For what felt like an endless time, they continued to trudge. The monotonous rhythm of the gobsken’s heavy boots echoed inside the dank tunnel, as well as inside Elli’s head. At last, they slowed and came to a halt.
One of the gobsken stepped to the rock wall. With a nervous glance at the others, he raised his fist and rapped against a heavy door set into the stone. Elli noticed an eerie reddish glow seeping through the edges.
Slowly, the door opened, flooding the tunnel with pulsing red light. A harsh, raspy voice came from whatever room lay within. Elli couldn’t make out what the voice said, but the mere sound of it chilled her blood.
“It’s Kulwych,” she whispered to Nuic. “I’m sure of it.”
“Hmmmpff. In that case, maybe it’s time you started thinking of a plan.”
She scowled at him, but knew that he was right. How could she have been so foolish to waste precious time despairing? She should have been thinking of what she still might do for her world!
“At least do your best to hide your crystal,” the sprite whispered as he turned the Galator around so that it rested behind his back.
“Right.” She patted down the leaves of her amulet so that they fully covered the crystal of élano.
Just then the gobsken finished talking, bowed his head, and quickly backed away. He strode over to Elli, grabbed her by the shoulder, and dragged her roughly to the open door. Without so much as a word, he hurled her inside and turned to go.
Elli stumbled into the room, striking her head against the rock wall. Dazed, she slumped to the floor, vaguely aware of hearing the gobsken’s boots clomping down the tunnel. And then she heard another sound: a low, throaty cackle from nearby.
“So, my young priestess, you have come to visit, mmmyesss?” Kulwych stepped closer, peering at them with his lidless eye. “You and your little pet.”
Nuic’s skin color darkened to black, while veins of scarlet coursed through his chest.
Shaking her head to clear her vision, she cringed at the sight of the sorcerer’s mutilated face. The jagged scar that ran from his missing ear down to his chin caught the room’s red light, pulsing horrendously. Then, looking beyond him, she saw the source of the light. It was a crystal, throbbing red, placed on a stone pedestal.
The corrupted crystal, she realized. So close! Maybe there was still a chance to do what she had come here to do. But how could she possibly destroy the crystal, even if she could somehow get past Kulwych?
The sorcerer rubbed his pale hands together. “You are, I believe, the priestess I was told about. Why else would you be here in Shadowroot? But where, may I ask, is the, er, friend I sent to find you?”
“You mean that murderer, Deth Macoll?” answered Elli, trying to look at Kulwych rather than at the crystal, so he wouldn’t suspect her motives. “He’s dead.”
He drew a sharp breath. “Dead? Are you sure?”
She nodded grimly.
“How unfortunate, mmmyesss.” He chortled vengefully. “I was looking forward to the pleasure of killing him myself.”
The sorcerer raised one hand to his face and started inspecting his perfectly clipped fingernails. “And what,” he asked, still examining his hand, “happened to the crystal of pure élano that he was supposed to steal?”
Elli winced. “It’s, um—gone. Lost.”
Kulwych turned to her and clacked his tongue. “You are a terrible liar, my priestess. Quite terrible. Yet it hardly matters. I have very little interest in your crystal, having one of my own that is far more powerful—as well as far more useful for my particular purposes.”
Thoughtfully, he stroked what remained of his chin. “Now just one question remains. Why did you come all the way here? Surely not for a social engagement, though I am famously good company.”
She shifted uncomfortably, her back pressed against the rock wall.
He curled his slit of a mouth into a frightful grin. “Perhaps, then, you came here with a plan. Could it possibly be . . . to destroy my own crystal?”
Watching the color drain from her face, he nodded knowingly. “You cannot fool me, Priestess.”
Grandly, he gave Elli a bow. “You were right to try, though. Mmmyesss. There is awesome power in my crystal, more than you can imagine! Why, even now it binds my lord Rhita Gawr to his warriors on high, and me to my warriors on the Plains of Isenwy. And it is capable of much, much more, as Avalon shall soon discover.”
Elli fidgeted, her mind racing. She had to think of a way! But what?
Kulwych laughed softly. “There is only one problem with your plan, I am afraid.” He bent closer, the crystal’s light pulsing in his eye. “My crystal cannot be destroyed.”
