The Grand Crusade (55 page)

The human fell into the elf’s life and felt his attention being dragged in all directions. Kerrigan fought to keep himself together, but he felt like oil poured on an infinite sea. He might calm the water, but he was being pulled to the point of transparency.

He focused on healing Magarric’s wounds. The cuts from the axes, the pinpricks from the draconette balls, and the vicious stabs that Quiarsca continued to inflict, all drained life from Magarric. She drove the staff into his flesh—into our flesh—and twisted it. Tendrils of pain flooded through them—us—and the part that was yet Kerrigan struggled to repair the damage. He sought out every other anomaly and malady. He pushed the encysted stone from his chest, found even more ancient scars, and repaired them.

Kerrigan plunged through the center of Magarric’s being and into thecorüesciitself. He could see all that was happening from every angle, all at once. The Loquelves had driven into theturekadine, but had been surrounded. Some of the Aurolani creatures raced past them and engaged Grey Misters. One of theturekadinebroke free and sprinted, with a bloody sword upraised, toward Kerrigan’s back. The youth knew the sword would just bounce off the armor, so wasn’t concerned.

Resolute, dueling with aturekadine, and Bok, blastingnyressanüwith spells,

never saw theturekadineget loose, though Quiarsca did. She laughed triumphantly, driving her staff deep enough to crack an entire step.

That stab shook Magarric. Kerrigan could feel the damage penetrating to the elf’s heart. One more strike and she would kill him. She knew that; he could read it on her face and in the slow, deliberate way she pulled the staff free and raised it for one final thrust. No one was near enough to her to stop her.

Except me.

Kerrigan sought inside himself quickly and pushed a spell out through Magarric and into thecorüesci. Quiarsca’s staff came down. The glittering, needle-sharp point sped toward the crack in the wood. The wound already wept with golden sap. The staff would gouge deeper than before, through to the heartwood. It would kill Magarric, kill thecorüesci, and complete the subjugation of Vorquellyn with one swift stroke.

Only the staff came apart in Quiarsca’s grasp. Fashioned from a single emerald crystal, the staff shattered as dragonbone armor rose to shield the wound. Sharp slivers of green crystal pierced her hands, face, torso, and thighs. By reflex she raised her hands to her face, further shredding her flesh. She screamed, blood flowing from the empty eyes.

Magarric’s consciousness flooded through Kerrigan.What have you done? You gave your armor to us. You are defenseless.

Kerrigan closed his eyes and waited for theturekadinesword to split him crown to waist.Youmustlive.

Distantly, as if from a thousand leagues away, he heard Resolute scream his name. Closer he heard theturekadine’slabored breath. He could feel the thunder of the footfalls. He braced for the hiss of sword through air and that initial crack, as the sword shattered his skull. He half wondered if he’d hear the pops of parting vertebrae. With his last conscious thought, he shoved Magarric away so the blow would not kill him, too.

The blow seemed to take forever to land. Kerrigan half wondered if that was because the legends were true: that in the moment of death your life flashed before your eyes. With so long a wait he’d have enough time, he thought, to watch Magarric’s life, too.Hurry, now, be done with it!

He expected a hiss and a crack.

He got a squeal and a gurgle.

Kerrigan spun and rolled onto his back as the sword that would have cloven him in two dropped to the ground with a clatter. There, a good twelve feet in the air, theturekadinestruggled. Its legs thrashed. Its eyes bulged. Its tongue protruded from its mouth, rapidly turning purple. It clawed at the hand wrapped around its throat, but those efforts weakened quickly, then its hands went limp.

Standing there, facing away from Kerrigan, was a man-shaped thing of stone. It was the same obsidian of the hand that had been sticking out of the floor.That was the rock I pushed out of Magarric. The figure had to be at least eight feet tall, and far broader than Will had ever been.Broader even than Dranae.

Kerrigan scrambled to his feet and slapped the figure on the back. “Don’t worry, Will, we’ll get you out of here. There has to be a way. Thank you.”

The creature turned its head toward him. It had no ears, no nose, no mouth. It had no eyes per se, though two spots on its face glowed red-gold, as had the lava that had consumed Will. It regarded him for a moment, then its head swiveled back and faced the battle, with the deadturekadinestill dangling from its upheld hand.

Kerrigan looked toward the entrance just in time to see Quiarsca scrambling up the bloodied steps. She was trying to escape, blindly clawing her way along on hands and knees. She did her best to move swiftly, but the very wood seemed to impede her. Her hands rose with difficulty, and her robe stuck to the steps.

