Part 33 (1/2)

”You wait to no purpose,” the shade sneered.

But Brin did not move. She composed herself carefully, breathing in the damp air of the lake and drawing her thoughts close about her. The Grimpond stayed suspended above the waters of the lake, unmoving, its eyes turned toward her. Brin let those eyes draw her close. A serene look came over her dusky face, and the long black hair fanned back. It does not yet see what I will do! She smiled inwardly, and the thought was gone an instant after it had come.

Then softly, she began to sing. The wishsong rose into the midday with sweet and gentle words from the lips of the girl seated upon the lakesh.o.r.e, to fill the air about her. Quickly, it reached out and bound the misted form of the Grimpond, weaving and twisting with its magic.

So startled was the shade that it did not stir from its resting spot, but hung suspended within the web of the magic as it slowly drew tighter. Then, for the barest second, the Grimpond seemed to sense what was happening to it. Beneath its gathered robes, the lake waters boiled and hissed.

But the wishsong swiftly swept all about the imprisoned form, wrapping it away as if it had become a chrysalis.

Now the Valegirl's voice came quicker and with more certain intent. The shrouding of the first song, the gentle, womblike wrapping that had bound the Grimpond without his seeing, was gone. A prisoner now, as surely as the fly caught within the spider's web, the shade was to be dealt with as its captor chose. Yet the Valegirl used neither force of arms nor strength of mindagainst this being, for she had seen that such would be useless. Memories were the weapons she called to her aid now-memories of what had once been, of what had been lost and could never be regained. All came back once more within the wishsong's music. There was the touch of a human hand, warm and kind. There was the smell and taste of sweetness and light and the sensation of love and joy, of life and death. There were all these and others, lost to the Grimpond in its present form, barely remembered from the life long since gone.

With a cry of anguish, the Grimpond sought to evade the old sensations, s.h.i.+mmering and roiling in a cloud of mist. Yet it could not escape the magic of the song; slowly, the sensations caught it up and held it, and it was given over to their memories. Brin could feel the shade's emotions come again to life, and within the memories exhumed, the Grimpond's tears flowed.

She sang steadily. When the shade was hers completely, she hardened herself against her own pain and drew back what she had given.

”No!” the apparition howled in dismay. ”Give them back, Valegirl! Give them back to me!”

”Tell me what I would know,” she sang, the threads of the questions weaving through her song. ”Tell me!”

With frightening suddenness, the Grimpond's words came pouring out as if released with the anguish that tore its forgotten soul. ”Graymark bridges the Maelmord where it lies within the Ravenshorn-Graymark, the castle of the Wraiths. There lies the way that is sought, a maze of sewers that runs from its halls and chambers deep beneath the rock on which it stands, to empty into a basin far below. Enter through the sewers; and the eyes of the walkers will not see!”

”The Sword of Leah,” Brin pressed harshly. ”Where can it be found? Tell me!”

Anguish wrenched the Grimpond through and through as she touched him in taunting strokes with the feel of what had been lost. ”Spider Gnomes!” the shade cried desperately. ”The blade lies within their camp, s.n.a.t.c.hed from the waters of the Chard Rush, gathered in by the nets and snares they keep fastened to its banks!”

Abruptly, Brin drew back the magic of the wishsong, filled with the memories and the sensations of the old life. She drew it clear in a swift, painless rush, freeing the imprisoned shade from the trappings that had bound it. The echoes of the song lingered in the stillness that hung across the empty lake, dying into a single haunting note that rang in the midday air. It was a note of forgetfulness-a sweet, ghostly cry that left the Grimpond as it had been.

There was a long, terrible silence then. Slowly Brin rose to her feet and stared full into the face that was the mirror of her own. Something deep within her howled in dismay as she saw the look that came upon that face. It was as if she had done this to herself!

And the Grimpond realized now what had been done. ”You have tricked from me the truth, dark child!” the shade wailed bitterly. ”I sense that you have done so. Ah, black you are!

Black!”

The shade's voice broke, and the gray waters boiled and steamed. Brin stood frozen at the edge of the lake, afraid to turn away or to speak. Inside, she was empty and cold.

Then the Grimpond lifted its robed arm. ”One last game then, Valegirl-something back from me to you! Let this be my gift! Look into the mist, here beside me where it forms-look closely now! See you this!”

Brin knew then that she should flee, but somehow she could not. The mist seemed to gather before her, swirling and spreading in a sheet of gray that lightened and smoothed. A slow, s.h.i.+mmering motion rippled across its surface like still water disturbed, and an image formed-afigure, crouched low within a darkened cell, his movements furtive...

