Riverwind insisted. Goldmoon could see that his face was
pale and anxious.
“How strange,” the princess whispered. “And I thought
YOU had disappeared.”
Riverwind’s voice grew stem, hiding his fear for her in
a show of annoyance. “Don’t ever go off without me again!
There’s no telling what evil creatures inhabit this tomb! And
you with nothing to defend yourself but that stupid crystal
dagger of yours.”
“It isn’t a stupid dagger,” Goldmoon retorted. “It is a – ”
The princess stopped in mid-sentence. She had been about
to say that it was a sacred relic of the Que-shu, but a sudden
insight made her gasp: A dagger HINDERED healing. She
drew it from her boot-sheath. She had not wiped off the
blade after stabbing Hollow-sky, and the traitor’s blood
made the crystal appear to be rusted. Shuddering from the
memory of his final, long scream, she placed it on the altar.
“Riverwind, hand me your shield,” she commanded.
Puzzlement clearly written on his face, Riverwind
unstrapped the wooden disk from his arm. “What are you
going to do?” he demanded.
Goldmoon put her fingertips on his lips and said, “Trust
me.” Riverwind let her take the shield from him. She
stepped close to the altar and raised the shield high over her
head, but then she paused and lowered it again to her side.
If she destroyed the dagger, she would have to explain to
her father, probably to the whole tribe, why she had done
so. Loreman would find some way to twist her action to
make it seem evil. Her father would never forgive her. The
tribe would not easily let go of their belief in their false
gods.
Stealing a glance at Riverwind, she saw that he looked
weary and ill. He limped with each step, and there was a
blood-red bruise on his cheek where Hollow-sky’s longstick
had struck him.
If she earned the amulet back, she could heal all his
wounds, make him whole. That was a power unknown in
her tribe, a power that could help them all. A power, her
mother had said, that might prevent an ancient evil from
conquering mankind. She raised the shield quickly and
smashed it down upon the crystal weapon.
Goldmoon dropped the shield to the side as the shards
of crystal began to glow with a blue light; the light grew
brighter until it was painful to look at. The sound of glass
chimes tinkling in the wind crescendoed. Goldmoon heard
her mother’s voice.
“Taste now what you will know in full one day, my
child, but think of the healing as a GIFT from the gods, not
a power.”
The shards of crystal on the altar spun about as though
they were sand caught in a dust devil.
Riverwind gasped in fear.
Then, in a flash, the jagged crystalline shards flew at the
princess, penetrating her flesh like darts.
“Goldmoon!” Riverwind shouted. He dashed forward to
catch her as she fell back from the altar. Her skin glittered
with the splintered crystal.
“I’m all right,” she whispered calmly.
Riverwind gasped. There was no sign of pain on her
face, no sign of blood on her robes. “You should be dead.”
“No,” she answered hesitantly. “I have never felt so
alive!”
Riverwind lowered her gently to her feet, but he did not
let go of her fully.
Placing her hands on his cheeks, Goldmoon wished for
him to feel as she did.
The warrior drew a deep breath of surprise. She smiled,
feeling the tingling energy flow from her hands into him.
The crystal shards faded and disappeared. The weariness
left Riverwind’s face, and the color returned to it. The
wound on his cheek vanished without a trace of a scar, and
he stood up straighter, without any sign of pain in his knee.
“What have you done?” he asked in awe.
“I’ve sacrificed the dagger as my mother told me to do.”
Riverwind’s eyes narrowed. “I see. You’ve spoken to
your gods.” His tone was bitter.
“I’ve spoken with my mother,” Goldmoon corrected.
She could tell that the blank look he gave her masked
disbelief.
“Oh, Riverwind,” she said softly, drawing him near.
“Wanderer was right! You are right! My mother told me