Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [113]
Too late.
Fierce channels of wind, twisting like tentacles and filled with ice, roared from above at the sorcerer's behest and struck the great bird from the sky. The belkagen lost his eagle form a dozen feet above the rocks and fell. He struck the rocks, bones shattering, not far from where Lendri was just now stirring. All breath left the belkagen's body, and dark clouds swam before his eyes.
Spells forming on their lips, the four sorcerers stepped toward the fallen elves.
A flash of golden light lit the sky above them, and for an instant everyone froze. All eyes looked up in time to see the fifth sorcerer, flame and a summer-golden light enveloping him, fly like a comet overhead. He shot over the island, trailing a silvery-white smoke, and landed with a splash in Yal Tengri.
The belkagen, struggling to breathe, and the four sorcerers, their spells frozen on their lips, turned to look up the hill. There, under the black boughs of the Witness Tree, stood Amira, her golden staff raised and Jalan clutched protectively under one arm.
* * * * *
Amira's eyes widened as she saw the four sorcerers coming straight at her. They didn't rush but walked at a deliberate pace. Their gaze, the light like a cold halo around their eyes, seemed to freeze her blood.
"Amira!" said a rasping voice behind her.
She turned. Gyaidun, fresh wounds scraping his already-bloody skin, was crawling over the broken remnants of the wall.
"Hold them off!" he said. "Just a few moments. I know how to stop them."
"What?"
"Just hold them off! And don't… don't hurt Erun. Please."
She turned to look back down the hill. They were almost to the bottom of the steps. Behind them, beyond the broken bodies of Lendri and the belkagen, just crawling over the rocks at the edge of the island, was the sorcerer she'd sent sailing out into the Great Ice Sea. A snarl of rage twisted his rotting visage, but aside from the scorched robes he seemed unharmed.
"I don't think that's going to be an issue." She looked down at her son and said, "Jalan."
He looked up at her, his golden eyes wide, and in that instant she noticed that color had returned to his cheeks. He looked warm. And something else. His eyes had been golden all his life, but now there was a light behind them, still small and uncertain, but growing.
"I love you, Jalan," she said, then pushed him away and charged down the stairs.
* * * * *
The belkagen watched the sorcerer emerge from Yal Tengri. He was soaked, most of his robes had burned away, and his decayed flesh hung off him, but still he pulled himself up the rocks and followed the others. His anger and malice seemed to fuel his strength.
The old elf tried to take a deep breath, and pain shot through him. That fall had cracked ribs, his right arm was broken, and he couldn't feel his fingers on that hand.
The words Hro'nyewachu had given to Amira came to him-
"The Witness Tree. There, all will be decided. Beyond that, I give you no assurances. Death and life will meet. Only those who surrender will triumph."
–and those she'd given to him-
"That task is for another."
The belkagen pushed himself to his feet. A cough that felt like sharp stones in his lungs shook him, and he saw bits of blood spatter from his lips. Lendri was struggling to his feet as well.
God of my ancestors, the belkagen prayed, and you, Hro'nyewachu, if you can hear me… whatever is going to happen, please make it happen soon.
He saw Amira charging, a golden light enveloping her. It lent him courage, for she looked like a goddess of summer incarnate-if summer were fury and fire.
The belkagen spoke the words of power. They tore at his throat, but he forced them out-"Crith kesh het!" A globe of searing radiance, like a tiny sun, enveloped him. "U werekh kye wu!"
The