“That wasn’t Albanon,” said Tempest.
The blow from behind was so sharp and so sudden that it drove both breath and wits from Albanon’s body. For a moment, he was only aware of light and shapes rushing around him. Strange pressures pushed against him, almost like falling up if that were possible. The movement seemed to drive hot nails into his chest and shoulders, sending searing pain deep into him.
The pain snapped him back to alertness. He found himself staring down, his head lolling against his chest, and the top of trees flashing beneath him. He jerked at the sight-and more pain seared through him. Then he saw the talons gripping his shoulders, heard the thrum of beating wings and the rasp of labored breath. Smelled the stink of a carnivore-and realized what was happening.
He looked up at the belly and breast of the biggest of the perytons.
Albanon’s first instinct was to struggle, but the peryton felt that and tightened its grip until he gasped. His second instinct was to blast the creature with a spell, but his sudden gasp and the rushing air had stolen his breath again-which fortunately gave him a moment to recognize what a spectacularly stupid idea that would be. The spell of gentle falling he’d used to save Cariss was complex and the effort of casting it had scoured its patterns from his mind for a time. If he were to blast the peryton, he’d fall even farther than the shifter had. Plus the landscape below looked completely unfamiliar. The knoll where’d they’d ambushed the flock was far behind him.
Panic leaped inside him. Were they even still in the valley?
But the peryton banked suddenly-sending another sharp wave of pain through Albanon-and a new but familiar vista presented itself: the stone face of the mountain above the valley. With it, however, came new and horrific sights. There were half a dozen ledges across the stone face, each of them bearing one or two or even three messy heaps of sticks and branches. Nests. Black dung caked the ledges. White bones, cracked by powerful jaws, were scattered among the sticks. Perytons had been nesting on the cliffs for a long time.
Albanon’s captor angled toward the biggest of the ledges, a broad shelf of rock partly sheltered by a high overhang but containing only a single, if very large, nest. The peryton’s wings spread wide and scooped against the air, slowing it and bringing an explosion of new pain to Albanon. The pain lasted only a moment, however, before the peryton opened its claws and let him fall.
He was lucky. He crashed into the piled branches of the thing’s nest and intertwined wood broke his fall. Still, the air went out of his much-abused lungs, and Albanon struggled to draw a breath as he thrashed in the nest.
The peryton loomed over him. Its bulk blotted out the light. Bloodstained talons slammed down across his chest, pinning him. The great, antlered head dipped toward him. Its muzzle peeled back to expose sharp teeth.
Somewhere behind Albanon, white light flashed, drawing the peryton’s attention. “Get away from him,” said an imperious voice.
The peryton’s head snapped back and up to glare at something Albanon couldn’t see. A frightening growl rose in its throat, so low and deep that Albanon could feel it vibrate through him.
“No?” said the voice. “Good.”
The light flared again, a brilliant and blinding storm that washed over Albanon and the peryton alike. The light was at once scorching hot and freezing cold-Albanon felt like it was scouring the flesh from his bones. He heard two screams, one his and one the peryton’s. The monster fell away from him and he could breathe again.
He could do more than breathe, in fact. The deep agony where the peryton’s talons had pierced his shoulders faded. As the scouring light sank into him, it felt as if it was knitting his injured flesh back together. When it faded an instant later, he was whole again. The same couldn’t be said for the peryton. It lay still with wisps of stinking smoke rising from its feathers.
Albanon had experienced that searing, painful healing before. He flipped around in the remnants of the demolished nest and pushed himself to his feet. At the back of the ledge, just in front of a low door that opened out of the rock wall, bright eyes set in a wrinkled, dark-skinned face watched him.
“You weren’t what I was expecting,” said Kri, “but I should have known it would be you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Albanon reeled. A spell leaped into his mind, but in his surprise the best he could manage was a strangled croak and a couple of feeble gestures. Kri’s mouth pursed impatiently.
“Stop that. I just saved you. If I wanted you dead, I could have let the peryton rip your heart out. Come inside. We need to talk.”
He turned away. Albanon stared at the old man. Kri still wore the same clothes he had when Albanon had last seen him in Fallcrest, but now they were dirty and stained. They hung on his frame. Kri was gaunt, his cheeks hollow, even if his eyes were bright and sharp.
Breath finally came back to Albanon. The first words to pass his lips weren’t a spell, though maybe they should have been. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “The last time I saw you, you were-”
“Fleeing after you defeated my attempt to free Tharizdun from his prison?” the priest said. “Yes. But Tharizdun brought me here. He has a task for me. And for you.” Kri raised an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You felt his gaze. What did you expect to find?”
Aid in the fight against Vestapalk, Albanon started to say, then he stopped himself. Why reveal that to Kri? “You betrayed me,” he said through his teeth. “You betrayed the Order of Vigilance. You drove me mad before and you’re trying to do it again.”
“Trying?” Kri snorted faintly. “I don’t have to try. The eye of the Chained God has fallen on you, Albanon. You’ll never be entirely sane again. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” He turned away, walking through the door. “Come inside. You’ll understand.”
Defiance came over Albanon like a haze. He turned and marched to the edge of the ledge. The valley lay spread out before him-a long, long way down. He closed his eyes as a dizziness he hadn’t felt in the panic of the peryton’s flight made his head spin.
A hand came down on his shoulder. “Jumping would be the greatest madness of all,” said Kri. “You must have come here with Shara and Uldane, at least. I’m sure they’ll try to rescue you. Aren’t you even going to try and fight?”
“I wasn’t going to jump,” Albanon snarled.
“No? Then come away from the edge before you fall over, you fool idiot.” Kri’s hand bunched in the talon-shredded remains of his shirt and dragged him backward several paces. Albanon was reminded that while the priest might be old, he was still strong.
He pushed Kri’s hand off and turned to face him. “What do you want from me?”
“It’s not what I want-it’s what Tharizdun wants,” said Kri with surprising calm. “Believe it or not, you saved him. You saw the Voidharrow that came pouring out of the Vast Gate as Tharizdun tried to pass through. You saw the binding forms that it was taking and you destroyed it. You, Albanon, prevented Tharizdun from being absorbed by the Voidharrow.”
Albanon blinked. “I saved a god?”
Kri waved a hand. “Well, you saved a god that all the other gods despise. And you forced him back into his eternal prison, so he’s not too happy about that. But you did draw his attention. He’s chosen you as part of his vengeance.”
“Vengeance?” Albanon’s belly clenched.
“His vengeance on the Voidharrow. Tharizdun has given me the key. He told me that one would come to help turn it and here you are. Now come inside.” Kri smiled, but not kindly. “You swore the oath of vigilance. You came here looking for a way to end the threat of Vestapalk and the Voidharrow. Don’t you want to know what that is?”