Jair s.n.a.t.c.hed back the vision crystal, thrusting it deep within his tunic, praying that the shadows and the gloom hid from the Mwellret what it was that he did. Perhaps he had been quick enough. Perhaps...

”Ssaw the magicss, Elfling,” the harsh voice rasped, das.h.i.+ng his hopes. ”Ssenssed all along that the magicss were yourss. Sshare them with me, little friend. Sshow what you have.”

Jair shook his head slowly, fear mirrored in his blue eyes. ”Stay away from me Stythys.

Stay back from me.”

The Mwellret laughed-a low, guttural laugh that echoed in the emptiness of the cell and the long corridors beyond. The creature swelled suddenly within the dark robes, rising up against the dim light like a monstrous shadow.

”Threatenss me, ssmall one? Crussh you like a tiny egg if you usse the magicss on me.

Sstay quiet now, little friend. Look into my eyess. Ssee the lightss.”

Lidded, scaled eyes glimmered, cold and compelling. Jair forced his own eyes down, knowing that he could not look, that if he did so he would belong once again to the creature. But it was so hard not to look. He wanted to see into those eyes; he wanted to be drawn into them and the peace and serenity that waited there.

”Ssee, Elfling,” the monster hissed.

Jair's hand closed about the small bulk of the vision crystal until he could feel the edges cutting into his palm. Concentrate on the pain, he thought frantically. Don't look. Don't look!

Then the Mwellret hissed angrily and one hand lifted. ”Give to me the magicss! Give them to me!”

Voiceless, Jair Ohmsford shrank back from him...

The Grimpond's robed arm came down sharply and the screen of mist dissolved and was gone. Brin lurched forward desperately, stepping off the rock-strewn sh.o.r.eline into the gray waters of the lake. Jair! That had been Jair in the images! What was it that had happened to him?

”Did you enjoy that game, Brin of the Vale people?” whispered the avatar harshly, the waters roiling once again beneath where it hung. ”Did you see what has happened to your precious brother whom you thought safe within the Vale? Did you see?”

Brin fought back against the rage that welled up within her. ”Lies, Grimpond. You tell only lies this time.”

The shade chuckled softly. ”Lies? Think what you wish, Valegirl. A game is only a game, after all. A diversion from the truth. Or is it truth revealed?” Robed arms drew close, the mist swirling. ”Dark you are, Brin of Shannara, of Ohmsford, of history sp.a.w.ned. Dark as the magic with which you play. Go from me, now. Take what you have learned of the clown prince's magic and the pa.s.sage to your death. Find what you seek and become what you surely will! Get you gone from me!”

The Grimpond began to fade back into the gray mist that rolled behind it over the lake's murky waters. Brin stood transfixed upon the sh.o.r.eline, wanting to hold the shade back, but knowing that this time she could not.

Suddenly the shade paused in its retreat, red eyes narrowing into slits within the mist robes. Brin's own face leered back at her, a twisted mask of evil. ”See me as you are, Brin of the Vale people. Savior and destroyer, mirror of life and death. The magic uses all, dark child-evenyou!”

Then the Grimpond disappeared back into the wall of the mist, its laughter soft and wicked in the deep silence. Soundlessly, the grayness closed about it and it was gone.

Brin stared after it a moment, lost in a gathering of fears, doubts, and whispered warnings. Then slowly she turned and walked back to the trees.

33.

Dark and forbidding, the Mwellret Stythys advanced through the gloom of the little cell, and Jair backed slowly away.

”Give to me the magicss,” the monster hissed, and the crooked fingers beckoned.

”Relea.s.se them, Elfling.”

The Valeman retreated further into the shadows, the chains that bound his wrists and ankles dragging. Then the cell wall was pressing into his back and there was nowhere left to go.

I cannot even run from him! he thought desperately.

A soft sc.r.a.ping of leather boots on stone sounded from the cell entry and the Gnome jailer appeared from the corridor beyond. Head lowered into shadow, the hooded form pa.s.sed silently through the open doorway into the room. Stythys turned at the other's approach, cold eyes glittering with displeasure.

”Ssent not for little peopless,” the Mwellret muttered darkly, and the scaled hands motioned the Gnome away.

But the jailer paid no heed. Mute and unresponsive, he shuffled past the lizard creature as if he had not seen him and came directly toward Jair. Head still lowered, hands tucked deep into the folds of the ragged cloak, the Gnome slipped wraithlike through the dark. Jair watched his approach with mingled surprise and uncertainty. As the little man came closer, the Valeman shrank back in repulsion against the stone of the cell wall, the iron of his chains clanking as he raised his hands defensively.

”Sstand away, little peopless!” Stythys rasped, angry now, and his scaled body drew itself up menacingly.