Magarric chuckled. “That which does not kill us makes us very testy. She is going nowhere.”

Resolute slashed his way past the lastturekadine, then bounded up the stairs to where thesullanciristruggled. She turned to look at him, and her left hand came up as if in supplication. She rolled onto her back, her hair caught in the sap that had risen at Magarric’s bidding.

With a simple thrust, Resolute drove Syverce through her heart. She stiffened at once and, though her muscles then slackened, her body hung there on the steps, trapped. More sap flowed, welling up around her, slowly encapsulating her corpse.

Elsewhere Bok burned the life from the last of thenyressanü. Trawyn knelt beside one of her company and closed his eyes. Wounded Grey Misters looted the bodies of theturekadine, several of them brandishing draconettes. Resolute, at the top of the stairs, pointed toward the doorway.

“You’ve closed us in.”

“I’ve closed them out.” Magarric strode forward. “Let those who are wounded smear their hurts with the sap from the stairs. It will speed healing. For the dead I can do nothing but offer my tears.”

Kerrigan ran after him and caught him by the shoulder. “What about Will? What can you do about him?”

Magarric turned. “Who is Will?”

Kerrigan pointed at the stone figure still holding up the deadturekadine. “That is Will. Will is in there. We have to get him out.”

Trawyn, Bok, and Resolute reached Kerrigan and Magarric as the ancient elf shook his head. “You did not come for Will. You came for theNorrington. There he is.”

Kerrigan’s stomach collapsed in on itself. He stumbled back and would have sat down hard, but Resolute’s hands steadied him. “What?”

“Oh, Kerrigan, we didn’t listen.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand!”

Resolute’s voice tightened. “Oracle said the Norrington was waiting for us. She never saidWill. Will died on Vael, butthe Norringtonsurvived.”

Tears began to blur Kerrigan’s vision. “How?” He began to sob. “How can that be? I didn’t save him then, and I wanted to save him now. How

”

Resolute shifted and hugged Kerrigan tight. “I don’t know, Kerrigan, but I can guess. Will wasn’t really Will, you know.”

“I know. His name was Wilburforce. He told me.”

“Well, maybe Will was just part of the Norrington. The part of him that had to get to a point where he could change. And somehow he knew it. Just like his father and grandfather had changed, so would he. We lost Will on Vael, but here we find the Norrington.”

Something fluttered against Kerrigan’s stomach. Qwc struggled free of the cloth-and-leather cocoon, then flew straight toward the obsidian figure. Qwc circled him once, then landed on his right shoulder. The Spritha cupped all four hands to its mouth and whispered where an ear should have been.

Theturekadinefell with a thump as the hand opened, then the left arm lowered and the figure started forward. For a creature made of stone, the Norrington moved lightly. Theturekadine’sheavy tread had been much easier to feel. As the Norrington drew closer it became obvious that the right shoulder had developed a depression in it that fit Qwc snugly.

The Spritha patted the Norrington on the shoulder. “Go. Go. Will wants to go.”

Resolute gave Kerrigan another squeeze. “Qwc, that’s not Will.”

“Look closer. Qwc sees.”

Kerrigan’s head came up. He couldn’t see anything, could he? Was there a flash in the eyes? Was there something about the movement of a hand? The thing did move as lightly as Will had. Was that what Qwc saw, or did the Spritha manage to see beyond the shell to what lurked within?

Resolute released Kerrigan and moved in the direction of the door. “Qwc’s right. We have to get going. There’s probably a horde of them out there.”

Magarric shook his head. “The warrens are all but empty, and we have a few tricks to keep them occupied while you leave.”

The silver-eyed Vorquelf frowned. “You say that as if you are staying here.”

“We are. We will keep the fragments here.”

Trawyn shook her head. “Is that wise? Their presence in acorüesciwill be

”

Magarric looked at her. “Distracting enough to drive us insane?”

“Forgive me, my lord.”

“Easily done, child.” The Vorquelf smiled. “The fragments will be safe here with us until you succeed. If you don’t, we’ll wander again with them.”

Trawyn adjusted the patch over her eye. “You said there were warrens. This is where Chytrine bred troops?”

“Some of them. The ones you see here, thekryalniri—which are not nearly as nasty as the originals, and the lesser ones, too.”

“And you say the warrens are empty?”

