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Los pushed Gavril back and swung his sword at the shapeshifter s belly.
His sword glanced off the creature s hide without effect, and the shapeshifter
sank its poisonous fangs into Sir Los s throat. Sir Los screamed, a high,
keening sound of death, and his sword fell from his slack fingers as the
creature pulled his body up into the air and drained the life from it.
With shouts, Sir Polquin and Sir Terent rushed at it, striking to no avail.
Through the
Hall, there was shouting and pandemonium. Lord Odfrey and Lord Renald bellowed
orders that went unheeded in the confusion.
The priest held up his brass Circle, but retreated, wailing a prayer aloud.
Someone rushed to grab one of the torches and whirled it about so that the
flames popped and guttered. Gavril rushed foolishly at the shapeshifter,
brandishing his Circle and his jeweled dagger, and Lord Odfrey flung himself
at the prince to save him. One of the shapeshifter s leathery wings struck
Lord Odfrey and knocked him sprawling to the floor.
He lay still, unconscious or perhaps dead, his forehead bloody.
Sir Bosquecel grabbed Lord Odfrey s shoulders and dragged him out of the
thing s reach just as it struck viciously. Its fangs snapped on thin air, and
it screamed in rage.
 Back, demon of the second world! Gavril shouted.
The shapeshifter turned on the prince, who flung his dagger at it. The pretty
little weapon bounced harmlessly off the creature and clattered on the floor.
Gavril brandished his Circle.  By my faith, I order you back!
The shapeshifter shimmered and suddenly took man-form again It laughed, a
horrible guttural sound that could never have been made by a mortal throat,
then shifted back into its true form. It flapped its wings and snapped at
Gavnl, unfazed by his religious talisman. .
Gavril s face had turned white. His hand trembled as it held the Circle even
higher.
 This is a holy object. It must drive you back!
The shapeshifter lunged again, snapping its poisonous jaws right in Gavril s
face.
He dropped his Circle and cringed back, flinging up his hands to ward off the
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creature.  No! No! he screamed in terror. Dain was the closest to the prince.
Without thinking, he whirled around and grabbed a handful of salt from the
seasoning bowl on the table, then stooped and picked up Truthseeker. The
embroidered cloth fell away from the carved blade as Dain swung it up and
around.
The shapeshifter seized the prince in its talons and reared back its snakelike
head to strike. Running to them, Dain flung his handful of salt at the monster
and shouted,  By salt and holy steel do I banish you from this world!
The salt stung the hide of the shapeshifter, which shrieked in agony and began
to flail like something crazed. One of its wing tips nearly knocked Dain off
his feet. Ducking, he regained his balance, but the shapeshifter s talons were
tearing long gashes in Gavril s legs. The prince screamed. Gripping
Truthseeker with both hands, Dain lifted the heavy sword. In that instant, he
felt its power come to life, channeling up his wrists and arms all the way to
his heart. He heard himself say words that he did not understand, yet they
made the very air thunder. His bard crystal pendant sang a note so piercing
and pure that Dain s ears rang. He swung with all his might.
Bursting into flames as it whistled through the air, the god-steel blade
sliced through the shapeshifter s thin neck and set it afire. In seconds, the
creature s entire body was ablaze. It screamed and shrieked, writhing in its
death throes, then exploded into ashes that rained down upon Dain.
In the sudden silence, the air reeked of smoke and Nonkind stench.
Truthseeker s blade flashed fire a moment longer, its power shaking Dain s
teeth. He could feel his whole body glowing and his hair standing on end. Then
the flames went out, the light in dimmed, its power faded away, and it became
once more just a weapon of surpassing beauty.
Dain stood there, feeling weightless and light-headed. He could hear a roaring
sound, muted and far away. He saw individual faces that he recognized in
flickers of clarity.
Thum, his freckles standing out boldly in his white face. Sir Bosquecel
kneeling over Lord
Odfrey, who was holding his head and trying to sit up. Sir Polquin, also on
his knees, his lips moving but no sound coming forth. And Gavril, lying on the
floor near Dain, torn and bloody. The prince was crying with pain and the
aftermath of his fear, but he was alive.
Dain drew a deep breath, feeling neither relief nor regret, feeling nothing at
all. He had saved the life of his enemy; that was all he knew.
Suddenly Truthseeker was too heavy to hold. He struggled with it, knowing he
must not insult the blade by dropping it on the floor.
A hand gripped Dain s wrist, then gently took the hilt from his bloody grasp.
He realized dimly that his wound must have opened. He could feel blood running
down his arm inside his sleeve.
The hand belonged to Sir Terent. His ruddy face entered the diminishing circle
of
Dain s vision and knotted itself with concern.  Dain, he said.  Release .
Dain thought he had, but when he looked down, his fingers were still gripped,
knuckle-white, around the gold-wire hilt. Frowning, he forced his fingers to
loosen.
Sir Terent reverently took away and handed it to someone that Dain could not
see.
The absence of Truthseeker s weight was a relief. Now Dain had nothing left to
anchor him. He felt himself floating farther and farther away.  Dain, Sir
Terent said.  Dain, lad!
But the mists closed around Dain, and he was gone.
When he next opened his eyes, the sun was shining through a narrow window
straight onto his face. Squinting, Dain tried to lift his head, but it weighed
too much.
The pungent smell of herbs wafted beneath his nostrils, making him sneeze.
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Sulein bent over him, smiling through his dark, frizzy beard.  Ah, he is with
us again. This is good.
Dain glanced around, but he did not recognize the small, whitewashed room. Its
shuttered windows were open to admit the fragrant summer air. He lay in a tall
bed with heavy posts. Sulein retreated, and Lord Odfrey appeared at Dain s
bedside.
The chevard looked solemn and troubled. A bruise marred his brow, but
otherwise he looked hale. He seated himself gently on the side of the bed and
stared down at Dain.
 How are you, lad? he asked. His voice was gruff, and he cleared it loudly.
Dain considered the question.  Hungry. Amusement lit the chevard s dark eyes.
His smiled warmed his face and took the sternness away. Turning his head, he
asked Sulein to convey a message to the kitchen, then he swung his gaze back
to Dain.
 What, he asked mildly,  shall I do with you? Memory was returning to Dain
fast.
He frowned, feeling his worries return.  The trial, he said.  Will it finish
today?
 The trial is over, Lord Odfrey said.  No fault was found in you.
Dain grinned with relief.  No fault?
 None. You saved Prince Gavril s life in front of us all, or don t you
remember?
Dain frowned, the memories bobbing and turning in his mind.  Has his wound
been salted and cleansed in the proper way?
 Aye. And after all Gavril has done against you, I marvel that you care. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]