From the crystal dome Jaspen watched, Feldyn and Crieba immobile beside her. She made prayer for Lobon, violent, strong prayer; she had done so constantly since the battle began. She was the child of Cadach, the tree man, the youngest child of five, though no two were born in the same generation or in the same place nor, for that, of the same mother; but all choosing to make right again the sins of Cadach. This was her gift, this guarding of the stone that now held all of Ere’s fate in balance.
Soon behind her, come at the force of her prayer, towering figures made of light rose from the stuff of the crystal dome as if that crystal were but air, figures unclear in their dimension, and their wings all woven of light. They watched the battle, watched the great horse Lannthenn fall and die; watched Kish, the warrior queen, descend to the meadow where Lobon stood awaiting her, holding the stone and the wolf bell as bait.
Kish’s eyes burned with hunger for the stone, but she remained mounted. Around her, lizards dropped out of the sky to slither in the grass, circling Lobon. Above, half a dozen lizards drove Meatha and the white mare back, attacking again, again.
Kish’s mount spun around, she jerked it savagely and brought it rearing over Lobon. He stabbed at its belly, ducked her sword, stabbed again; as the creature twisted away, he leaped and hit it, dodging Kish’s blows, forcing his power at her; felt her sword pierce his arm. And he felt a surge of power in himself, as if all the Seers of Carriol sent theirs flooding like a tide. He struck the lizard, struck again as it reared, slashing its trailing wing; as it tried to climb skyward, he struck once more down its side with all his weight on his sword. The lizard fell screaming. Kish beat it but it could not rise. She slid down, left it to die, confronted Lobon from the ground, her face white and twisted with lust for the stones he carried, with a rage that drew the dark fury of evil into a giant maelstrom, a force that continued to shake the earth. All across Ere the land moved and changed; in Carriol the warriors of light were driven back by the heaving earth, by the dark powers incarnate in Kish’s wrath.
From the crystal dome, the child Jaspen watched and held her own force steady. She felt the power of the two wolves who stood beside her, felt Meatha’s strength supporting Lobon, as all together they sought to weaken Kish and drive her back.
Cadach the tree man Saw the battle, felt the earth’s tremors around him and knew their true nature. Trapped inside his ancient tree deep in the caves of Owdneet, he felt the mountain move above him, below him, Saw the warring in Carriol and Carriol’s armies driven back. Then felt the mountain give way beneath him; his tree toppled suddenly into a newly opened fissure, the roots upside down reached up like clawing fingers as it was swept, with all the treasures of the cave, deep into the center of the world. And Cadach at last knew death, crushed inside the shattered tree.
But the spirit of Cadach was not dead, it came truly alive suddenly and watched all of Ere in the holocaust. Cadach, dead at last and his spirit released, watched Lobon’s battle with terrible empathy. What path that spirit would now pursue, on until the end of Time, what strength it would now embrace into itself to drive back the dark, only Cadach could know.
He Saw the crystal dome and knew it stood on the place where once a jade sphere had been mined. He Saw the mining of the jade, Saw that miner-Seer discover the powers of the stone. He Saw its theft by another, the search for it, all in an instant; and Saw finally a procession of Seers carry the stone up into the mountain Tala-charen to safety, to leave it for fate, and for the natural forces beyond their own will, to deal with.
And so had those forces dealt, and were dealing. Cadach went still in his mind as Kish’s sword struck across Lobon’s, struck again. He Saw Kish take a blow and reel, then strike cruelly at Lobon, Saw the battle in the sky above where Meatha fought desperately to join him.
From the crystal dome a woman stood looking out past the white-haired child and the two wolves: Skeelie, come out of Time as silent as wings muffled by cloud; Skeelie, held tense by the force of the battle. Convulsively she moved forward, her hand gripping the heavy, unfamiliar sword at her side, for she carried Canoldir’s sword. She pushed through the dome, touched the clear door, would go to Lobon, would fight beside Lobon. . . .
As she passed the child and the wolves, she slowed; she saw that the warrior queen was weakening and she brought force strong with the others, felt forces strong around Lobon. She did not know she was whispering Ramad’s name, like an incantation. She stood, sword ready but unmoving, as Lobon parried powerfully against Kish, driving her back now, giving her mortal blows in a surge of fury and strength. But Kish rallied, swung her sword stabbing into his chest in a flashing thrust. Metal rang, but her sword glanced away. Lobon staggered, righted himself and drove the warrior queen back. He felt the power of the great wolves join him strong as a beating pulse as all across Ere Seers of light turned from their own battles, held their attackers at bay, their powers joined with him in the stones. The warrior queen lunged and slashed, but in her fury she was losing control; she fought desperately as he drove her back again, again, and then with one lunging blow he thrust his sword home into her chest. She fell.
He stood over her, sword ready. She made no move to rise. He stood quietly, watching her die.
At last Lobon knelt beside her. He stared at her white, reptilian face, shaped with anger even in death. He reached, removed from her tunic the five shards of the runestone of Eresu. Took up the starfires. He wanted to wipe the scent of Kish from them, polish them clean. Instead he rose and reached to place the stones inside his own tunic. It was then he felt the twisted metal there. He pulled the wolf bell forth.
It was smashed and twisted by Kish’s sword. The belly of the bitch-wolf gaped open where the blade had gone in. Inside that cut, gleaming green, lay a shard of the runestone. He turned the wolf bell and spilled the stone into his hand beside the others. At once he was stricken with a force like thunder, felt heat and a white light burst around the stone so bright it blinded him.
When the light died, he remained still, shocked, hypnotized with the force that gripped him.
In his hand lay not the shards of the runestone, but a round jade sphere. The whole stone. No mark or line showed where the shards had joined. The runes were carved around its surface, the whole rune—or nearly whole: for a chasm ran along one side of the stone deep into the center, a rough-edged scar where the missing shard should have been. Inside, he could see the golden heart that had been the starfires. He looked up then, and saw Meatha. Skeelie stood beside her, the look on her face unfathomable, her dark eyes deep with emotions that shook Lobon’s soul, the sense of Ramad so strong between them, the sense of their closeness.
“It is joined,” he said inadequately. He felt heavy and stupid with shock. “How—how could such a thing happen? It is not whole, it is flawed. How . . . ?” He was fighting dizziness, fighting to remain standing.
Skeelie moved to support him, stood tall and strong beside him, holding his shoulders. Her voice shook only slightly. “Perhaps it is flawed just as Ere is flawed. Just so—as men’s lives are flawed.”
“Yes,” he said, staring down at the stone.
“Though,” she added quietly, “that makes their lives no less magnificent.”
He leaned against Skeelie, felt her strength, her gentleness. Then he looked across to Meatha, reached to take her hand.
“It is done,” Meatha said. Above them the sky was empty, the remaining lizards had fled.
“And the wolves?” he said suddenly, looking around him. The white-haired child stood alone, a little way from them.
“The wolves are gone,” Meatha said. “They make for Carriol and their brothers.” He glimpsed them in the shadows of his mind racing across the sand. “They will return to us,” she said. “Maybe with mates by their sides.” She smiled. “Too long alone, those two.” Her warmth and her strength, like Skeelie’s strength, reached out and steadied him; and Skeelie moved away.