FORBIDDEN TALENTS (53 page)

Saeun nodded, wincing at the pain.
“
What will happen now?
”

“
I know not. Only the Norns can see the Fate they weave.
”

*

“
I can’t sleep,
”
Celia said. She was as tired as the others and she knew she ought to rest but she couldn’t close her eyes, not with Quartzholm about to fall.
“
I’ll keep watch with Baruq and Annatt.
”

The Elf’s damaged arm had nearly recovered, thanks to Valender’s efforts. But Ragni’s hand remained twisted and hidden in his mitten.
A good orthopedic surgeon might be able to help him. Or a burn specialist. And Che’veyo could use an ophthalmologist
. It was one of her few regrets about leaving Midgard: giving up modern medicine.
Assuming a medical doctor could even treat a magical injury
. And no orthopedist could have healed Saeun’s arm as Valender had.

“
No, my lady. You need to rest,
”
Fender protested.

“
I’m sure Valender could help you sleep,
”
Saeun said.

“
Or I,
”
Che’veyo added.

“
Your worry and wakefulness cannot help him, Celia,
”
Ragni said.
“
Dahl would want you to take care of yourself and the child.
”

“
Will you let me use the Dream-door?
”
Celia asked.

“
Of course not!
”
Ragni said, looked offended she’d even asked.

“
That would be worse than no sleep at all,
”
Valender said.

“
Then I’ll keep watch.
”

“
Celia—
”
Fender started.

“
A little lost sleep won’t harm her,
”
Utta intervened.
“
Watch for a while. I’ll relieve you in a few hours.
”

Celia smiled her gratitude at Utta for her support. Surprisingly, the others backed off.

In a short time, everyone was settled down in their blankets. Annatt kept watch several paces back along the way they’d come up the tunnel; she and Baruq watched at the entrance. The air was still, but it was bitterly cold in the pre-dawn hour. Baruq had even accepted the offer of Saeun’s extra scarf and wrapped it like a cloak around his shoulders, the edge dragging on the ground behind him. They didn’t speak, and Celia was grateful the little man-thing didn’t try to offer empty hope and reassurance. On the other hand, the situation must be really bad if the cocky little
pinnsvin
wouldn’t even boast about how his fellows still in Quartzholm would save the day.

Saeun and Treskin returned and settled in quietly among the others.
What a bombshell she dropped on Ragni
. He hadn’t said a word after she left to plant her—what? Sister? Cousin? Celia winced at the memory. When Saeun and Treskin had returned there’d been a flurry of activity of warming her, and Valender healing her wound. Ragni had watched, an agony of concern and confusion in his eyes.

He’d tried to speak to her.
“
It doesn’t matter.
”

Saeun wouldn’t look at him. She just shook her head.

“
It doesn’t!
”

“
It does matter,
”
Saeun said in a soft, dark voice.
“
It matters to me. I have
…
kin
…
I never knew. What does that make me? Where do I belong? Certainly not in Quartzholm.
”

Ragni opened his mouth and shut it, his jaw muscles working. He reached out and tried to turn her toward him, but she resisted his touch. Shoulders slumping, he dropped his hand.

Celia had to turn away from the pain on her friends’ faces.

She looked up at the sky. A few stars twinkled between the branches of the trees crowding close. She didn’t understand why they were torturing themselves over this. Saeun was still Saeun. The same woman Ragni had fallen in love with.

She wondered how Dahl would feel about having a dryad in the family.

What’s he doing now
?
Is he asleep
? She wished she could use the Dream-door, but it was almost dawn. Dahleven would be up by now, if he’d slept at all, giving orders for the defense of their home.

Their home. That’s how she thought of it now, modern medicine or no. Quartzholm was home, because that was where Dahleven was. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

She put her hand over her belly. She wanted this baby,
their
baby, even if she hadn’t planned it. And she wanted their child to know his father’s love and laughter and strength and honor.

Dahleven can’t die before he even knows he’s going to have a son
.

Ever so slowly, the eastern sky began to lighten. The wind started to rise along with the sun. It soughed through the branches overhead, but didn’t reach them on the ground.

“
As good as my hearing is, lady, I’ll never hear if someone approaches with this wind. And in this forest, neither of us can see far enough to give much warning,
”
Baruq said.
“
I’m going to go down to the tree line to watch.
”

“
I’ll come, too,
”
Celia said. She had to see this
myst
, and Quartzholm, for herself. She tiptoed back to where the others still slept and snagged her snowshoes without waking anyone.

The sun had crested the mountains by the time they came to the meadow’s edge. Celia stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, and blinked again, not quite able to take in what she saw.

Half a mile downslope, Quartzholm’s pink stone walls backed up against the ridge. No mist obscured the castle or the village that skirted it. The town was eerily quiet where the business of the day should have been starting to bustle. But even stranger, a huge aspen grove now crowded the streets of the village, bare branches shining white in the sunlight.

