Shadows on the Stars (6 page)

“But why?” demanded Elli. “Coerria is the one in danger, not the Lady. And I must—”

At that instant, a strange green shoot, capped with a dark red bud, popped right out of the snow beside the unicorn. It shivered a bit, swelled in size, and lifted to its full height. Meanwhile, the bud swiftly opened into a magnificent flower.

Everyone, including the unicorn, stared at it.
A flower in winter?
thought Tamwyn, astonished.

Even if it hadn’t appeared in the midst of a snow field, atop a remote mountain peak, this flower would have seemed miraculous. Though only seconds old, it stood nearly as high as Elli’s knee, with a single bell-shaped blossom and no leaves. A deep red color glowed on its largest petals, while the rest were darker, the color of dried blood. It gave off a scent like lilac blossoms, which seemed impossibly sweet on this frozen mountainside.

The unicorn’s ears lay back, and she swished her flowing tail. Gracefully she bent her head to look more closely at the flower. Her great blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Tamwyn, though, felt a sudden sense of foreboding. He raised his hand, and was about to shout, when someone else called out first.

“Wait,” yelled Scree. He sprinted through the snow toward the unicorn, his muscular legs pumping. “This feels wrong. I’ve lived on mountains all my life, and never seen a flower like that!”

The unicorn simply ignored him. Bending her head to the flower, she sniffed at it with wide nostrils, drinking in the sweet smell.

“Wait!” shouted Scree and Tamwyn in unison.

Gently, she touched one of the bloodred petals with the tip of her spiraling horn. All at once, the flower exploded with a thunderous roar that echoed across the summit and the surrounding ridges. As if it had been made of glass, the flower shot out dozens of jagged shards—which struck the unicorn with devastating force.

She shrieked in agony, a heartrending whinny. Staggering, she fell on her side, kicking wildly in the snow. Her horn, which had been hit directly by several shards, lost its lustrous glow, sizzled, and then broke apart, crumbling into flecks of ash that blew across the slope. A shard had also lodged in her eye, tearing a wide gash in the crystalline blue. Meanwhile, all over her magnificent body—her long neck, her sturdy haunches, her elegant nose—gaping wounds appeared. Fountains of silver-blue blood spurted from them, staining the snow all around, as the creature writhed in pain, whinnying helplessly.

It was over in seconds. Elli, who had been standing behind the unicorn and so hadn’t been hit, screamed in horror. Before she could even think to pull out her gourd that was filled with healing waters from the Secret Spring of Halaad, the great being shivered and fell still.

The Sapphire Unicorn, whom bards had long celebrated as
the most elusive beauty in all the lands
, was no more.

Elli fell to her knees in the snow beside the gruesome corpse. “Why?” she cried, hurling her question across the mountainside.

Tamwyn charged forward, his mind reeling. Who had done this? Why would anyone destroy such a wondrous creature, the only one of her kind? To keep her from completing her mission for the Lady? Or some other reason?

Suddenly, he knew.
Rhita Gawr did this. I’m certain.
And then he realized something else: This terrible trap might not have been meant for the unicorn! That deadly flower could have been set to explode when the first person with any magical power touched it.

He caught his breath. That flower could have been meant for
him.

“Aaaagh,” came a moan from near the corpse. It was Scree!

Tamwyn, Elli, and Brionna ran over. Scree was crouching in the snow, squeezing his thigh, his rugged face contorted in pain. Blood dribbled from a tiny gash above his knee, soaking his leggings. “One of those shards . . . hit me. And it’s working its way in deeper, I can feel it.”

Bending his other leg with the dexterity of an eagleman, he scratched at the wound with his sharply pointed toenails, trying desperately to remove the shard. But the blood flowed freely, more than his scratching alone should have caused.

“Wait,” commanded Elli. “This will help.”

She pulled out her water gourd and poured several drops onto the wound. As the magical liquid seeped in, Brionna stepped to her side. The two women traded a grim glance, each of them recalling the day when that same water had healed the elf maiden’s gashes—and saved her life.

“Something’s wrong,” said Tamwyn anxiously. “The potion’s not working! “ He knelt and pressed his hand against his brother’s wound.

Blood flowed more and more, seeping through Tamwyn’s fingers. It poured over Scree’s thigh, painting the snow dark red. The young eagleman slumped back on the snow.

