Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [118]
Kneeling beside Jalan and holding his hand was Gyaidun, but Amira scarcely recognized him. He was still covered in blood, he still bled freely from a dozen scratches and scrapes, and his long hair was still unbound and wild down his back. But in his face and behind his closed eyes was an expression that Amira could only describe as rapture.
Then Gyaidun stood and opened his eyes. They shone like Jalan's, golden and bright. The weariness was gone from him, and he stood with the strength and power of a warrior in his prime. But in Gyaidun, too, Amira saw that the power was not his own, but came from something inside him. Something other.
Recognition struck her. In Hro'nyewachu she had seen the last stand of Arantar, watched as these very sorcerers had destroyed his city and murdered him. But there had been that other, that strange power working through Arantar, that being that even the Fist of Winter had been unable to destroy.
Amira recognized that same presence in her son, and standing next to him, shining through Gyaidun, was another.
Combining their strength, Jalan and Gyaidun-or the beings in them-began to beat back the attacks of the sorcerers. Spells of darkness and cold met the power of light and life, and it was the cold darkness that broke and shattered.
A great cry rent the air, and Amira saw the sorcerer who had crouched over Jalan under the Witness Tree, the one who seemed weaker than the others, fall to the ground. The unholy power within him was banished, the black magics that kept his ancient flesh upon his bones shattered, and he was a corpse before he struck the rocks.
The leader of the sorcerers cried out, an incoherent shriek of rage. He loosed a barrage of spells at Jalan, but rather than block them or turn them aside, Jalan leaped into the air. At his summons the wind bore him up and over the sorcerers. He sailed over the boughs of the Witness Tree and came down upon the stone staircase next to the fallen body of Erun.
"NO!" cried the leader.
Jalan knelt beside Erun and took his face in both hands. Erun's body spasmed, strength filling him, and he and Jalan stood together. The body of Gyaidun's son was still emaciated, but the corpse pallor was gone from his skin, and his eyes shone with the same light as Jalan and Gyaidun's.
The three of them-Jalan, Erun, and Gyaidun-closed in on the sorcerers, who stood back to back. Amira scrambled to get out of the way.
"No!" said the leader of the sorcerers. "Mercy! Remember mercy!"
Jalan's smile faded, and an expression of great solemnity filled his face. "Today," he said, "mercy meets justice."
The leader's two remaining fellows forsook him, fleeing in either direction. One leaped over the edge, perhaps hoping to lose himself in the waves below, while the other summoned the winter winds to bear him up. But both ran into a gale summoned by the three beings of light and were flung back. They fell to the ground, writhing and screaming, one of them only an arm's length from where Amira huddled in the rubble. Like the one before them, the power of the devils faltered, their hold on the mortal bodies broken at last.
Before her eyes, Amira saw the body age decades in a few breaths. The flesh melted away beneath the skin, the eyes shriveled and sank, the remaining locks of hair blew away in the wind, and finally the skin itself peeled away.
The leader stood before them, the tattered remains of his robe fluttering in the wind and sudden silence. He glanced at Gyaidun and Erun, then fixed his gaze on Jalan.
"I will not bow before you, Vyaidelon," he said. "Nor your brothers. I will-"
"Silence!" said a voice. It came from Jalan, but Amira knew it was the being inside him speaking. "Speak no more in this