Her heart froze.
“But you, my priestess, you certainly can be destroyed.” He rubbed his hands briskly. “So that is what I shall do, this very instant.”
PART III
23 • Dying Flames
Tamwyn held tight to Ahearna’s mane as the great horse whirled around, preparing to confront Rhita Gawr. Light from the enormous star, the Heart of Pegasus, flashed on every feather of her silvery white wings. Yet that light, Tamwyn knew, was fading fast. For jagged cracks of darkness continued to spread rapidly through the Heart.
Ahearna tilted her powerful wings, turning so fast that Tamwyn barely hung on. As she came around, she snorted with wrath, flaring her nostrils. Her angry neigh echoed across the sky, from the nearby star and the branch that held it to the luminous waves of the River of Time.
Then came another sound, a gargantuan roar that completely overwhelmed Ahearna’s neigh. So loud was it that the nearest branches of the Great Tree, as well as the sky itself, seemed to shake. Tamwyn winced, while his fellow passenger Henni released his hold around Tamwyn’s waist in order to cover his ears. The roar reverberated among the stars, louder than anything they had ever heard.
It was the roar of a dragon.
Ahearna completed her turn—and faced Rhita Gawr. He hovered directly in front of the horse and riders, his massive body a huge dark stain upon the sky. His tongue alone, which flitted hungrily along his lips, was larger than the mortals who dared to challenge him; with his leathery black wings outstretched, he dwarfed them as an eagle would dwarf a moth. Not since the days of the legendary Basilgarrad, long ago, had a dragon so fierce and powerful commanded the skies of Avalon.
The dragon’s scales glistened darkly in the starlight, absorbing much more light than they reflected. His claws shone even blacker, as did his many rows of sword-sharp teeth. Yet the darkest parts of this terrible beast were not his wings, scales, claws, or teeth—but his eyes.
They’re not only dark, thought Tamwyn, taken aback. They’re empty. Hollow. Bottomless.
Like two wells of nothingness, as vacant as the void, Rhita Gawr’s eyes glared at him. Then suddenly the eyes showed a look of surprise, which swiftly turned into unbounded rage.
“Spawn of Merlin,” bellowed the dark dragon. “How is it possible that you are still alive? I thought I had killed you already! Yet now I smell your living blood—and the stench of my old nemesis.”
“The only stench you smell is yours, Rhita Gawr!” Tamwyn leaned forward on the steed, his black hair shining. “I’ve come a long way to find you.”
The dragon opened his cavernous mouth, packed with deadly pinnacles, and roared even louder than before. “All you have found is your death, runt wizard.”
Faster than thought, Rhita Gawr coiled his massive tail above his outspread wings—and hurled it straight at the challengers. But Ahearna, the Star Galloper, moved even faster. She raised a wing and spun sideways, just as the celestial whip snapped with explosive force.
Before Rhita Gawr could recover, Ahearna beat her wings furiously and dived right at the dragon’s head, so fast she was barely a blur of starlight. “Use your wizard’s staff,” she called to Tamwyn’s mind. “Nothing could be more powerful.”
In the hands of a real wizard, he answered, suddenly unsure of himself.
&nbs
p; Still, he forced aside his doubts and pulled from its sheath the very staff Merlin himself had once wielded, the famed Ohnyalei. As he wrapped his hand around its knotted top, he felt a distinct current of energy, and the seven runes engraved on the shaft began to glow with a subtle blue light.
“The eye!” cried Ahearna. “Strike the eye.”
A split second before they reached Rhita Gawr, the dragon realized his danger. Rolling to the side, he slapped at his adversaries with one broad, bony wing. At the same time, Tamwyn raised the staff and swung as hard as he could.
He hit—so hard that the impact rattled every bone in his body. Though Ohnyalei landed just above the dragon’s eye, it struck hard enough to crack several scales, each the size of a supper plate. One of them broke off entirely. Moreover, Tamwyn’s blow clearly enraged Rhita Gawr even more, for the gargantuan beast released a wild roar that sounded like an exploding star.
Ahearna banked, avoiding the dragon’s wing. Meanwhile, Henni released a loud whoop into Tamwyn’s ear that was only barely audible above the din. The hoolah squeezed Tamwyn tighter, as if to say, Nice work, clumsy man.