“Too much blood,” he said weakly. “Just a little thing . . . shouldn’t bleed like this.”

“And shouldn’t
keep
bleeding,” added Elli, confused. “Not after the water.”

Shim pushed his way through the snow, his face a mass of worried wrinkles. In his arms he carried Nuic, whose color had shifted to somber gray. The pinnacle sprite gazed down at Scree, then said, “This is evil, such as I haven’t seen since the War of Storms.”

“Have you got any herbs that could help?” asked Elli.

Nuic frowned. “No herbs can help with this. Nor any magic I know.”

“What are we going to do?” cried Brionna, her hands twisting the end of her long braid. “He’ll bleed to death.”

Elli turned to Tamwyn. “Your powers! Use them.”

He didn’t answer. For he was already wrestling with the same idea—and with his own fears. If he tried to call on his new powers, and lost control, he could destroy Scree. But if he did nothing—

He ground his teeth, thinking hard. All the other times he’d tried to direct those powers, to guide them with his thoughts, he’d failed. And he’d never dared to turn his powers on someone he knew and loved, someone he couldn’t even hope to think clearly about.

Think clearly about . . .

“Aaaagh,” Scree moaned painfully. He writhed on the snow, much as the unicorn had done just moments before. Elli touched his brow, her face contorted with fright.

Think clearly . . .

All at once, a new idea struck Tamwyn. Maybe thinking clearly wasn’t the point. Nor
any
kind of thinking! That could be just the wrong way to direct his magic. Maybe it had to be guided by something deeper than thought. Something not from his head, but from his heart.

“Tamwyn!” shouted Elli. “He’s going to die.”

“No,” he declared.

Placing both his hands on Scree’s thigh, he did more than just press against the wound. He closed his eyes, searching within himself for his powers, and for whatever feelings could guide them. But the only feeling he sensed now was fear. He could kill Scree with just the slightest mistake! And he didn’t even know what powers he was looking for. All he knew was that now, for the very first time, he desperately wanted to find them.

Come, my powers,
he commanded.
Grow strong! This time I really need you.

But he felt nothing. Just the surging of Scree’s blood, running thick and warm through his fingers.

He dug deeper into himself.
Powers, whatever you are, help me!
Now his strongest feeling was another kind of fear—for the life of his brother. And with it came an edge of panic, rising swiftly.

But he could tell that this still wasn’t enough. He searched his feelings, hurrying through emotions like a man dashing blindly through a forest at night. Loyalty. Guilt. Sympathy. Sorrow.

Nothing happened.

Then, from somewhere far away it seemed, he heard another long, wrenching moan.

Tamwyn’s eyes closed tighter, holding back his tears. He just couldn’t do it! Scree—his only brother, his only family—was dying. And it was Tamwyn’s fault. He could save him, even now, if only he knew how!

His hands gripped the bloody flesh more tightly. Memories flooded through him, visions of their rough-and-tumble adventures together as children, their quarrels, celebrations, discoveries, and losses. Their years of painful separation. Their surprising reunion, less than a month ago. Their special way of speaking that went beyond any words, any language known by others.

Don’t die, my brother. Please listen to me! Don’t die.

As the first tear flowed down Tamwyn’s face, the first tingling of magic started to flow out through his fingers. Down, down, down—deep into Scree’s skin, veins, muscles, and bones. Reaching for life. For love. For the bonds of two brothers. He tried to knit the flesh back together, to stem the bleeding. But even as he succeeded, he always found fresh wounds that seemed just beyond his grasp.

Don’t die, Scree. Don’t.

All at once, Tamwyn sensed that he had found something sharp. Something lethal. Something that didn’t belong. The shard! It was swimming away from him, out of his reach. Straight for Scree’s heart!

He lunged for it, but missed. Again he tried—and this time caught hold. He wrapped his magical fingers around it. Held it firmly. And started to pull it back—out of Scree’s body, into the open air. For an endless moment he carried it, holding tight.

Shaking, Tamwyn opened his eyes. There, in his hand, lay the bloodred shard.

What are you, evil thing? And who sent you?

He heard no answer. Instead, within his trembling fingers, the shard cracked, split into pieces, then dissolved into smoke. The dark red plume rose into the air and curled, snakelike, before wafting away on the wind. All that remained was the slightest scent of lilac blossoms, impossibly sweet.

