Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [63]
Rylith's voice had a finality to it that made Larajin's heart sink. Even so, she kept her eyes closed, keeping the image of her bedroom foremost in her thoughts. There had to be a way. Surely one of the goddesses would take pity on her and whisper the answer.
Larajin waited, but no more whispers came. She began to pray.
"Lady of the Heart of Gold, hear my prayer. Lady Fire-hair, hear my prayer. Place on my lips the words that will return me to Selgaunt, that will help me to save my brother's life. Help me to…"
Larajin felt the whisper enter her, felt it make its way to her heart and resonate there. It rushed from her chest to her neck to her cheeks, suffusing them with a hot warmth. It flowed to her hps, making them tingle. She spoke a word that was half in the common tongue, half in the language of the wood elves. Her ears heard it as two separate words, sung by two voices that were in perfect harmony.
"Relthwin. Refuge."
As floral scent rose into the air, Larajin opened her eyes. Beside her, Rylith was staring at the water, her eyes wide with surprise. Larajin looked down and saw a glowing circle on the surface of the pool. She stepped forward, placing her foot in the center of it. The water was only ankle deep, but her foot found no bottom. Instead she plunged downward, into water as clear and cold as ice.
Opening her eyes at the last moment, she saw a rippled surface above her, and Ryhth's face. The druid had a hand raised, as if bidding her farewell, then something dived toward the water and hit it with a splash.
After an instant of disorientation that sent her perceptions folding in upon themselves, Larajin's foot struck something solid. Landing heavily, as if from a height, she sprawled onto a hard wooden floor beside a bed. Dripping wet, she lifted her head and peered around. She saw that she had indeed returned to her bedroom, and her heart was filled with a fierce joy.
An instant later, Goldheart landed with a wet thud on the floor beside her. On all four feet-instead of in the sprawling heap in which Larajin had landed. The tressym looked up at Larajin with the indignant expression that only a wet feline can muster, then ruffled its feathered wings and shook itself like a bird.
A moment later, the door opened, and Tal strode in, clad hvthe mail shirt and surcoat Larajin had seen him wearing in her vision, his sword at his hip. He didn't see Larajin and the tressym at first-he was on the opposite side of the bed, and his attention seemed to be fixed on the shelf on the far wall, which held Larajin's collection of treasures.
Tal!" she exclaimed. Thank the goddess-you're alive!"
Tal spun around, scabbard whirling. "Larajin!" he exclaimed, staring at her with a mixture of guilt and astonishment on his face. "Where did you come from?" He frowned. "Why are you dripping wet?"
Instead of answering, Larajin stood, gaping at her half-brother. This wasn't the Tal she remembered. His fingernails were elongated, almost like claws, and there was a heavy growth of beard on his face. His mouth and nose seemed distorted somehow, as if they'd been pulled forward by an unseen hand. His ears were slightly pointed and had tufts of hair growing out of their tips. A terrible thought occurred to Larajin. Had the Hulorn worked his dark magic upon her beloved half-brother? He smelled musky, almost like a dog.
Beside her, Goldheart hissed, her tail fluffed as big as a bottle brush. The tressym's gold eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as if she was ready to attack.
"Tal… what's happened to you?"
Blushing furiously, Tal raised an arm to hide his face. "I… can explain this, Larajin. It's nothing, really. Just a… spell that went awry. I'm fine, really. I'll be back to normal soon enough."
Larajin wanted to demand a proper explanation, but already time was slipping away. If she didn't hurry, Leifander would be dead.
"I've got to get to the Hulorn's palace, and quickly," she told him.