As they glided out of reach, Tamwyn glanced at the pocket of his tunic to check on his other companion. While he caught a glimpse of Batty Lad’s mouselike face and cupped ears, they were just pulling back down into the pocket. Whatever Batty Lad had seen was enough, apparently, to make him want to hide himself deeper than ever, cowering with fright.
Just then Tamwyn felt something inside his mind. It wasn’t a voice, but a feeling. Anxiety, concern, worry. But from where?
It came, he realized in a flash, from the warriors who served Rhita Gawr! The place where they were gathering—the seven darkened stars of the Wizard’s Staff, now open doorways to the Otherworld—was very far away across the sky, too far for Tamwyn to see what the warriors actually looked like. And yet those warriors could clearly sense their master’s distress. They could feel his emotions, and maybe also his will. Just as they could communicate their own feelings to him. Somehow, through a kind of magical connection that Tamwyn didn’t understand, the warriors were all bound to their master.
Seconds later, he heard Rhita Gawr’s wrathful voice again. “Runt wizard, I shall squash you like an insect! And I shall not need my vast army that gathers even now, awaiting my signal for the greater battle to come. No, this task shall be mine alone!”
The dragon plunged at them, even as he coiled his deadly tail to strike again. But Ahearna, ever alert, saw the attack coming. Anticipating right where the tail would fall, she tilted and swooped downward, passing near the rocky cliffs of a small branch that held no star.
This time, however, Rhita Gawr was one wingbeat ahead. His tail never uncoiled; that had been a feint. The instant Ahearna slowed, confident that the tail would whip past and miss them completely, he attacked in an entirely different way.
From the hollow depths of his eyes came a bolt of black lightning—the same terrible weapon he had hurled at the Heart of Pegasus to destroy the star’s flames. The lightning shot across the sky, sizzling as it flew, canceling out any starlight in its path.
Seeing the sudden blast, both Ahearna and Tamwyn realized they’d been tricked. The great horse whinnied and flapped her wings so hard that the muscles of her shoulders and back seemed about to burst. She lifted them higher as the bolt of blackness hurtled toward them.
Too late!
The lightning struck her wing, slicing through layers of feather and bone. While the main thrust of the blast missed the companions and exploded into the cliffs of the branch just behind them, sending countless shards of bark into the air, Ahearna’s wound was grave.
She reeled in pain, suddenly unable to fly. She whinnied and kicked her hooves, then tossed her head with such force that Tamwyn lost his grip on her mane. Groping wildly with the hand that wasn’t holding the staff, he tried to catch hold again, all the while squeezing her with his thighs. Yet it wasn’t enough.
He fell off the steed.
Desperately, Tamwyn twisted to grab the flailing horse. But as he turned, his staff knocked against her haunches and flew from his grasp. Like Tamwyn himself, the precious Ohnyalei plummeted downward. So did Ahearna, along with the hoolah still clinging to her back. Henni shouted something—a cry not of words but of genuine anguish.
All of them spun through the air. Tamwyn glimpsed the staff, flashing as it fell toward the dying fires of the Heart of Pegasus. His last view of Ahearna was the sight of her torn wing, backlit by the radiant River of Time. For a brief moment, the wing glowed so brightly that its feathers seemed to have burst into flames.
Out of nowhere, he saw an immense black shadow. Rhita Gawr! The dragon swooped lower, then arched his wings so that he hovered right beneath his prey.
“Oooff,” grunted Tamwyn as he crashed onto a hard, shiny surface. The dragon’s snout.
He sat up, ignoring his bruises, to find himself staring into one of those bottomless eyes he so dreaded. The enormous, lidless eye glared back at him with malice.
“Well, well, my runt wizard, just look where you’ve landed. And without your staff! Such a pity.”
Beneath Tamwyn, the whole snout shook violently, as Rhita Gawr released a loud, shuddering roar that could only have been a laugh. It was all the young man could do to hold on to the slippery scales so that he didn’t slide off the edge. Or into the dragon’s terrible eye, just a few paces away.
“I sense how little is your power,” sneered the dragon, his leathery wings flapping slowly to keep himself aloft. “Why, you lack even enough magic to light that torch on your back.”
