Part 65 (1/2)
Valea had a.s.sumed that what she had dreamed had been an exact re-creation of events. Had she been wrong? Had the dream been all or at least part fiction? It had felt so true, though.
She could hardly argue with the obvious, however. The bookcase and the wall behind it were as solid as they looked. To eradicate any lingering doubt about that, Valea set both hands against the case and pushed with all her might, not just once, not just twice, but three times.
On the third time . . . she fell through.
A firm, even floor, not a death-dealing set of stone steps, welcomed her tumbling body. Valea crashed hard, every bone jarred.
And as she struggled to regain both her senses and the use of her body, a voice, Shade's voice, whispered calmly, ”It is time to strike, Galani.”
In her hand she once more held the dagger.
VII.
HIS GLOVED HANDS gently helped her to her feet. Valea saw that she was now in the maze again, lying on the bench where she had cast the spell contacting Lord Gryphon. The moon rose full overhead.
In its light, Valea saw that she wore a gown of blue.
Shade was even more a specter now than before, but Valea felt Galani draw strength from his presence and so, in turn, did she. It was hard to tell where her own emotions separated from those of the elf. For all the stories of evil she had heard about the warlock, Valea had also heard the tales of sacrifice and heroics. She had long sympathized with his curse, his inability to have one true ident.i.ty.
The hood obscured his murky visage completely as he bent down to peer at her. ”Are you up to it, Galani? I know what I ask of you. Rest a.s.sured, though, that he will be grateful in the end.”
”By me stabbing him? In the heart?” The elf's voice was on the edge of hysteria. ”Tell me again, Tylan! Tell me again that when this blade goes through . . . I won't simply be killing him!”
He put a comforting arm around her. ”With the twin of this dagger-so foolishly provided by me-your cousin bound himself by blood to the forces inherent in the Wyr Stone. Heart and soul. You saw a part of that, remember? By striking true, you will unbind him. He will live, you have my word on that.”
How could Galani not believe him? Certainly Valea did.
”Tylan,” Galani whispered into his chest. ”Will you dance with me?”
Valea and Shade shared confusion. ”Dance with you? Now?”
”It will calm my nerves . . . make me ready.”
The hood considered. ”Arak will be quite some time with his casting. Very well, if it'll better prepare you, then come, my lady . . . let us dance once again.”
He took the elf's hand and as he did, the wind s.h.i.+fted, playing a soft, drifting tune more felt than heard. Shade slowly turned his partner in a circle. Valea was quickly caught up in the dance. In her mind, she now danced with the warlock, felt the vibrancy, the heat of his body as they spun around and around. The maze vanished, only the moonlit sky accompanying the pair.
Only after several breathtaking turns did the sorceress realize that they truly danced on air, not earth, but that only added to the moment. Valea stared into what should have been Shade's eyes and felt certain that they stared back. Again, she imagined what the eyes, the brow, the nose, and mouth actually looked like . . . and suddenly what it would be like to kiss the last.
Valea never wanted it to end, but then she felt the ground beneath her feet and a cool-nay, cold-breeze at her cheek. The music had ceased.
”If you wish to save him, Galani . . . it must be now.”
”Can you not do it?” Valea's mouth asked.
”You know that is beyond me. I cannot myself touch nor wield the Wyr Stone nor even stand near it. I've told you that. It must be you. Remember also that after you have used the dagger, you must touch it against the artifact and do as I've taught you.”
His last comment stirred the sorceress's curiosity. What sort of spellwork did the elf have to perform? Was it not enough that she had to drive a blade into her beloved cousin's heart before Arak understood what was happening?
”I will be with you in spirit,” Shade murmured. ”You know that.”
And to Valea's astonishment and thrill, his lips grazed her own briefly.
Then he was gone, his tall, black form literally becoming part of the night.
She felt Galani pull herself together. So now would come the culmination of these events. Perhaps after this Valea would understand. Perhaps after this the dreams would end.
The elf brought her through the garden, through the the back doors, and straight to the library. For Galani, the bookcase gave way as it always did. Down they went, as silent as the night. Valea marveled at the stealth with which her host moved, but still wondered if it would suffice.
But an army could have likely walked in on Arak and he would not have noticed. The silver-haired elf hunched over the Wyr Stone, eyes hollow and drawn from his efforts. He did not look so monstrous as when Valea had seen him last, but still the effects of manipulating the power of the sinister artifact were quite visible.
Galani had secreted the dagger in her gown, but now she began to remove it. Curiously, the silent action seemed to be the one thing her cousin noticed, either that or he had simply chosen that moment to look up.
”You! What are you doing here, cousin?” Arak grated. ”You should not be here!”
The ferocity in his voice made Valea want to flee, but Galani stepped forward, outwardly cool, inwardly in a panic.
”I came because I was worried about you. You've hardly slept, hardly eaten in weeks. For almost a month, we've hardly spoken.” The female elf stepped nearer. ”You only take what barely sustains you. Surely that cannot be good for your work.”
”As I have said to you many times over the past three months, you could go home any time. You'll be safe there . . . safe and blind to the world once again.”
”I could never leave you like this, Arak! You know that! For the thousandth time, give up whatever madness you attempt!”
”Give up?” The unkempt figure waved a hand toward the Wyr Stone, which flared as if in response to him. ”When my work is nearly complete?”
”Is it?” Galani's hand kept near the hidden dagger. Valea watched through her eyes in morbid fascination and horror as Arak's fearsome visage loomed close. ”Are you certain?”
He laughed darkly. ”You're just like him! Small wonder he's caught your fancy, cousin! He was certain I would fail, too! He said the binding spells keeping anyone from utilizing the full force of the Wyr Stone would be too strong, that I, only a poor elf and not a last sad vestige of a Vraad sorcerer like him, could never understand them, much less know how to remove them . . .” Arak grinned. ”He threw down the gauntlet in challenge with those words! I told him all along that I could do it and so I nearly have! Even he was impressed when I told him that by tonight I would be able to manipulate the stone in whatever fas.h.i.+on I desire . . .”
”And will you use it on the Dragon Kings?”
”Of course!”
As if that settled matters for Galani, she suddenly drew the dagger. Valea screamed in her mind, trying to hold off an outcome she knew inevitable.
Galani's hand hesitated.
Arak snarled and seized her wrist, twisting it. The dagger fell to the floor. Pain coursed through both Valea and her host. Galani was forced to one knee.
”It was you who spied upon me that night! I had scarce believed my own suspicions!” he roared, twisting her arm further. ”I tried to deny it . . . that those old fools would send my own cousin as their a.s.sa.s.sin!”
Through the haze of pain, Valea listened to his accusation with astonishment. Arak actually thought Galani had all this time intended to kill him? Had the Wyr Stone driven him beyond the edge of sanity?
”I was right! It was not fear of change from which the elders suffered but fear that I would control those changes! They, of course, would be so much wiser masters of the stone's abilities, but they decided to leave it to me, the shameful renegade, to make their prize available to them!”
”I do not-you are wrong!”