Tamwyn’s gaze shifted to his brother, who had also opened his eyes. For several seconds they looked at each other in silence. Then Scree said in a hoarse whisper, “What took you so long?”

The corner of Tamwyn’s mouth lifted slightly. “Oh, you know me. Always a slow learner.” Bending closer, he added, “Just don’t ask me to do it again, all right?”

With effort, Scree wiped a drop of sweat from his hooked nose. “Don’t worry.”

Tamwyn straightened up, giving his brother’s muscular shoulder a squeeze. Along with feeling relieved, he felt amazed: He had, at least this once, used his powers—and used them well. Then he caught sight of Nuic, whose color had changed to a rich, burnished gold. The sprite merely growled, “Not bad for a beginner.”

Knowing he couldn’t receive a higher compliment from Nuic, Tamwyn gave him a nod.

“You is still full of madness,” said Shim with a bob of his head. “But you is also most handily clever.”

“Sometimes,” replied Tamwyn.

“Almost never,” countered Henni, who had scurried over to watch all the excitement. He grinned at the person he so enjoyed tormenting. “Just wait, give him a minute, and clumsy man here will do something stupid! Eehee, eehee, hoohoohoohoo.”

“Probably true,” grumbled Elli. But her face showed more than a hint of gratitude. So did Brionna’s, although the elf was looking not at Tamwyn but at Scree.

Weakly, the eagleman tried to sit up. But he quickly collapsed and fell back on the bloodied snow. “Guess I’m . . . going nowhere,” he panted.

“Yes, you are,” declared Tamwyn. “You won’t last long up here on the mountaintop after losing so much blood. I’m going to take you down the west slope, to that clan of eaglefolk who live there. They’ll take care of you until you’re back on your feet. Or wings.”

Reluctantly, his brother nodded. But even that seemed a strain.

Tamwyn waved to Henni. “Come here, you worthless hoolah. How about doing something useful for a change? Help me hoist this big stump onto my back.”

Grinning at the insult, Henni obliged, shoving Scree onto his crouching brother’s back. Tamwyn stood shakily under the weight. Despite the snow, which now came up to his knees, he took a few plodding steps.

Scree tapped him weakly on the shoulder. “Sure you can manage, little brother?”

“No,” grunted Tamwyn. “But at least my feet are all covered with calluses. Gives me some padding, you know. Anyway, big as you are, you’re no heavier than that dead troll we dragged opt of his cave years ago.”

Hearing a weak chuckle from his passenger, he added, “You look like him, too.”

Scree then proved that even in his condition, he could manage to kick Tamwyn in the ribs.

“Ow! No more of that, or I’ll dump you in that snowdrift over there.”

But Scree didn’t respond. He had passed out, his head slumped against the back of Tamwyn’s neck.

Tamwyn turned to Shim. “Grab my staff, would you? And also my pack? They’re back at the hot spring.” Seeing that the old fellow didn’t understand, he shouted, “What you called
the hotsy pool
!”

Shim’s pink eyes narrowed. “Snotsy fool? That’s no way to calls a friend.”

Tamwyn shook his head in frustration. But before he could say another word, quick-footed Brionna had already sprinted to the overhanging rock that sheltered the spring, and was emerging with his belongings. A few seconds later, she slid the staff into the hip sheath that he had woven out of willow bark. Then she hefted the pack, clearly curious what sort of lightweight object it held.

“Just hang it around my neck,” he said, not giving her any chance to ask about it. He glanced uncertainly at Elli. Was this the moment to tell her what the pack held?

Elli strode over, her face more troubled than ever. She peered at him. “After you’ve taken him to the eaglefolk, will you still . . .”

“Try to go to the stars?” He drew a deep breath. “Yes. To light them again, if I can. And also, maybe, to find my father.”

“Find your death, more likely.” She shook her curls, thick as a faery’s bed of flowers. “Why don’t you come with me, Tamwyn? Together we can help Coerria, then find some way to stop Rhita Gawr, right here in the Seven Realms. Doesn’t that make more sense than throwing your life away on some wild idea?”

He said nothing.

Elli turned to Brionna. “
You’ll
come with me, won’t you?”

The elf maiden nodded. “For as long as you’ll have me.” Then, her face grim, she tapped her longbow. “And if there is any chance of finding whoever did this to the unicorn—and Scree—so much the better.”