*

Dahleven sat across from Magnus in the men’s mess and drank his meager ration of water. Gods, he was thirsty. They all were. Only a few other men sat scattered among the tables. It was early yet for the morning meal, but they’d both been up all night. Even if Celia had tried to use the Dream-door last night it would have been no use.

His last shred of hope of saving Quartzholm had died with Wirmund. He wished he could hold Celia just one more time, but he was glad she was well away from here. He hoped she was all right. He hadn’t heard from her in days.

When Dahleven came back to the conversation, Magnus was still discussing contingencies.
“
…
as rear guard for the evacuation of the women—
”

Abruptly, Dahleven held up a hand to stop Magnus. Something had changed.

Magnus raised his head like a hound sniffing the air.
“
What in Niflheim?
”

Without a word, they both rose.

Rose colored sunlight was just tipping the highest towers as they reached the courtyard. The Stoneshapers were shouting back and forth to one another.

“
It’s stopped over here, too!
”
Someone on the south wall called.

“
And here!
”

“
Not here!
”
Another on the northwest wall called.
“
The wall’s still shaking over here.
”

“
What’s going on?
”
Dahleven asked one of the guards.

“
My lord! A moment ago the—
”

“
Hoi! Hoi!
”
The watch on the east wall shouted.
“
Trees!
”

Dahleven ran for the stairs, Magnus on his heels.
What in the Nine Worlds is going on
?

“
Where’d they come from?
”
He heard one of his men call as he climbed.

“
Where’s the mist?
”

“
Never mind the mist, what are those things down below?
”

“
Stone-warriors, ain’t they?
”

“
Why aren’t they moving?
”

Dahleven had just reached the parapet when someone asked,
“
Hey! What’s that noise?
”

Dahleven wasn’t in any doubt.
“
That noise
”
was the sound of weopons smashing and troops fighting for their lives. Only they weren’t his troops. The clash of arms was coming from outside the walls. Trees wouldn’t attack with swords, and it was too soon for Magnus’s messengers to have brought reinforcements—if they got through. Who was fighting?

He looked over the frost-rimed wall, shading his eyes from the sunlight.

The obscuring mist was gone. At the base of the wall, stone-warriors stood in the gleaming light, rigid and unmoving. Some of them seemed frozen in the act of reaching into the wall, others were looking back over their shoulders, half turned toward the grove of aspen trees that ringed them and Quartzholm, crowded in the streets and alleys of the village below. Through the lace of bare branches, he couldn’t see much of the combat beyond the flashing of swords and armor, but the sounds of effort and pain and dying were clear enough.

“
Daylight,
”
Dahleven said, as Magnus came up beside him breathing heavily.
“
The sun must have stopped them.
”

Magnus nodded.
“
Aye. But it’s only a temporary reprieve. If the stories about them are true, they’ll come back to life come nightfall.
”

“
Or when that unnatural fog returns.
”
Dahleven stared at the mounds of man-shaped stone below.
Unless
…

“
Komigg!
”
Dahleven shouted to the Commander of the east wall.
“
I want half your men ready to go through the gates in a quarter-mark, armed with hammers and iron bars. Anything that can smash stone. Send runners to the other walls to send half their men as well.
”
As he pelted down the stairs, he shouted to Magnus,
“
Gather the Stoneshapers. They can help, too. We haven’t much time. We don’t know who’s fighting out there, or what the outcome will be. I want those stone-warriors to be rubble by the time we find out.
”

Soon the air around Quartzholm rang with the sound of iron on stone. Dahleven ranged half the men to guard the approach to the walls, but commanded them not to touch the trees. His men hardly needed the warning. They cast nervous glances at the unexpected forest and kept well away from it.

Shouts of battle sent Dahleven running to the northwest section of the wall. In the shadows where the morning sun hadn’t yet reached, ten of his men fought living stone-warriors. Five men lay unmoving on the ground, and the blows of those still fighting skittered harmlessly off their foes.

“
Back! Back into the light!
”
Dahleven shouted.

The men retreated hastily, but not before one lithic foe landed a last blow, killing another man. The stone-warriors stopped at the shadow’s edge, then stepped back as the sunlight crept toward them.

“
Wait until the sun rises a little higher. Then you can have your way with them,
”
Dahleven said and returned to the east wall.

A cold blue sky arched overhead, and the smell of stone dust filled the air. As the sun rose higher, the stone-warriors grew smaller, worn away by the incessant blows of hammers wielded by men eager to unleash their anger and frustration upon a foe at last. They’d become little more than indistinct lumps of sand where certain Talents had been busy.

By mid-morning, the sounds of battle—at least, what could be heard over the sound of rock being smashed—ceased. Should he order his men back inside the walls? How much damage did they have to do before the stone-warriors were destroyed beyond sunset’s ability to restore them?

“
Lord Dahleven!
”
An armsman called, alarm shading his voice.