Darkwell - Douglas Niles [138]
Tristan started toward the melee, but then he saw Robyn starting to get up, apparently unhurt. Another deathbird soared at his face, and he quickly crouched into a defensive position.
"Get him, Canthus! Yippee!" shouted a shrill voice above the noise. The great moorhound raced across the field. Above him soared a tiny orange figure, shooting like an arrow toward the fight. "C'mon, you guys! Bite him! Chew his tail off!"
Canthus and Newt slashed into the fray, and suddenly the displacer beast whirled and lashed out from the center of the melee. Tristan saw the moorhound leap and snarl at the image of the beast, striking at the empty air. The blink dogs, conversely, snapped at no apparent foe, their teeth apparently closing on empty space, but as they pulled back, the image of the displacer beast snarled and shrieked in rage. The other-dimensional ability of the blink dogs apparently allowed them to see the displacer beast in its actual location.
As the fight raged, scarcely feet away from her, Robyn rose to her feet. She caught sight of the weapon that had fallen from the displacer beast's wound and picked it up. While she had at first thought it to be a spear, she now saw that it was an ivory horn.
With a dull feeling of shock, she recognized it. Kamerynn! Had he, too, succumbed to this savage presence? Was this horn all that remained of the proud unicorn that had saved her life, that had carried her into battle with the Beast? This shock, the proof of the death of the proudest child of the goddess Earthmother, now only strengthened Robyn's resolve. Grimly she tucked the horn into her belt and turned again to face the well.
Tavish at last found her glasses and stood beside Brigit and Maura. The two sisters had driven the flying predators back from the bard while she searched. Now Tavish again took up her lute.
A deathbird flapped toward Tristan, its antlers lowered. The sword of his ancestors surged forward, sinking into the monster's throat. The king flipped the limp creature to one side and started toward the melee again, only to see Robyn running toward him.
"The scroll! I've got to get to the statues!"
"Come with me!" He spun beside her and started toward the well. Yak and the sister knights continued to strike at the remaining deathbirds. Behind them, they could hear the roaring of the displacer beast, then the painful yelp of an injured blink dog.
Before them, Genna stood before the well, ignoring the battle raging behind her. She stood between two of the druid statues, staring at the black water. When Tristan and Robyn joined her, she looked up suddenly, an expression of passionate hatred burning on her face. Robyn imagined the revulsion she must feel, confronted by this ultimate devastation,
"The scroll!" Genna demanded. "Now is the time!"
Robyn fumbled with the container as Tristan looked around frantically. The statue beside him was a white stone image of a middle-aged man. An uncanny look of brutal determination, etched in the stone, glared from his frozen face. In his hand was an upraised sickle.
Beyond him were others, men and woman, all dressed in the practical garb of the druids, all locked in positions of deadly combat. Armed with scythes, knives, staffs, poles, and a few heavy clubs, these druids had faced a nightmare army only to be imprisoned thus. He remembered Robyn's description of the miraculous white foam that had risen from the Moonwell, saving the druids from the disastrous climax of their battle.
If the scroll worked, if these statues once again became living druids, they would find themselves in the midst of another battle – against, Tristan suspected, an even mightier foe.
But could they save them now? He saw Robyn unroll the parchment, her hands shaking. Tristan saw the golden circlet, the Rose-in-Sun Medallion, glowing with an eager, hopeful aura.
Genna put out her hand, as if to steady Robyn's grip. The Great Druid's hand touched the scroll, and suddenly a blue light crackled through the air. Robyn recoiled from the