Tamwyn winced, knowing it was true.
“You are a sorry excuse for a wizard,” the dragon continued, lowering his voice to a thunderous growl. “Yet I am glad you have somehow survived. For it will be a pleasure to kill you here and now.”
Deep within the void of the eye, sparks appeared, coalescing quickly. Tamwyn could tell that only a few seconds remained before a bolt of black lightning would destroy him, as well as any hope to save Avalon.
Had he climbed so high, traveled so far, and endured so much—just to die like this? His mind raced through all the possibilities of what he might do. And yet . . . he saw no way to escape. He lacked the magic to fight. He’d even lost the staff, his best weapon.
Wait. That isn’t my only weapon.
Even as the lightning flared within the dragon’s eye, just about to strike him, Tamwyn jumped to his feet. In the same instant, he tore his dagger from its sheath. The blade—forged by elven metalsmiths ages ago in the land of Lost Fincayra, infused with power that could serve only the true heir of Merlin, and destined for battle against the tyrant Rhita Gawr—shone with starlight, as well as a deeper light of its own.
With a shout that he knew might be his last, Tamwyn lunged. Just before the bolt of black lightning erupted, he plunged his dagger into the very center of the dragon’s eye.
24 • A Surprising Turn
Aaaarrrgghh!” The black dragon’s mighty roar reverberated across the sky. Partly a shout of rage, partly a shriek of pain, the roar was so powerful that it even affected the Heart of Pegasus. The star’s dying flames—all that remained of the magical doorway between Avalon and Earth—wavered like a windblown candle.
Even as he bellowed, Rhita Gawr whirled around with the speed of a celestial maelstrom. Bony wings outstretched, giant tail coiled, he spun in tight circles, reeling from Tamwyn’s unexpected attack. His enormous claws dug at his wounded eye, trying without success to remove the poisonous blade now lodged there.
Again he roared, this time entirely in wrath. Because of that treacherous human, he had lost the sight in one eye—and something equally precious, the sweet taste of conquest. Right now, he couldn’t even feel the thrill of his plans to control Avalon and the worlds beyond. No, he could feel only endless rage at that miserable young wizard.
Tamwyn, however, was already far away. As soon as his dagger had plunged into the eye, he’d leaped off
the dragon’s snout and into the open air. Wind tore at him as he fell, plummeting toward the darkening star. He knew that he would soon die, but at least he’d first inflicted a painful blow.
Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.
He cursed at himself as he spun downward. If only he weren’t such a lame excuse for a wizard. He could have done so much more than merely stab an eye. He could have flown on his own power! And fought Rhita Gawr to the death! Yes—and in the process, he could have possibly saved everything and everyone he cared about.
At that very instant, the wind surged. So strongly did it whip him that the whole front of his tunic wrenched sharply, pulling away from his body. Then, in an explosion of threads, his pocket ripped completely apart.
That was when Tamwyn realized that what he’d just felt was not the wind. It was not a force that he’d experienced before. It was not, in fact, anything he’d ever imagined.
It was Batty Lad.
And yet it was not Batty Lad. For, as Tamwyn watched in utter amazement, the scrawny little creature with crumpled wings and a curious green glow began to change. To grow. To swell to gargantuan size.
In just a few seconds, his wrinkled face expanded into a large head with teeth-studded jaws; his flappers, as flimsy as dead leaves, into broad and powerful wings. The tiny cupped ears grew to Tamwyn’s own height. The mouse’s feet became muscular legs with savage claws. His neck lengthened, as did his tail, which now culminated in a massive, bony club. And the splotchy fur that had covered his body transformed into gleaming green scales.
Even as he fell, Tamwyn blinked in astonishment. This creature was no longer anything like the bizarre little bat who had fit so easily in his pocket. He was now a dragon, grand and terrible, more than twenty times the size of Ahearna. The only similarity to his former self was the eerie green glow that burned within his eyes.
The great green dragon beat his wings and swerved in the air, flying beneath his falling companion. Gently, he raised his head, so that Tamwyn landed just beside one of his long pointy ears. The young man slowly stood, grasping the upright ear for support. He noticed with surprise how soft it felt, thanks to thousands of greenish yellow hairs that grew along its sides.