“Not one as withered as yours, old hag,” Braddoc quipped, apparently to lighten the tension. He threw the crone a smile to soften the words.
Karleah responded with only a “Harrumph!” then said, “I found their trail. They’ve taken the western pass.” The old woman shook her head. “They’ve got a good day, day and a half, on us. They aren’t in any hurry, but I doubt we can gain much ground on them.”
“You know it’s cracked, don’t you?” Brisbois murmured to Jo as he wandered stiffly to his horse.
“What?” Jo cried, rounding on him with fiery eyes.
Brisbois busied himself with the straps and buckles of his mount. “A hairline crack. I saw it in the sunlight when I was on the ground.”
Jo held Wyrmblight up in front of her, studying the blade with anxiety. Looking up, her blush deepened in hue and she snorted. “I don’t see anything.”
The defamed knight shrugged casually and swung up into the saddle in one motion. “Let’s be off,” he said. “We re burning daylight!”
Braddoc’s hand gripped Jo’s trembling arm and he said, “Let it go, Johauna. Let it go.” He took Wyrmblight from her hands and began to snap it into the harness on her back. As he did so, his eyes scanned worriedly along the blade’s white steel.
Chapter XIV
Karleah held up her hand, and the three riders behind her halted their mounts immediately. They were near Armstead, the wizardess knew, and they did not dare come upon the village unprepared. Through the leather of the pouch around her neck, Karleah could feel the heat radiating from the abelaat crystal as it grew closer to the abaton. She only hoped she was right in supposing that the crystal would prevent the abaton from draining her powers a second time. Karleah took heart in the fact that she had begun to regain her powers faster since the crystal had come into her possession.
The wizardess gingerly dismounted from her gray mare. “I’m too old for this,” she mumbled. “Far too old. I want to go back to my valley”
“What’s that, Karleah?” Jo asked curiously.
Karleah turned to face the squire. She thought that the trip had done the young woman good; the despair and anger that had consumed Jo at Flinn’s death were still there, but were under slightly better control. Karleah hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer before Jo was able to put those emotions behind her. The old woman shook her head.
“Nothing, Jo,” Karleah said. She cocked her head northward. “I think Armsteads just beyond that bend. At least I think the abaton’s there, according to this crystal.” Karleah touched the crystals pouch. “I suggest you and Braddoc lead the way, in case we run into the guards. Dayin and I’ll bring up the rear—and hopefully not be engulfed by the abaton.”
“That box wouldn’t open up and ‘swallow’ you like it did the charm in Threshold, would it, Karleah?” Braddoc asked.
“Why, is that concern I detect?” Karleah cackled suddenly to hide how touched she was at the dwarfs words. She tapped Braddoc with her oaken staff. “Seriously, friend dwarf, I think being swallowed by the box might be one of the nicer things the abaton could do to me.”
Riding, Jo led the way north, with Braddoc right behind her. Each led one of the two pack mules. Karleah gestured for Brisbois and Dayin to go before her, then she joined the group as they filed forward through the last of the Black Peaks.
The mountains had brought two days of misery to Karleah’s ancient frame. The cold, biting wind of late winter whistled through the Black Peaks. Despite a fire, nothing could warm their stony beds at night. To make matters worse, the moon had turned full, and Karleah had felt the call more than once to turn to wolf form. Someday soon, she mused now, I will stay that way forever. I shall roam the hills and live and die as an old she-wolf. Some days, I am so weary of my human form. But the old wizardess hadn’t dared to give in to her desires so near the abaton.
The group wound steadily through the last of the Black Peaks, the icy obsidian trail gnawing through even Karleah’s thick boots. The ground was treacherous afoot, and the crone wished she were back on her mare. The obsidian chips blended so well with the patches of ice that it was often difficult to distinguish which was which. The midafternoon sun did not light the land either, for it was obstructed by all the towering mountains, which added to the difficulty of the journey.
Or is something happening to me? Karleah thought suddenly. Surely I shouldn’t be having this much trouble? The others are doing fine. Or am I really, truly growing old at last? A part of her was troubled by the idea, while another part—a most ancient part—savored the idea of nearing the end of her existence. Karleah eyed Jo’s young, lithe form with a twinge of jealousy.
The old woman quelled those thoughts ruthlessly. “I am not yet ready for the next life,” she muttered to the wind.
An hour passed before Karleah and her comrades rounded the last bend. By this time, the heat from the abelaat crystal was nearly scorching, and Karleah wondered if she would be able to withstand it any closer to the abaton. “At least it seems to be protecting me,” Karleah murmured to no one. She held out her oaken staff, which had recently served as nothing more than a walking stick. “With this stone, I can sense my powers returning.”
Up ahead, Jo exclaimed in surprise. The squire stopped walking, her horse and mule halting behind her. Braddoc joined Jo, and Dayin and Brisbois hurried after him. Karleah heard their startled murmurs and prayers and tried to rush forward. She cursed the rocky ground and fought for each unstable step, wishing her staff could clear a path for her, as it had done in her own valley. The wizardess climbed her way to the top of the small crest where Jo, Brisbois, Braddoc, and Dayin stood. Shouldering her way between the dwarf and the boy, she looked into the valley beyond. The old woman gasped.
Armstead lay in ruins.
Not a single tower had been spared. The area looked as if it had been the center of a great bonfire that had spread in sudden waves out into even the forest beyond. The ground was blackened and striped with coal and ash. The buildings lay in smoldering ruin, walls toppled as though pushed over by a giant’s foot. Even the outer wall, more decorative than anything else, had been flattened to rubble. The stream that had flowed into Armstead was a scorched bed of rock and ash, and piles of uprooted trees and shattered bridges and buildings formed a natural dam that let only a timid finger of water through. A fine haze of charcoal dust filled the air, creating dull and ironic rainbows. Karleah accidentally took too deep a breath and was caught in a fit of choking.
She stumbled forward, her step uncertain as she hurried down the slope leading to the village. “No, no,” she whispered. “Not Armstead . . Her mind was filled with a red-hot pounding sensation, so much so that she forgot the hot pain radiating from the abelaat crystal.
The group slowly headed through the broken archway in the outer wall. Karleah stared at the scorched rock. Her eyes fell on the smooth pavement of the road leading into the village, then shifted to the destroyed buildings nearby.
The tiny village had housed no more than fifty or so mages at any one time. Its one-time buildings—great, soaring structures of incredible creation—-were considered some of the finest pieces of architecture ever created. Its spires formed the famous Mages’ Circle, at the center of which was the amphitheater where all public meetings were held.
“Karleah!” Jo asked. “Is this the work of the abaton?”
“Yes,” Karleah muttered. “We didn’t arrive in time. Look at that spire!” The wizardess pointed to the remains of a tower. “Wazel lived there—an old friend of mine. When the time was right, I was going to send Dayin to him for polishing.”