anything he’d ever dreamed—she hadn’t done it out of love.
No, she had done it out of greed. For she had seen Merlin’s staff, sensed its power, and wanted to own it. When they returned to her village, she had kissed him warmly and promised that he’d be safe, even as she was stealthily signaling to her guards. Bathing in her affection, he hadn’t suspected a thing—until, all of a sudden, he was viciously attacked.
Only thanks to his superior strength and speed, and his experience battling ghoulacas, did he escape with the staff. Not to mention his life. And from that day to this, he’d cursed his gnome-headed foolishness. For he had made, he knew, the worst mistake of his life, almost losing everything he valued in a single mindless moment.
Scree straightened his back and turned away from the mound. Raising his gaze to the ridges above the village, he scanned the windblown summit of Hallia’s Peak. And then, peering beyond, he traced the dark brown ridges that rose in the distance.
Those ridges lifted steadily starward, climbing higher and higher until they vanished in ever-swirling mist. Scree knew that none of his own people, not even the legendary flyers Hac Yarrow and Ilyakk, had ever flown as high as the places that his brother was now seeking. They hadn’t even attempted to fly up to the branches of the Great Tree, considering such a journey beyond the natural reach of their kind. And yet that was just what Tam was trying to do—to voyage not just to the branches, but onward to the stars.
Tam, wherever you are right now, I hope you’re still in one piece. And behaving more sensibly than I am.
Raking the air with his hand, he strode off to stay his last night among the nests of this village. Tomorrow at dawn he would leave, hoping that his strength would fully return during his trip to Fireroot. For although he had less distance to travel than Tam, he knew that he had no less danger to face. And he also knew that, like his brother, he simply had to try his best to survive.
9 • To Live Forever
Reaching up, Tamwyn grabbed hold of a lip of rough brown rock above his head. He pulled, hoisting himself higher, straining his sore arms to gain the upper ledge. Sweat from his brow dribbled into his eyes, stinging.
Just a bit higher, he thought with fierce determination. Almost there now.
Suddenly the lip of rock broke off, spraying pebbles into the air and sending him tumbling backward. He slid and bounced down the cliffside, finally rolling to a stop. For a moment he lay on his back, dust swirling about him, listening to the echoing ring from the quartz bell on his hip—and the softer, deeper note from the slab of wood inside his pack.
“Trolls’ tongues!” he cursed, forcing himself to sit up despite his dizziness.
He stared up at the cliff looming above him. So steep, so lifeless. For two days now, all he had seen—other than the smirking face of that hoolah now and then—was rock. Rough brown rock. It was everywhere, rising higher and higher, climbing straight up to the sky just like . . .
He shook his head, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust. Just like the trunk of a, tree. Which was, of course, what he was climbing. For this was no ordinary tree. This one, it seemed, went on and on forever. And these endless brown ridges were, in fact, its bark—the crusty surface of the trunk’s lower reaches.
Blinking the dust from his eyes, he peered into the thickening clouds of mist that swirled above him. The cliffs beyond the ledge rose upward until, at last, they vanished in the vapors. How far he’d come he couldn’t guess, but he did feel sure that in the time since he’d left Scree he’d only managed to climb a tiny fraction of the trunk.
Why, he hadn’t even glimpsed the Swaying Sea, which was supposed to be somewhere up here. Nor his true goal, which was not the Sea—or the strange appendage, neither root nor branch, that held it. No, what he wanted to find was the portal that was
No, she had done it out of greed. For she had seen Merlin’s staff, sensed its power, and wanted to own it. When they returned to her village, she had kissed him warmly and promised that he’d be safe, even as she was stealthily signaling to her guards. Bathing in her affection, he hadn’t suspected a thing—until, all of a sudden, he was viciously attacked.
Only thanks to his superior strength and speed, and his experience battling ghoulacas, did he escape with the staff. Not to mention his life. And from that day to this, he’d cursed his gnome-headed foolishness. For he had made, he knew, the worst mistake of his life, almost losing everything he valued in a single mindless moment.
Scree straightened his back and turned away from the mound. Raising his gaze to the ridges above the village, he scanned the windblown summit of Hallia’s Peak. And then, peering beyond, he traced the dark brown ridges that rose in the distance.
Those ridges lifted steadily starward, climbing higher and higher until they vanished in ever-swirling mist. Scree knew that none of his own people, not even the legendary flyers Hac Yarrow and Ilyakk, had ever flown as high as the places that his brother was now seeking. They hadn’t even attempted to fly up to the branches of the Great Tree, considering such a journey beyond the natural reach of their kind. And yet that was just what Tam was trying to do—to voyage not just to the branches, but onward to the stars.
Tam, wherever you are right now, I hope you’re still in one piece. And behaving more sensibly than I am.
Raking the air with his hand, he strode off to stay his last night among the nests of this village. Tomorrow at dawn he would leave, hoping that his strength would fully return during his trip to Fireroot. For although he had less distance to travel than Tam, he knew that he had no less danger to face. And he also knew that, like his brother, he simply had to try his best to survive.
9 • To Live Forever
Reaching up, Tamwyn grabbed hold of a lip of rough brown rock above his head. He pulled, hoisting himself higher, straining his sore arms to gain the upper ledge. Sweat from his brow dribbled into his eyes, stinging.
Just a bit higher, he thought with fierce determination. Almost there now.
Suddenly the lip of rock broke off, spraying pebbles into the air and sending him tumbling backward. He slid and bounced down the cliffside, finally rolling to a stop. For a moment he lay on his back, dust swirling about him, listening to the echoing ring from the quartz bell on his hip—and the softer, deeper note from the slab of wood inside his pack.
“Trolls’ tongues!” he cursed, forcing himself to sit up despite his dizziness.
He stared up at the cliff looming above him. So steep, so lifeless. For two days now, all he had seen—other than the smirking face of that hoolah now and then—was rock. Rough brown rock. It was everywhere, rising higher and higher, climbing straight up to the sky just like . . .
He shook his head, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust. Just like the trunk of a, tree. Which was, of course, what he was climbing. For this was no ordinary tree. This one, it seemed, went on and on forever. And these endless brown ridges were, in fact, its bark—the crusty surface of the trunk’s lower reaches.
Blinking the dust from his eyes, he peered into the thickening clouds of mist that swirled above him. The cliffs beyond the ledge rose upward until, at last, they vanished in the vapors. How far he’d come he couldn’t guess, but he did feel sure that in the time since he’d left Scree he’d only managed to climb a tiny fraction of the trunk.
Why, he hadn’t even glimpsed the Swaying Sea, which was supposed to be somewhere up here. Nor his true goal, which was not the Sea—or the strange appendage, neither root nor branch, that held it. No, what he wanted to find was the portal that was
Similar Books
