A shimmering blue light grew around the Oltor, and Duvo sat amazed as he saw the creature’s spirit swell out
from his body, shining and wondrous, growing, filling the sky – a colossal, towering figure, whose gigantic arms reached out to touch the stars, cradling them in his palms. Flowers sprang into life around the Oltor’s body – small snowdrops, yellow daffodils, shining in the bright moonlight. Time ceased to have meaning for the human, and as the music faded he felt a wrench, and a sense of great loss. Tears fell from Duvo’s eyes and he fought back a wave of sorrow threatening to engulf him. The Oltor Prime laid his hands on Duvo’s shoulders. ‘I am sorry, my friend. The magic was almost too powerful for you. Be at peace.’ The sorrow faded, replaced by a sense of melancholy.
‘I watched you touch the stars,’ said Duvo. ‘How I envy you that power!’
‘There is more to see, if you have the desire,’ the Oltor Prime told him.
Duvodas heard the sadness in his voice. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘I have the answers, Duvo, but they are painful. When the Daroth had destroyed my people, they set themselves to obliterate the Eldarin. Like us the Eldarin would not fight, but they honed their magic and cast a mighty spell.’ Reaching out to the edge of the snow, the Oltor swept his hand across it, scooping it, then rolling it into a ball. This he tossed into the air – where it instantly vanished. ‘The Eldarin spell ripped out across the land, gathering power, swallowing the Daroth cities, and containing them in a black Pearl which the Eldarin hid within the topmost peak of the highest mountain. The threat was gone, yet not one Daroth was slain. When the human armies came against the Eldarin there were those who considered repeating the magic, trapping the humans. But the Council of Elders chose a different route. They
cast the spell against themselves – leaving one elder to take charge of the new Pearl.
‘The humans killed him. And the Pearl became a cause for yet another war. It was perceived as a magical artefact – which indeed it was. And now, as a result of the greed and lust for power of one man, the Daroth have returned and the Eldarin Pearl is far from its home.’ The Oltor Prime sighed, then he turned to Duvo and laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘Would you like to see the city of Eldarisa again?’
‘More than anything.’
‘Then stand close to me.’ The Oltor rose and lifted his arms, and once more the bitter cold of winter enveloped the hillside, the circle of flowers dying within minutes. Clouds gathered, and fresh snow fell upon the parkland and the city. But it did not touch Duvodas or the Oltor. For now they stood on the barren rocks that had once been the land of the Eldarin.
And here there was no snow.
Karis was very drunk. She stared gloomily at the empty jug. Rolling to her knees, she forced herself upright, staggered, and fell heavily to a couch. It had seemed so easy when she had promised the Duke to control her rebellious, volatile nature. Day after exhausting day she had forced herself to behave like a general, coolly detached as she supervised training routines, discussed logistics and supplies with politicians and merchants, planned strategies with her captains. Today she had watched Forin take delivery of the new axes, double-headed and deadly, each weighing thirty pounds. Even the strongest of Forin’s men had been surprised at the weight of the weapons. She had gone from there to the forge of Ozhobar, and viewed the construction of the catapult, and from there to the barracks building
roof where carpenters and builders were arguing over the best way to strip it and lay a flat surface for the weapon. And that was only the morning.
An appealing thought struck her. She should run to the stables, saddle Warain and ride off into the mountains, heading south for Loretheli! There she could book passage to the southern islands, where winter had no hold. I could run naked on the sands, she thought, and swim in the warm sea.