A wave of bone-grinding, stomach-churning pain burned upward from his rotting gut. When the pain receded, he lay gasping, staring up into Harkon's dark eyes. "What do you need me to do?" Harkon smiled. "Very little, my friend, very little." Calum waited for the words to fall from Harkon's lips, waited to hear how he would betray his friends, how he would destroy one of them utterly. They both knew Konrad would not survive in Harkon's body. He, too, would be killed. Calum knew that, and yet he listened.
His eyes flicked to his desk and the waiting skull. He felt he should apologize to the bones of his friend for forcing them to watch his fall. He had fought the land his entire life, but finally it had offered him something too precious to refuse. He wanted to live. And he was willing to pay the price, even if that price was another person's blood. Even if someday he paid with his soul. For a second chance, even that seemed a small price to pay.
TWO
Elaine Claim knelt in front of the huge kitchen fireplace. The children crowded close to the fire, not for the heat, but so they would not miss any movement of Elaine's hands.
Her small, slender hands passed in front of the flames. Fingertips fanned wide, so close to the flames that heat wavered round her skin. She stared into the leaping fire, the backs of her fingers touched together. Her wrists rolled outward like flower petals unfolding. From the tips of her fingers images leapt. A tiny, perfect man walked in the flames. It was as if the fire were a wavering mirror on which the man moved.
He wore a white fur cloak, hood thrown back to reveal shoulder-length yellow hair. The hair was the same pale gold as the winter sunshine. He strode through knee-deep snow, surrounded by black, winter-bare trees. Elaine whispered, "Elaine."
A second man walked with him, wearing a three-cornered hat tied round his head by a multicolored scarf. The grip of a great two-handed sword showed at his coat collar. "Thordin."
The two men passed under a tall tree. It was the great tree. It towered over the rest of the forest like a giant among dwarves. Lightning had killed it two years ago, but its dead, bare branches were still a landmark for miles around.
The branches twitched, swaying above the men. A branch began to move downward, a slow creaking effort that had nothing to do with wind. The skeletal bough reached for Elaine, icy twigs like daggers.
Elaine screamed, "Elaine!" She plunged her hands into the flames, as if she could grab him to safety. Flames licked at the sleeves of her robe. Her hands touched the back of the fireplace, flames flaring around her shoulders, her face.
Hands jerked her backward. "Elaine!" A blanket was wrapped around her smoking clothes, smothering the flames. Her skin was untouched, protected by her magic. The cloth was not so lucky. "Elaine, can you see me? Can you hear me?"
She blinked upward; a bearded face came into focus. The smell of stew hung thick and heavy in the air. Fresh-baked bread was cooling nearby. Elaine lay in the familiar clatters and smells of the kitchen and knew she was safe. But others weren't. "Jonathan, help them…."
"Help whom?"
"Elaine, Thordin."
"I saw the vision." The cook's oldest son, all of eight, knelt beside them. The other children were huddled at a safe distance.
"What did you see, Alan?"
"The great tree attacked them."
Jonathan stared down at Elaine. "True?"
"Yes."
Jonathan did not argue that it was impossible. "Do you think your warning was in time?"
Elaine clutched at him. "I don't know."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Find Elaine and Thordin."
"Child, by the time we could reach them by the great tree, the fight will be won or lost."
Her hand dug into his tunic. Her eyes were wild. "Then bring back the bodies for burial."
He stared down into her face. He nodded slowly. "That we can do." Jonathan turned to the boy, Alan. "Find Tereza, tell her what you saw. She will know what to do."
The boy ran from the kitchen.
"Can you stand if I help you, child?"
Elaine nodded.
Jonathan stood, lifting her to her feet as he moved. The cook, Mala, pushed a straight-backed chair near the fire. Jonathan eased Elaine into the chair, tucking the slightly charred blanket tighter around her. Mala shoved a mug of hot tea in Elaine's hands.
Elaine cupped her hands around the mug, as if it had no handle, warming her cold hands. She was always cold after a vision. Blankets, hot drinks, bed for an hour or so, then she was as good as new. But today she had seen her brother's death. Mo, he wasn't dead, she'd know that, but he could be hurt, dying, while she sat and sipped tea. She didn't have time to recover, to be weak. She had to know what had happened to Elaine.
Tereza entered the kitchen bundled against the cold. A second coat was flung over one arm. She held the clothes out to Jonathan without saying a word.
He slipped into the coat and tucked a hat over his bald head.
"I'm going with you," Elaine said.
Jonathan froze in the middle of pulling on mittens. They both looked at her.
"You haven't recovered from your vision, Elaine. You aren't well enough to travel," Jonathan said. He finished tugging on his mittens.
"He's my brother, all the family I have. I have to go."
"You will slow us down," Tereza said.
"The fight will be over before anyone can help them. Jonathan said so. If that's true, then it doesn't matter if I slow you down, does it?"
It was very sensible. A great deal more sensible than Elaine felt. She could taste her pulse in her throat. If Elaine were badly hurt in the cold snow, they couldn't get to him in time. The cold would finish what the animated tree had started. So why was her stomach tight, her heart pounding? She had to go with them. She couldn't just wait here in the kitchen, safe.
Tereza looked at her husband. "Jonathan?"
He looked almost embarrassed. "It is the truth."
"We can't wait for hours. The wolves might find them, dead or alive."
"We can go now," Elaine said.
The look on Tereza's face said she doubted that, but she didn't argue. "I will fetch your coat. But you must be ready to go when I get back. We won't wait on you, Elaine." She left, back very straight. Tereza did not like waiting on anyone, especially if she thought it was silly.
It wasn't silly, but Elaine knew she couldn't explain that to Tereza. Or to Jonathan. Blaine would have understood, but he was out in the snow, bleeding, hurt, or worse. Elaine tried to convince herself she would know if her twin brother were dead, but somehow she didn't believe it. She wasn't sure. Once the vision was past, she didn't trust her feelings. Feelings lied; they could tell you what you wanted to believe, not what was true.
"She doesn't mean to be harsh with you." Jonathan took off his knit cap, a sheen of sweat already glistening on his forehead.
"I have to go, Jonathan." She gulped the last of the tea. It was too hot and burned the roof of her mouth, but she needed the warmth. She really didn't feel well enough to go. Tereza was right, but it didn't matter. Elaine would go. She had to go.
Tereza returned with a white fur cloak that was the twin of the one Blaine had worn in the vision. Elaine glanced up. She wasn't completely sure she could stand, but the look on Tereza's face was plain. Either Elaine got up now, or she didn't go.
Mala appeared, lifting the tea mug from her hand. Her face was neutral, but her eyes held concern. She was always on the side of the children, everybody's children.