A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [77]
Her eyes narrowed. "While you do what?"
"Slay myself with this sword whilst railing up a certain magic-and so drive the Serpent down for a time."
She gaped at him in disbelief.
"Choose, daughter of the Talasorn," Kelgrael Snowsar told her gently. "Or I'll sharpen this sword in your innards before I use it on myself."
Trembling, she stared into his eyes for a long time ere she whispered, "I-I'll do it, Lord of Aglirta."
The king smiled at her and released his grip on her wrists.
She stared at him in mute astonishment for another long moment before slowly stretching out one hand and carefully, delicately wiping his chin. Then she rose, stepped around the king, raised her hands-and cast a shielding spell.
It rose in a whirling of sparks, to wall off that end of the chamber.
She cast a quick glance back over her shoulder at King Snowsar, and he smiled at her, nodded approvingly, and then lifted his eyes to stare straight at Sarasper.
Hear me, faithful Overdukes.
Aglirta is yours now. Watch it well, as I know you have done. Have my thanks- and in time, I hope, all Aglirtans of good wits will join me in that gratitude. Watch over our land, no matter who sits the River Throne. My hope is that one of you will take the Crown-My only sadness is that it can't be this crown I wear. It dies with me, unless my
hand places it on the brow of my direct descendant. I had my own hopes in this regard, and regret your choice, Lady Embra, while at the same time praising it. We must all do as our hearts bid. So I have lived for Aglirta-and so I will die for Aglirta.
Raulin, Glarsimber, and Sarasper all stared at the king, too dumbfounded to speak or move or even glance at each other.
Kelgrael was murmuring something that sounded like an incantation. Tshamarra Talasorn whirled around to watch and listen with her own astonishment plain on her face. She knew a few of those phrases, and what it cost to guide one's will through them; the Risen King was mightier in magic than any archwizard!
Kelgrael gave her a little smile as he went on, raising his sword upright, point high, at arm's length. A glow was gathering around it, rose-red and white, slowly growing brighter. A thin mist seemed to curl up and down the blade, and a singing sound stole softly out of the blade to chase that mist, growing higher and louder-not a keening or a high horncall, but a wordless singing, as if from the throat of a maiden.
Kelgrael let go of the blade, and gestured to the Talasorn sorceress that she touch it. Gently, with one fingertip and fresh foreboding in her eyes, she stretched forth a finger-and then drew back, shaking her head.
Sarasper took another step nearer the shielding, and so was close enough to hear Kelgrael murmur, " 'Tis no trap. Touch the blade, and take what magic it pours into you, that it not be forgotten. Expect no usable spell, mind, but words of power and snatches of incantations and instruction that may find their uses in years to come."
Tshamarra looked at him doubtfully, and he smiled, and said, "Please, daughter of Raevur. Your father sought spell-lore all his life; will not you?"
The Talasorn sorceress drew in a deep breath-and touched the sword.
Sarasper saw her shudder, and snatch her hand back. Her other hand lifted, as if she wanted to take the blade from where it hung in the air and wield it herself, but Kelgrael smiled, and said, "Nay. For this to work, the hand must be my own."
And as Tshamarra watched with a strange look in her eyes, he took hold of his sword in both hands and murmured something even she did not catch.
His arms trembled, then, and slowly grew longer… impossibly longer-until it was a simple matter for him to turn the glowing, singing blade around-and drive it, hard, into his own breast.
The sword flashed, Tshamarra's barrier fell away into bouncing sparks, and the Risen King threw back his head and cried out in pain. Magical fires flooded from his mouth-and the Throne Chamber of Agfirta went dark.
Light flashed and flared