"Soon all will be… over. For you. Darkness. Cold. But for me… tonight I'll wear your… s-skin when I find your mother. When I..
eat her heart." Unable to look away, Jalan watched as the decaying muscles tightened in preparation for the downstrokeA dark shape fell out of the sky and struck the sorcerer in the back, smashing him into the rocks. Jalan screamed. A demon! The sorcerer had summoned a demon to take his soul! But the figure that struggled to his feet was no demon. He was a man-tall and thick with hard muscle, dressed in torn bits of leather that might once have been clothes, and every inch of him coated in dried blood. From the near-black blood, the man's eyes seemed to shine forth with both fury and pain. In one hand the man held a single-edge knife, the blade of which was almost as long as his forearm, and in the other he held a black iron club. The sorcerer stood. His robes and much of his cloak had been torn away, and in the rents Jalan saw bits of ribs broken through the emaciated, gray skin.
But even as he watched, the bones sank back into the flesh, mending with a sickening popping and crunching. The man brought his club down in a fierce strike aimed for the ash-gray cowl, but the sorcerer caught the club in his hand. Bone cracked and tiny bits of flesh flew away, but the sorcerer did not weaken his grip. He twisted the club out of the man's hand and brought the club back around, striking the man with his own weapon. The club caught the man in the gut and he folded in half as he tumbled off the hill. The sorcerer turned back to Jalan, but the boy was too frozen with shock and fear to move. Where had the man come from? Who was he? Dropping the club, the sorcerer snarled and shambled forward, but he made only two steps when another figure dropped out of the sky, more gently than the man had, and landed between them. The clothes and cloak were strange, but Jalan recognized her at once. "Mother!" She kept her back to him and turned to the sorcerer. "Get away from my son, you bastard!" she roared. She thrust forward a strange golden-red staff and shouted, "Keljan saule!"
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Isle of Witness
The sorcerer screamed and flung Lendri away. He thrashed, his shriek rising in pitch until it passed beyond hearing. Still, the belkagen could sense it rattling inside his skull. The flames caught in the sorcerer's sleeves and lower robes, then ran down as if he were dipped in pitch. Three shadows fell out of the storm sky and landed around the burning sorcerer. The tallest of the newcomers flung his palms out in an arcane gesture and screamed the words of a spell. A channel of wind filled with snow and sleet hit the gathered sorcerers, and so great was its force that the flames sputtered and died. Most of the sorcerer's robes had gaping holes. His face was that of a cadaver kept alive by dark magics, his skin withered, gray, and stretched over a hairless skull. His nose was long gone, leaving only a desiccated hole. His eyes were deep pits rimmed in cold frostfire, and they bore down on the belkagen, who still lay prostrate on the rocks. The sorcerer raised his hand and pointed even as he spoke the words of his incantation. The belkagen was halfway to his feet when the air around the sorcerer's hand coalesced and froze into a blue-white light and shot forth. The belkagen spoke his own spell and raised his staff just in time. The light struck the staff-a sharp crack, followed by a flash of darkness that the belkagen saw behind his eyesAnd the staff shattered, splinters and tiny shards of ice flying into the old elf's hand and face. The belkagen screamed but kept moving. He turned his cry of pain into words of power and spread his arms wide as he leaped.
The wind caught in his cloak, and as the hide billowed it rippled with magic, forming wings even as the elf's form shrank, his legs shortening and his feet stretching into claws, feathers covering his body. In a breath's time he transformed into an eagle and caught the wind current. 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 steady wind at his back gusted, grasping and lifting him, and he flew forward into the midst of the sorcerers. The nearest turned to him, the wind blowing off the tattered cowl, and the belkagen saw that it was Erun. The boy the belkagen had watched take his first steps under the autumn boughs-No! the belkagen reminded himself. That is not Erun, but the thing that killed him! — snarled and raised a rapier, its silver steel glistening with fell magic. The sorcerer flinched as the globe of light enveloping the old elf hit him, but he held his ground.