drew her attention to the bronze gargoylesthat leered down from every major door and gateway in the New Keep, forgotten through the long years and unseen by those who passed by every day. Now their leers had grown tortured, contorted beyond the grotesque into silent screams. Malian let her awareness settle on a verdigris-rimed gargoyle that crouched above the main entrance into the High Hall.
‘“Ware,” she whispered to it. ‘“Ware foes, ‘ware terror, ‘ware treachery by night!” She felt it shudder, heard the faint shiver of sound that ran through it, but nothing more happened.
“You must try harder, Child.”
Malian felt the urgency of the Fire in her mind, and also its fear, matching her own.
“They are slaying your clan and your kin. Do not whisper the alarm
—
thunder it through the keep! It is in your hands, and yours alone, Heir of Night!”
The Fire’s power burned along her veins, searing every nerve ending and flaring from her mind into the gargoyle, wreathing it in golden flame. Far down in the Old Keep, Kalan threw up his free arm to protect his eyes from the light that snapped out of her.
“Awake!” Malian cried at the top of her voice. “’Ware foes! ’Ware blood! ’Ware ruin in the night! Awake, Earl of Night! To arms, Keep of Winds!”
All through the New Keep the gargoyles sprang fiercely into life, yammering out her call to arms in a wild clangor that went on and on and did not stop. Malian heard the shouting and clatter of weaponry, the war cries and the rush of running feet as she swept through the darkness like a flame.
“Awake, Nhairin!” she commanded. “To arms, Asantir! Treachery and blood! Awake, Earl of Night!” she cried again, and felt the flash of her father’s mind, like a blade being drawn to cross hers before she sprang away. She heard the sudden outcry, and the clash of steel on steel, and knew that the intruders had been discovered at last.
“‘Ware foes!” Malian shook the keep with one last call. She felt weary now, ready to return through the Old Keep to its heart, her place of safety.
Something caught at her mind and held on; a suffocatingdarkness coiled itself around her. Malian felt a terrible hunger that sought to drain her soul and her power with it, down to the marrow—and realized that she had forgotten the Raptor of Darkness, was not even thinking of it as she turned away. It would have leached her to a husk in an instant if she had not been filled with raging wildfire and linked to Kalan in the heart of the Old Keep. Even so, she felt the protective link waver as darkness dragged at her soul, inexorable as an ebb tide.
Malian screamed and fought back, struggling to sear the engulfing darkness with fire while holding on to the link to Kalan. She heard Kalan scream, too, pouring his strength into hers and pushing back against that terrible, draining force. For a moment their resistance held, but Malian could feel the Raptor’s satisfaction and its greed beating in on her, and knew, in a blinding flash of terror, that it was far, far stronger than she was. Struggle though she would, she could not break free, and already her strength was fading. Kalan was cursing; she could hear him far down in her mind, while the darkness crept in and her last defences crumbled.
Is this how Yorindesarinen felt at the end, Malian wondered, with the Worm’s venom in her veins and her lifeblood draining away?
The thought of the hero rallied her, like a star blazing in darkness, and she clung to it like a spar. She felt her attacker pause, its malice and hunger hesitating for a single instant, and a new voice, calm and yet compelling, spoke in her head:
“Hold on. Help is coming! “
Fire snapped back into her mind, flinging the darkness back. There was someone standing in the heart of the fire, Malian thought dizzily, as the image of a man scored itself into her brain; he seemed made of flame and lightning coruscated around him. Someone else stood in his
‘“Ware,” she whispered to it. ‘“Ware foes, ‘ware terror, ‘ware treachery by night!” She felt it shudder, heard the faint shiver of sound that ran through it, but nothing more happened.
“You must try harder, Child.”
Malian felt the urgency of the Fire in her mind, and also its fear, matching her own.
“They are slaying your clan and your kin. Do not whisper the alarm
—
thunder it through the keep! It is in your hands, and yours alone, Heir of Night!”
The Fire’s power burned along her veins, searing every nerve ending and flaring from her mind into the gargoyle, wreathing it in golden flame. Far down in the Old Keep, Kalan threw up his free arm to protect his eyes from the light that snapped out of her.
“Awake!” Malian cried at the top of her voice. “’Ware foes! ’Ware blood! ’Ware ruin in the night! Awake, Earl of Night! To arms, Keep of Winds!”
All through the New Keep the gargoyles sprang fiercely into life, yammering out her call to arms in a wild clangor that went on and on and did not stop. Malian heard the shouting and clatter of weaponry, the war cries and the rush of running feet as she swept through the darkness like a flame.
“Awake, Nhairin!” she commanded. “To arms, Asantir! Treachery and blood! Awake, Earl of Night!” she cried again, and felt the flash of her father’s mind, like a blade being drawn to cross hers before she sprang away. She heard the sudden outcry, and the clash of steel on steel, and knew that the intruders had been discovered at last.
“‘Ware foes!” Malian shook the keep with one last call. She felt weary now, ready to return through the Old Keep to its heart, her place of safety.
Something caught at her mind and held on; a suffocatingdarkness coiled itself around her. Malian felt a terrible hunger that sought to drain her soul and her power with it, down to the marrow—and realized that she had forgotten the Raptor of Darkness, was not even thinking of it as she turned away. It would have leached her to a husk in an instant if she had not been filled with raging wildfire and linked to Kalan in the heart of the Old Keep. Even so, she felt the protective link waver as darkness dragged at her soul, inexorable as an ebb tide.
Malian screamed and fought back, struggling to sear the engulfing darkness with fire while holding on to the link to Kalan. She heard Kalan scream, too, pouring his strength into hers and pushing back against that terrible, draining force. For a moment their resistance held, but Malian could feel the Raptor’s satisfaction and its greed beating in on her, and knew, in a blinding flash of terror, that it was far, far stronger than she was. Struggle though she would, she could not break free, and already her strength was fading. Kalan was cursing; she could hear him far down in her mind, while the darkness crept in and her last defences crumbled.
Is this how Yorindesarinen felt at the end, Malian wondered, with the Worm’s venom in her veins and her lifeblood draining away?
The thought of the hero rallied her, like a star blazing in darkness, and she clung to it like a spar. She felt her attacker pause, its malice and hunger hesitating for a single instant, and a new voice, calm and yet compelling, spoke in her head:
“Hold on. Help is coming! “
Fire snapped back into her mind, flinging the darkness back. There was someone standing in the heart of the fire, Malian thought dizzily, as the image of a man scored itself into her brain; he seemed made of flame and lightning coruscated around him. Someone else stood in his
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