Then all questions and fear dissolved and he saw quite clearly that Iraj was right. He could stop them.
Once again he gripped his sling. Once again he reached into his pouch. But instead of a heavy ball his fingers touched the pot shard he'd taken from the cave. The shard that bore the picture of Hadin, the land of fire. A shock of magic clamped his fingers closed.
Instinctively letting the moment rule, Safar didn't fight the magic. He drew the shard out and carefully inserted it into his sling. He swung the weapon about his head, eyes searching for a target. He saw an immense demon leading the charge out of the ravine. But it wasn't that demon he wanted. One death would accomplish nothing.
He had to kill them all.
His eyes were drawn up and once again he noted the heavy snow clinging to the sides of the ravine. In his mind he also saw the rotten slate beneath that snow. And then the mass of boulders hanging above the frozen incline the ravine bisected. He knew what to do.
Whirling the sling, Safar pictured the pottery shard in his mind, chanting:
You were made in fire And within you fire Yet remains. It grows from spark To finger flame To kiln fire. And now I release you… Fly free! Fly free!
And he let loose the missile.
When Sarn led his demons out to fight he knew he'd already failed.
Moments after Giff had attacked a sudden blast of sorcery had seared the air. It wasn't directed toward him, but it was so strong it rasped his senses. Fear iced his heart and he thought, there must be a wizard with the caravan. How could I have missed him?
Then he'd seen Giff go down and a humana mere stripling at thatstanding over him. Sarn goggled. This was the wizard?
But there was no mistaking the aura of raw power radiating from the stripling. It was so strong it had swept away Sarn's spell of cowardice and the human soldiers were already rallying. One part of him insisted this was impossible. No human was capable of such magic. The other part took stock, recognized that impossible or not there the boy stood with all the magic he needed at his command.
Sarn saw instantly his only hope was to strike while an element of surprise still remained. Any moment now the caravan master and his soldiers would realize a threat still remained in the ravine. With the young wizard's help Sarn and his demons would be trapped in this all-too-perfect ambush.
If he were lucky he'd merely be killed. If not, he'd be captured. And he'd be damned if let himself fall into the foul hands of a human.
So he made the signal. Heard his fiends shrill their battle song. And he booted his mount forward into the attack.
As he charged from the ravine Sarn saw that the stripling wizard was already in action, whirling a loaded sling about his head and searching for a target. Just then the boy looked directly at Sarn. A chill scuttled up the demon's spine. It was as if he were being measured for the grave.
Then the human let lose and Sarn laughed because he saw immediately that the human was off his mark. The missile was arcing high into the air instead of towards him. Wizard or not, he thought, the boy was a coward. Fear had spoiled his aim.
Then the missile sailed over his head, a strong current of sorcery rippling the air, and his laughter was choked off.
The boy was no coward. His aim had been true.
Sarn's last thought was that Giff had been right. The king had lied.
Now that lie was about to cost Sarn his life.
Safar smiled as the shard sailed over the lead demon's head.
Then, in midflight it exploded into a ball of flame. The back-blasting heat was so intense it scorched his face. But he didn't shrink away. Instead he watched the fiery ball loft upward toward the big snowy brow that frowned over the mouth of the ravine. It sailed farther than he normally had strength to fling any object. He noted this with casual interest, not amazement.
Safar felt as if he were standing several feet away from his own body, calmly studying his own reactions as well as the course of the flaming missile. His separate self found it oddly amusing to see the ball of magical fire slam into the frozen ridge. It was even more amusing to note the wild joy in the boy's eyes who had made it.
A explosion shook the ridge and with calculated interest Safar pondered whether the force of the blast would be enough.
As the frozen mass began peel off, he thought, Hmm. Yes, it was… But will it have the effect I desire?
The mass crashed down onto still another ridge below.
And Safar thought, The snow and ice will shatter. But what of the shale? And if so, will the weight of the whole create a still larger force?
An avalanche was his answer.
Shale and ice and snow thundered down on the demons, moving so fast it overtook them in midcharge.
The boiling wave of snow and ice and rock swallowed them from behind, gobbling them up with an awful hunger. Then all was obscured by an immense white cloud.
Safar stood there, waiting. Then the avalanche ended and a silence as thick as the cold blinding cloud settled over him.
The mist cleared and the only thing Safar could see in the sun's sudden bright light was a broad white expanse running to the edge of a blank-faced cliff that had once been cut by a deep ravine.
Safar nodded, satisfied. The experiment had gone quite well, he thought. Then, still in his mode of the cold observer, he began to wonder about himself. The boy who'd just killed all those living beings. They were demons, of course, and deserved to die. Still.
Still.
Then someone was pounding his back and he turned to find Iraj, pounding, and was babbling congratulations of some sort. The first emotion that thawed Safar's numb interior was annoyance.
He pushed at Iraj's arm. Quit that, he said. It hurts."
Iraj stopped. Safar was surprised to see awe as well as joy on his friend's face.
"You did it, Safar! Iraj shouted. You killed them all!"
The numbness thawed more and Safar was suddenly frightened. Quiet, he said. Someone will hear."
"Who cares? Iraj said. Everyone should hear!"
Safar clutched Iraj's arm. Promise you will say nothing, he pleaded.
Iraj shook his head, bewildered by the request.
"Promise me, Safar insisted. Please!"
After a long moment Iraj nodded. I promise, he said. You're insane to ask it, but I promise just the same."
Then Safar was struck by a wall of weariness that seemed as great as the avalanche. Iraj caught him as he collapsed and then darkness sucked him down and he knew nothing more.
Terrible nightmares inhabited that darkness.
Safar dreamed he was pursued by demon riders across a rocky plain. He ran as fast as he could, leaping ravines and even canyons, dodging falling boulders, bounding over thundering avalanches. The sky was aboil with storm clouds and the sun dripped on the landscape, turning it blood red. And no matter how fast he ran the demon riders were faster.
Suddenly he was naked. He was still running, but now shame mingled with his fright. The demon riders converged on him, cutting in from the sides. Their shrill ululations drove every thought from his head until only fear remained. The demons hurled their spears and Safar saw they were spears of crackling lightning. They struck, burning and jolting his body with awful, painful shocks.
Then the demons were gone and Safar was running on soft grass and the sun was a cheery yellow, the breeze gentle on his naked flesh. He came to a hollow where Naya and the other goats gamboled and drank from the sweet waters of a spring. His mouth was suddenly dry and he knelt among the goats to quench a burning thirst.
And Naya said to him, What have you done, boy?"
"Nothing Little Mother, Safar answered.
But she stuck a lightning bolt in his heart and the lie hurt almost more than he could bear.
The other goats gathered around, baying accusations.
"He's been out killing, one said.