tried to draw away. "You'll hateit more if I have to feed you broth in bed."
He did not smile, which was unlike him. Instead he
glancedat the big, square-cut ruby which adorned the cloakpin. Taen felt him
tense.
"That's the Kielmark's," Jaric said sharply. "He knowsyou're here?"
"Fish-brainsis too generous," Taen replied. Warned by herdream-sense that
contact with her body was adding to Jaric's uneasiness, she loosened the cloak
slightly. "When his Lord-ship the King of Pirates noticed you'd left his
banquet withoutpermission, he shouted like a madman and told half his
cap-tains to arm themselves directly and look for you. I offered to come in
their place. I told him I already knew where to findyou." Jaric would know her
words were understatement. TheSovereign Lord of Cliffhaven was about as easy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Alarmed by the perception, Jaric flinched. Only demonimaging could prompt an
explanation of the gift. No doubt thecreature lurked nearby, out of sight, yet
watching still. Madecautious by fear, Jaric hesitated. No man dared trust a
demon,and possession of any Llondian artifact could bring a chargeof heresy
within the civilized borders of Keithland. Harmless or not, the demon's gift
must be refused.
Jaric returned the instrument to the niche and rose. Poi-soned by mistrust,
he suspected the dreams. His recent ex-change with Anskiere's consciousness
might all have been anillusion wrought by Llondian imaging. Possibly the
creaturehad sought to relax his guard, undermine the tenets of his own kind,
and, as with Emien, bring about his downfall. Though soaked to the skin and
aching with stiffened muscles, Jaricflattened himself against the escarpment.
He resumed his climb to the ice cliffs with driven determination.
Though the worst of the ascent lay behind, rain-slickedrocks made treacherous
footing. Cold had slowed his reflexes,and a misstep could tumble him over the
brink, send himcrashing down jagged granite to drown, broken, amid the sav-age
maelstrom of breakers and reefs. Jaric inched forward.The smell of seaweed
soured his lungs as he breathed. Theledge sloped upward, to widen gradually
into an outthrustshelf of rock. Anskiere's prison arose beyond, white ramparts
dirtied by drifting fog.
Jaric felt dwarfed to insignificance in that place. Surfreared up, crested,
smashed into foam against the ice; thecliffs amplified the hiss of falling
spray until it sounded imme-diately underfoot. Wind sighed over the crags,
driving rainthat trickled coldly down Jane's collar. When he had
receivedAnskiere's summons before, the Stormwarden had called tohim in words
shaped of wind. Jaric had listened against a silence so complete even the sea
seemed muted. But this time the elements reflected only the random patterns of
storm andtide. No breeze, no word, and no welcome awaited the boy who carried
the Keys to Elrinfaer.
Chilled and disheartened, Jaric braced his back against therock
face."Anskiere!"
His shout reverberated across the chasm, lost amid drum-ming waves. Jaric
Page 29
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lacked the heart to try a second time. Nospoken word could reach the
Stormwarden of Elrinfaer, andwith a heavy sense of foreboding the boy
suspected the Llondel's vision might be accurate.Keeper of the Keys the demon
had named him; the title left him bitter. Nothing in life hadprepared him for
such responsibility. Since the day Anskiere's geas overtook him, he had acted
without thought or strategy,forced to complete the sorcerer's bidding within a
frameworknot of his shaping. Now, chilled by the discomforts of rain andfog,
Jaric fought to choose for himself. He would seek his own course instead of
answering power with like power;rather than attempt the Cycle of Fire with its
ruinous train ofconsequences, he would search until he found some other
so-lution. Surely somewhere in Keithland an alternative existedto answer the
threat of the demons.
