“I think, Longsword, something is missing.”
“E miheth, I must replace the sword,” he said softly, easing her away a little and drawing the great blade over his shoulder.
Elayeen opened her eyes at the sound and drew back enough to gaze up into his eyes. “I am afraid,” she said simply. “I am faranthroth, I should not be here…”
“Hush, E, mithroth, we are bound together you and I.” he whispered back, and heedless of Allazar leaning on his staff not two feet away, kissed her, and then stepped back a little, still holding her hand so the three of them formed a small triangle about the home-stone.
Gawain took a deep breath, deftly flipping the great blade, holding the pommel high above his head, the point down above the slot in the home-stone. “Then let us unlock this ancient power, if there be any, and vex Morloch to the end of his miserable days. May there truly be freedom and justice for all.”
He plunged the sword into the slot, and there was a loud, echoing click. At once the runes began rotating at incredible speed, glowing brighter. Then there came a sound, deep, deep as the very earth itself, as though some mighty giant had lifted the entire mountain of Raheen an inch off the ground, and dropped it again.
The sound, which was felt more than heard, rushed outward like a tidal wave, north, radiating out through the great U of the lands, passing through villages and towns and hamlets and farms, through the greatest of castletowns and through the humblest of hovels, and as it passed, people paused a moment, and looked about them, and shivered, as though someone had walked upon their graves, and then went about their business.
North sped the wave, washing over all, great and small, and in the winter palace of Shiyanath the great Council of Kings paused a moment in their debating, and shivered, and marvelled as motes of dust fell from the vaulted ceiling above them, glistening, a shower of spangles in the sunlight.
North, to the farak gorin, through the frozen rock-glass of that terrible boundary between the plains and the Teeth and the elderly gang of Threllandmen beneath it, dwarves quietly tunnelling through hard rock and pain, and they too froze, and gazed about them as if expecting a cave-in, before they turned as one and fled the workings as fast as their legs would carry them.
And then the wave smashed into the Dragon’s Teeth, and northward racing still until it met the great rip in the world, that bottomless crevasse of the great divide where Gawain and Martan of Tellek had watched Morloch’s minions crossing that dread subterranean chasm. There, unable to proceed any further, the great wave boiled up upon itself, rushing up through the rock of the Teeth, following the southern slope to slam into the peaks and ridges…
Such was the mighty force of this ancient power, the aged miners fleeing into the fresh air of the plains south of the farak gorin would swear they saw the Teeth jolt as if some great invisible giant of a dwarf had given them a sharp rap with a hammer. Such was the power of that hammer-blow, peaks and ridges cracked, and on the far side, the northern side, Morloch’s side of the Teeth, countless and immeasurable tons of rock spall suddenly blew outward, as though the whole range of mountains were one great volcano belching rock to north.
And mingled with the millions of tons of rock spalls blasted from the northern slopes of the Teeth by the impact of that mystic tsunami of ancient power, countless mindless labouring minions of Morloch, rent asunder, destroyed in an instant, and their countless years of toil and hammering at the Teeth destroyed with them.
The ground in the north shook, and Martan of Tellek and his old friends, counting heads lest any of their number were still below when that giant hammer tapped the Teeth, felt it beneath their feet, and eyed the farak gorin with alarm, and shivered… for that great wave had done the task it was made to do, and having struck the Teeth, rebounded, and was now racing back across the plains, towards the bottom of that great U of the lands, and towards Raheen, whence it came.
All this they saw, Allazar, and Gawain, and Elayeen, as if they themselves were riders upon that wave, though Gawain felt for a moment as though he were mounted upon the mightiest of Raheen chargers, guiding the great steed north to the Teeth, steering it towards his enemy. Now the wave was returning, its immense power barely diminished, rushing past Mornland and Arrun in the east and Elvendere and Callodon of the west, touching all who dwelt there a second time as it raced across the plains until…
There was a sound, deep, deep as the very earth itself, as though some mighty giant had lifted the entire mountain of Raheen an inch off the ground, and dropped it again. Then a pause, but a heartbeat of total silence, as if the very world were holding its breath. In that timeless moment, Elayeen stared into Gawain’s eyes, and he into hers, then she looked to Allazar, and then back to Gawain, as the Keep filled with a sudden rushing, whistling, like steam rising in some immense kettle…
“G’wain!” Elayeen called, and for the briefest moment, Gawain felt all her love, and all her fear, and all of it was for him.
Then, in an instant, the three concentric circles of runes ceased their wild revolutions, and flared brightly, and then a cylinder of light burst forth from the small circle around the home-stone, brighter than the sun, enveloping the Sword, before at once expanding violently to the full diameter of the circle, blasting all three away from each other as it did. There the light shone like a beacon, blasting up through the clouds and to the heavens above, and just as suddenly, it faded, and was gone…
In the great hall in the ruined Keep of Raheen, Gawain lay up on the cold stone floor, his ears ringing, his head aching, his eyes stinging, and when he moved, his everything protesting. He opened his eyes, and found himself laying on the top step of the pedestals, at the very foot of his father’s throne. He pushed himself to his knees and glanced hastily at the circle. The Sword stood silently in its home-stone, the pommel glowing brightly, the steel shining, and he thought he could see runes swimming in the steel for a moment, before the light dimmed a little, and he could see them no more.
Allazar lay some twenty feet from the circle towards the great open entrance, where all four horses watched side by side in silent amazement. The wizard lay on his back, staring up through the ruin of the Keep at the sky, and seemed to be mumbling, still clutching the Dymendin staff, now bleached a silvery-white.
“Elayeen!” Gawain cried, “E!”
She lay face down on the flag-stones far to Gawain’s left, very far from where she had been standing at the centre of the circle until her hand had been ripped from his. He staggered down the steps, lurched across the marble circle and to the rougher floor beyond, and fell to his knees beside her. She looked for all the world as though she were asleep.
“E…” Gawain murmured, and with a trembling hand, reached out to touch her head. Her hair seemed brighter somehow, all silver now, rather than silver-blonde. For the first time, he truly knew terror, seeing her lying there, unmoving. At once he leaned forward, his heart pounding, placing his ear close to her face. He could hear nothing save the sound of his own terrified heart pounding.
He drew his knife from his boot and held it close to his beloved’s lips, and almost cried out when he saw the faint bloom of misty condensation form upon it. She lived!
“Cu…Cura ut valeanas!” Allazar croaked, on his hands and knees, holding out a hand in some kind of warning.
At once Gawain understood. He struggled to contain his fears now the terror had subsided a little, but his hand still shook. He was Raheen, and if there was one thing a Raheen warrior understood, it was how to go about helping someone who’d fallen from a horse. He doubted being flung forty feet across a stone floor was too much unlike a fall at pace.