Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [50]
Ardeth and the Antiquarians could do nothing but try to jump free of the wave of fire that coursed down the treant's trunk and over its writhing roots. The axe fell from its grasp, crashing atop one of the tents and flattening it.
The treant's instinct to protect nature-especially its woods-was overwhelmed by its agony, and it clambered into the open wood, flames leaping from its branches and igniting neighboring trees on the clearing's edge. Before it could escape the clearing, Bessick swung his heavy spiked chain and snagged the treant along its trunk. A swift yank pulled it backward, tumbling to the ground and sending Gan and Ardeth scrambling as it landed in a crackling inferno of leaping flames and blazing heat. The group darted back to the edge of the clearing, though the quick-spreading flames would soon threaten them again.
"Take cover," called Vonelh, before spreading his arms and muttering a few arcane syllables. The sky exploded in huge hailstones that pelted the clearing and the trees surrounding it. They hissed and sizzled as they struck the roaring flames and melted, and soon the clearing was a mess of soggy ash and wet, burnt debris. The remains of the treant were lost among the charred fragments of inanimate trees. Several of the tents and much of the group's equipment was irretrievably lost.
Royce, leader of the Antiquarians, spun to confront Mythkar Leng. His natural deference to the high priest was forgotten on this occasion, and his face was red from the heat and his anger. "We were close to talking our way out of this. That's what we do-that's how we survive. If you hadn't confronted it…"
Leng smiled smugly, unapologetic. "Would you care to finish that sentence, Hundar?" he asked.
Royce checked himself, but his tone was completely insincere. His shoulders hung, and he let his sword fall to the ground at his side.
"You could have killed us all," Royce said. "You may yet."
Leng could have slain Royce where he stood. He needed no weapon. Leng could merely lay a hand on Royce, and take his life. Royce was practically inviting him to do it. Ardeth prayed that he would, and give her an excuse to sink her sword into the priest's back. Likewise, Nithinial, Gunton, and Bessick all had weapons ready. But Leng's smile vanished.
"We still have a mission, do we not?" he said. "A few crushed and waterlogged rations don't change that. I can create food and drink, with my god's grace. We have our weapons and our wits. The Star Mounts await, and soon we'll find out if Geildarr's Sanctuary is a myth or not." With that, as if nothing had happened, he led the way into the forest.
Behind his back, looks passed between the Antiquarians and Ardeth, while Gan stepped through the muck to reclaim the fallen axe. Inside, Ardeth was beaming. What luck! she thought. With all of them on one side, it would be no trick to finish the priest. The only question was, which form of death would be most appropriate?
CHAPTER 8
Such beautiful music, thought Vell as he woke, but it was only the wind whistling through the trees.
No, he thought. One tree-the tree. He could see it, almost feel it growing.
Half awake, he lay on his back on a carpet of leaves and could not bring himself to look any direction but up. A panoply of shades and tones filled his eyes from the light filtering through the great branches, whose smallest offshoots were themselves the size of trees. Oranges, reds, and golds fluttered and shimmered in those oaken boughs, an ocean of leaves growing crisp and golden-for even this bastion of permanence was subject to nature's cycles.
What beauty! Tears trickled down Vell's cheeks. He felt so humbled under the immensity of