More alone than he had ever been before, Jaric laced icyfingers over his
face. He knew the perils. Each hour thatpassed lent the demons of Shadowfane
time to design againsthim; more than his own peace might shatter before he
fin-ished. One day Taen Dreamweaver would learn of herbrother's alliance with
the enemy; her Vaere-trained talentsmade discovery inevitable, for no mortal
on Keithland couldhide truth from her dream-sense. Despite her
exceptionalcourage, the grief of Emien's defection might break her. Of
allrisks, that one galled Jaric most sorely. If he ever completedhis search,
he swore as Firelord's heir he would shelter her.
Dawn broke dingy and gray through the drizzle which fellover Cliffhaven.
Half-buried in the oiled-wool cloak lent bythe Kielmark, Taen Dreamweaver
perched on a rock above thetide mark, waiting. Jaric would return shortly. She
knew with-out extending her powers; since the Vaere had employed hertalents to
lure Jaric into the bindings of Anskiere's curseagainst Ivain, the Dreamweaver
perhaps understood the Fire-lord's heir better than he knew himself. Yet the
effects of that betrayal had scarred the boy, and bitterness and distrust
still shadowed their friendship. With Jaric, Taen dared not delve deeply. He
knew her touch, and far too much of Keithland'ssafety lay balanced in his
hands for her to risk any chance of
upset. She sat patiently through rain and the lingering shadow of night until
Jaric chose to come down.
Daylight brightened the sky above the ice cliffs. Gullsbanked and swooped on
the air, scavenging morsels the tidehad left amid rain-blurred profiles of
rock. Taen peeled wet hair off her cheek and tugged her maroon hood forward
toshield her face from the wind. The smell of soaked wool min-gled with tide
wrack and damp. She barely noticed her coldfeet. Brushed inwardly by a change
subtle as shifting current, she smiled for the first time in days; for, on a
ledge above hervantage point, Jaric rose and finally began his descent. He
weathered his disappointment well, thought Taen. She sighedwith relief. A
touch of color returned to her cheeks, and she lifted blue eyes to the cliffs
where Jaric would soon reappear.Although the Vaere had rebuked Taen often for
her impetuous nature, she could not help but hope. Both Anskiere's
deliver-ance and Keithland's future depended on Ivainson's masteryof the Cycle
of Fire.
The darkest hours of night had passed more easily thanthose last minutes
while Jaric descended the ice cliffs. Taenrose as he leaped the last yard to
the strand. He stumbled onlanding, muscles stiffened from chill. Light hair
tumbleddown over his eyes in the rain. Even from a distance Taen could see
that he shivered.
"Jaric!" Breaking waves drowned her call. Irritated, theDreamweaver raised
her voice again. "Jaric!"
Page 30
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He stopped and looked up, brown eyes wide with surprise. Pleased he had not
detected her surveillance through thenight, Taen muffled a grin behind one
wool-draped wrist and ran tomeet him.
She arrived breathless at his side and, tilting her face up tolook at him,
saw exhaustion stamped across his features."You've got fish-brains between
your ears." Her handsseemed childishly small as she worked loose the brooch
which pinned her cloak. The moment the fastening freed, she flickedthe wool
open and bundled Jaric inside; the Kielmark's gar- ment was generous enough to
accommodate both of them.
"I'm soaked!" he protested.
"Fish-brains!"The word transformed to a gasp as the seal-wetness of him
penetrated the dry layers of Taen's shift. "Noyou don't," she added as Jaric
tried to draw away. "You'll hateit more if I have to feed you broth in bed."
He did not smile, which was unlike him. Instead he
glancedat the big, square-cut ruby which adorned the cloakpin. Taen felt him
tense.
"That's the Kielmark's," Jaric said sharply. "He knowsyou're here?"
"Fish-brainsis too generous," Taen replied. Warned by herdream-sense that
contact with her body was adding to Jaric's uneasiness, she loosened the cloak
slightly. "When his Lord-ship the King of Pirates noticed you'd left his
banquet withoutpermission, he shouted like a madman and told half his
cap-tains to arm themselves directly and look for you. I offered to come in
their place. I told him I already knew where to findyou." Jaric would know her
words were understatement. TheSovereign Lord of Cliffhaven was about as easy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]