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barely, thrashing in agony as it crashed to the floor below.
Caution forgotten, Mareth and Kinson charged ahead. As they climbed, they caught sight of Bremen
higher up on the stairs, trapped between two hideous creatures that were advancing on him from the
landings above and below. The old man was bloodied and burned and clearly exhausted. Druid fire
flared at his fingertips, but would not ignite. The creatures who stalked him were taking their time.
All three turned at the approach of the Border-man and the girl, startled.
 No! Go back! Bremen cried on seeing them.
But Mareth raced up the stairs and onto the lower landing with a sudden burst of speed, leaving a
surprised Kinson behind. She planted her feet and hunched down within her clothing like a coiled spring.
Her hands came up, her arms stretched wide, and her palms turned upward as if to beseech help from
the heavens.
Kinson exhaled in dismay and rushed after her. What was she doing? The monster closest to the girl
hissed in warning, whirled, and came at her, bounding down the stairs as swift as thought, claws
extended. Kinson cried out in anger. He was still too faraway!
Then Mareth simply exploded. There was a huge, booming cough, and the shock wave threw Kinson
against the wall. He lost sight of Mareth, Bremen, and the creatures. Fire burst upward from where
Mareth had been standing, a blue streak that burned white-hot. It ripped into the closest creature and
tore it apart. Then it found the second, where it was closing on Bremen, and bore it away, a leaf upon the
wind. The creature shrieked in dismay and was consumed. The fire raced on, burning along the stone
walls and stairs, swallowing the air and turning it to smoke.
Kinson shielded his eyes and struggled to his feet. The fire disappeared, gone in an instant. Only the
smoke remained, thick clouds of it filling the stairwell. Kinson charged up the steps and found Mareth
collapsed on the landing. He lifted her, cradling her limp body. What had happened to her? What had she
done? She was as light as a feather, her small features pale and streaked with soot, her short dark hair a
damp helmet about her face. Her eyes were half-closed and staring. Through the slits, he could see they
had turned white. He bent close. She didn t seem to be breathing.
He couldn t find a pulse.
Bremen appeared abruptly before him, materializing out of the haze, disheveled and wild-eyed.  Take
her out of here! he shouted.
 But I don t think she s ... he tried to argue.
 Quick, Kinson! Bremen cut him short.  Now, if you want to save her, get out of the Keep! Go!
Kinson turned without a word and hastened down the stairs, Mareth in his arms, Bremen trailing in a
ragged swirl of torn robes. Down through the Keep they stumbled, coughing and choking on the smoke,
eyes tearing. Then Bremen heard something rumbling in the earth beneath. It was the sound of something
waking, something huge and angry, something so vast it was unimaginable.
 Run! Bremen cried once more, needlessly.
Together, the Borderman and the Druid fled through the smoky gloom of dead Paranor toward
daylight and life.
The Search for the Black Elfstone.
Chapter Eight
fter leaving Bremen, Tay Trefenwyd proceeded west along the Mermidon through the mountains that
A
formed the southern arm of the Dragon s Teeth. Sunset arrived, and he camped for the night still within
their shelter, then set out again at daybreak. The new day was clear and mild, last night s winds having
swept the land clean, the sun dazzling. The Elf worked his way down out of the foothills to the grasslands
below the Streleheim and prepared to cross. Ahead, he could see the forests of the Westland, and
beyond, their tips coated in white, the peaks of the Rock Spur. Arborion was another day s walk, so he
traveled at a leisurely pace, his thoughts occupied by all that had happened since Bremen s arrival at
Paranor.
Tay Trefenwyd had known Bremen for almost fifteen years, longer even than Risca. He had met him at
Paranor, before his banishment, Tay newly arrived from Arborion, a Druid in training. Bremen had been
old even then, but with a harder edge to his personality and a sharper tongue as well. Bremen in those
days had been a firebrand burning with truths self-evident to him but incomprehensible to everyone else.
The Druids at Paranor had dismissed him as being just this side of mad. Kahle Rese and one or two
others valued his friendship and listened patiently to what he had to say, but the rest mostly looked for
ways to avoid him.
Not Tay. From the first moment they met, Tay had been mesmerized. Here was someone who
believed it was important  even necessary  to do more than talk about the problems of the Four
Lands. It wasn t sufficient simply to study and converse on issues; it was necessary to act on them as
well. Bremen believed that the old ways were better, that the Druids of the First Council had been right in
involving themselves in the progress of the Races. Noninvolvement was a mistake that would end up
costing everyone dearly. Tay understood and believed. Like Bremen, he studied the old lore, the ways of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]