The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [188]
As if to confirm this decision of his, the palantír suddenly lit up from the inside and showed him the interior of some tower with narrow windows, something resembling a low table on curved legs, and a deathly pale – and somehow even more beautiful for that – face of Eornis.
Chapter 69
It is truly amazing what trifles change the course of history sometimes. In this case the matter was decided by the interruption of blood flow to Haladdin's left calf muscle due to the uncomfortable position he had assumed over the past few minutes. The doctor got a cramp in his leg; when he got up awkwardly and leaned over to relieve the pain in his calf, the smooth globe of the palantír fell out of his hand and rolled slowly down the crater's almost-level outer slope. Tzerlag, who stood a little below, interpreted his commander's muffled oath as an order and lunged at the crystal ball…
"No-o-o-o-o!!" The frantic yell shattered the silence.
Too late.
The Orocuen grabbed the palantír and froze in an awkward pose; his body shimmered with bluish-purple sparks, as if frosted. Desperately Haladdin rushed to his comrade and knocked the devil's toy out of his hands without thinking, in one motion; it took him a couple of seconds to realize with astonishment that it had not harmed him.
The purple sparks went out, leaving a strange frosty smell behind, and the Orocuen fell slowly sideways onto the gravel; Haladdin heard a strange clunking sound. He tried to lift the sergeant and was amazed by his body's weight.
"Doctor, what's happening to me?" The Orocuen's face, usually expressionless or smiling, showed fear and bewilderment. "Can't feel my hands or feet… at all… what's happening?"
Haladdin took his wrist but jerked his hand back in surprise: the Orocuen's hand was cold and hard as stone… Merciful God, it is stone! A couple of fingers on Tzerlag's other hand broke off in the fall, and the doctor was now looking at the fresh break shimmering with tiny crystals – snow-white porous calcite of the bones and the darkly pink marble of the muscles shot with bright-red garnet of blood vessels – and marveling at the astonishing exactness of this stony imitation. The Orocuen's neck and shoulders were still warm and living; feeling the arm, Haladdin realized that the boundary between stone and flesh was a bit higher than the elbow, slowly moving up the biceps. He was about to utter some comforting lie like 'a temporary loss of sensation due to an electrical discharge,' concealing the nature of the problem with fancy medical terminology, but the sergeant had already noticed his mangled hand and understood everything.
"Don't leave me like this, hear? The strike of mercy – now's the time…"
"What happened, Haladdin?" the palantír came to life with Saruman's alarmed voice.
"What happened?! My friend is turning to stone, that's what! Your work, bastards?"
"He touched the palantír?! Why did you let him…"
"Devil take you! Lift the spell right now, you hear?"
"I can't do that. It's not my spell – why would I need to do that? – and it's impossible to lift someone else's spell, even for me. It must have been how my stupid predecessors have tried to stop you."
"I don't care who did it! Do what you can or else drag the one who did it over to your palantír!"
"They're all gone already… I regret this deeply, but I can do nothing for your friend even at the cost of my own life."
"Listen, Saruman." Haladdin managed to get hold of himself, realizing that yelling would accomplish nothing. "It looks like my friend will turn to stone in five or six minutes. If you manage to lift the spell during that time, I'll do what you're asking me to do: block this palantír's transmission and throw it into Orodruin. How to do it is your problem, but if you can't, I'll do what I intended to do, although, to be honest, you've almost convinced me otherwise. Well?"
"Be reasonable, Haladdin! Would you destroy a whole World – two Worlds, actually – to save one man? It won't even save him when he dies later together with