Darkwell - Douglas Niles [82]
"Yes, earth… or stone." She told them how she had journeyed to the vale by using the mastery of air and becoming part of the wind itself. "The other three scrolls allow similar control – either to summon, shape, use, or actually become the element, once per scroll.
"I shall save the scroll of stone. When we reach the well, I shall use my mastery of stone to free the druids from their statues. Together we might have enough force to purify the well."
"Keep the scrolls safe," suggested Pawldo. "It's not much of a plan, but it seems to be the best we have."
"Let's take advantage of the shelter we have for tonight. This may be the last warmth we feel until this is over." Tristan remained well aware of the snow falling outside and the impact that the weather might have upon the rest of their mission.
"I have no problem with that," agreed Tavish. "I'll take the first watch. I want to dry out my pants."
"I'll get up for the last watch," blurted Pawldo, very hastily. The others took no note of his urgency as they divided up the rest of the night. All of them except Tavish quickly settled down to sleep.
The bard awakened Robyn after several hours. She in turn called Tristan to the watch for the third quarter, then returned to sleep. The king finally awakened the halfling as night approached dawn.
Pawldo stood a nervous guard duty until he saw that the king had fallen asleep. Then he silently checked over his gear – shortbow, sword, rope, and lockpick. With a last look at his sleeping companions, he turned into one of the dark passages and started to make his way deeper into the firbolg lair.
* * * * *
Taggar, shaman of Norland, sat back from his ashes with a frown. The pattern was clear, unmistakable to such a devout follower of Tempus. He knew that Grunnarch had called the Council of Winternight for the following evening. All day the warlords of Norland had been arriving, taking up quarters in the best lodges in Norland town.
The prophecy so plainly indicated by his ashes surely must refer to one of these worthies… but which one? With a shrug, the shaman climbed to his feet. If Tempus did not want to reveal any more, so be it. The cleric would tell his king ail he knew of the prophecy. It would be up to Grunnarch to figure out what it meant.
He found his liege feasting in his lodge with Eric Graybeard and Urk Bearstooth, two of his favored lieutenants. Grunnarch bade him speak in the presence of them all, so Taggar told of the casting of ashes and of the message Tempus had given him therein.
"Sire, the message is this: One will travel to see you, bearing a message of great import and a plea for help. You must heed his call."
"Hmph!" The king scoffed at the message. "When is the day someone does not come to see me with an important message and a plea for my aid?"
"But, sire, consider the rest of the prophecy: This one will not walk nor swim to Norland. Nor will he ride cart or steed or ship! But he will arrive, just the same."
And then the cleric went back into the night, wondering at the ways of gods and kings and men.
XI
Sun-Sign of Chauntea
The Starling bobbed and dipped in the choppy sea. Each crushing wave poured more water over the little boat's bow, and the hull was soon awash to knee-depth. Koll held the tiller against the strain of fatigue and cold, shivering uncontrollably. He tried to avoid looking at Gwen but could not tear his eyes from her miserable form.
She huddled in the bow, wrapped in the tattered shawl that was their only protective garment. She had bailed until her strength failed, and then she had collapsed. It had been hours since she had moved, and Koll wondered if she was dying.
The wind roared out of the north like a vengeful dragon, lashing first one side of the boat, then the other, as Koll tacked his way into the teeth of the wind.
By dawn of their second day at sea, he forced himself to face the truth: They would never make it to Norland. He had been a fool for even trying the voyage, and his foolishness would cost them both their