“All but a few. Many went to Loquellyn, and we would imagine others went east.”

invented it is quite talented for one so young.“ Chytrine breathed into the air and within the vapor an image of Kerrigan appeared.

Isaura gasped. “He is the one who slew Neskartu.”

“Hardly a surprise. He is a curious mix of Vilwanese, Murosan, and other magicks. He has been instructed by dragons and my father, of course. What is fascinating is that the magick he used to find me was innovative. I have reshaped it to search for fragments of the DragonCrown. It has been successful in searching them out.

“Two I have here, and one is on Vael. The Ruby is in Oriosa. Scrainwood has hidden it, but I know where it is. Once Anarus destroys the army there, I will send him for it.” Chytrine rubbed scaled hands together. “I have had some reports of two other fragments—the Sapphire and Vorquellyn’s lost Diamond. Given the direction they were moving and their having vanished, along with Quiarsca’s death, I shall assume they are on Vorquellyn and in thecorüesci. You, my sweet one, will be vital to opening that place so we may complete the Crown.”

“Of course, Mother, I will be happy to do anything.” Isaura hoped she managed to keep her voice light. “What of the seventh fragment?”

“Ah, this is the most important thing. As with the Vorquellyn fragment, it was well warded against conventional searching spells. Now, however, I am able to locate it—at least intermittently. I am casting the spell south hourly, and there are times I find it and times I do not. The simple fact, however, is that it is now available to me.”

Her mother’s gleeful cackle made Isaura shiver.

“The very best part of it all, daughter, is that it appears to be traveling with Princess Alexia and coming directly into our trap. Once I have it, and secure the other pieces, the dragons will give me the Truestone they hold at Vael. Then I will complete the Crown and my Masters’ will shall again be the law of the lands.”

“That is wonderful, Mother. Shall you send me to Vorquellyn now?”

The empress’s forked tongue flicked out for a moment, then she shook her head. “No, I cannot. The searching takes my time and I need you here.”

“Do you wish to teach me the spell? I could search for you.”

Her mother slowly shuffled around the center of the dark tower room, then turned quickly to face her, giving her a start. “Perhaps that would be a good idea, yes. Come here.”

Isaura drifted forward obediently, stopping before her mother. Chytrine reached up and pressed her right palm to Isaura’s forehead, sinking her talons into her daughter’s hair. The flesh felt dry, yet warm against her skin. The talons bit into her scalp ever so slightly, and she became certain her mother could crush her skull with an absentminded twitch.

Chytrine closed her eyes and heat built against Isaura’s forehead. She resisted her mother’s presence for a moment, then the spell burst into her consciousness. In an instant the young woman grasped it and its elegance. All the disparate elements of it had been woven together brilliantly. All one had to do was define parameters for the search and fix the information transfer point for the heralds, and the spell would work, as well as insulate the user from detection. She especially liked how the sorcerer had shielded the searching spells in such a way that the shields themselves could mislead anyone trying to locate the source of the spell.

Isaura took a step back, then raked fingers through her white hair. “Oh, yes, Mother, I understand it. As you need, I shall help you.”

“I know you will, Isaura-sweet.” The empress again flashed fangs as she smiled. “I regret having been so hasty as to have killed the creator of this spell. Had I been able to make him over into one of mysullancirihe would have been a fitting replacement for Neskartu—exceeding him by leaps and bounds.”

“Yes, Mother, that is a shame.” Isaura hesitated, then spoke. “You said two fragments are on Vorquellyn. Does that mean they have gone there and freed the Norrington?”

Chytrine nodded as she turned and walked back to a workbench covered with books, scrolls, alembics, vials, and a small chest of drawers full of things ancient and rare. “I assume they have. It is as I have intended.”

“How can that be? He is the one fated to destroy you.”

“Oh he is, yes, but it becomes a question ofwhen, my darling.” The empress turned back and wove her fingers together. “You must understand something vital. A prophecy carries with it a great deal of potential. Because of it all possibilities narrow, as if its fulfillment is the eye of a needle and all that can possibly happen needs to fit through or be excluded from the future. The Norrington Prophecy could cover any Norrington. That is why I have collected them. During this era, the prophecy is further energized because a rash youth, Tarrant Hawkins, made a pledge that Vorquellyn would be liberated in his lifetime. I was hoping to free some of that energy when he was slain, but that was not to be. Yet. So as the Norrington gets closer to fulfilling the prophecy and possibilities squeeze down, more power gathers, and that is the power I need.”