Shadows on the Stars (43 page)

“What?” exclaimed Elli. “You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?”

“That’s up to you,” said the bard. “It’s not easy, mind you, and it requires the greatest concentration you can muster—even more than riding through a portal. Not to mention a fair bit of courage.”

Suddenly, his face contorted. “How foolish of me! The only people who can ride the wind are those who carry a magical object of great power. That is why, I am told, Merlin could do it in days long past. Not by his own magic, but by that of his staff, Ohnyalei. So unless you have something of that nature, I’m afraid this idea won’t help you.”

Elli and Nuic shared a glance—uncertain but intrigued. After all, they did possess two of the most powerful magical objects in Avalon.

“How exactly does it work?” asked Nuic. “If it really does work, that is.”

“Well,” began the bard with a wave at the air beyond the cloud, “it’s quite simple, really. You stand at the edge of a cloud, hold tight to your source of magic, and think hard about where you want the wind to carry you. And then . . .”

His expression turned somewhat sheepish. “Then you jump.”

Elli’s eyes opened to their widest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well now, how do you suppose I ever got to this cloud in the first place?”

She frowned skeptically. “Where’s your magical object, then?”

He rolled his eyes upward. Perfectly on cue, the teardrop-shaped creature on his head took a bow, making its translucent robe shimmer in the misty starlight.

“Your museo?”

“Of course. For a bard, there can be no greater magic.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t believe you.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “You look quite tired, my dear. Perhaps you’d feel differently after some rest.”

“Of course I’m tired,” she retorted. “But I don’t see how some rest will change the fact you think we should jump off a cloud!”

The bard answered by strumming a chord on his lute.

Before Elli could say another word, the museo began to hum again. This time, its magical music wrapped around her like a blanket, warming her deeply. She tried to protest, but instead she could only yawn.

As the vibrating voice swelled louder, all the gathered exhaustion of the journey welled up inside her. Even if she’d wanted to resist, she didn’t have the strength. Her eyelids drooped heavily. Before she knew it, she was settling down into a welcoming bed that seemed every bit as soft as a cloud.

So quickly did she fall asleep that she barely even heard the bard begin his ballad:

Fair Avalon, the Tree of Life
That ev’ry creature knows—
A world part Heaven and part Earth
And part what wind that blows.

40
•
The Thousand Groves

Elli dreamed, not surprisingly, that she was floating on a cloud. She sat up to view her surroundings, turning her head slowly as she took in the vista. Mist swirled and vapors billowed overhead, the air was moist against her cheeks, and a fluttering breeze tousled her curls. All around, wispy clouds drifted through the hazy air, glowing as they passed through slanted beams of starlight.

Yet this was clearly a different cloud than the one where she’d been lulled to sleep by magical music. For this cloud held no bard, no museo, and no Nuic. She was utterly alone.

Then she heard footsteps.

Padding softly across the moist, squishy surface of the cloud, someone drew nearer. And nearer. She spun around to face the source of the sound, but saw nothing beyond the veils of rising mist.

She leaped to her feet, which slapped on the surface. Still she could see no one else on the cloud. Yet the footsteps only grew louder.

Suddenly she noticed rays of green light, striping her forearms and the front of her robe. They were coming from her crystal of élano! Astounded, she reached her fingers toward the amulet that hung around her neck. As she gently parted the oak, ash, and hawthorn leaves, more rays, blindingly bright, shot forth. Unlike the crystal’s normal color—white with hints of green and blue—this time it was entirely green.

Just then she saw a matching green in the mist just in front of her. It looked like—could it be?
Tamwyn’s staff
, glowing green along its full length.

Then a hand materialized out of the vapors, grabbing hold of the staff. An arm followed, a sturdy shoulder, some loose black hair . . .

Tamwyn! He stood there on the cloud, facing her. His coal black eyes glittered.

“Hello, Elli.”

It took a few seconds for her to speak. “Tamwyn?”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “It’s me.”

She shook her curls, thicker than a tangle of newly sprouted ferns. “Is this . . . a dream?”

“Mmm, well—yes and no. We’re somewhere that’s not quite real, but not quite a dream, either. It’s a place
in between.
And I’ve come to you by magic. My own magic.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

He nodded, swishing his locks against his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of it anymore, Elli! That’s what scared me so much, back at the Stargazing Stone. Why, I thought it might . . .”

“Might what?”

“Hurt you.” His tone softened. “And that was the last thing I wanted.”

She studied him for a moment. “My guess is that you were scared of more than just your magic, Tamwyn. But this does help explain why you acted like such—”

“A dolt,” he finished.

“An idiot, I was going to say.” She nodded for emphasis. “And, you know, being an idiot is your specialty! Really, I wouldn’t recognize you if you weren’t like that some of the time.”

“Much of the time,” he said, suddenly wondering whether he had made a big mistake in coming here. “If you’re going to berate me,” he said resignedly, “I guess that’s what I deserve.”

She cocked her head. “I’m not going to berate you, Tamwyn.” Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “But I am going to say . . . I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” He swallowed. “Well, you know, I—well . . .”

“What?”

He gathered himself. “I’ve missed you, too.”

She burst out laughing, and around her shoulders, thin shreds of mist shimmered and spun.

He took her hand. “Elli, I’ve seen some terrible things. And some wonderful things, too.”

“So have I.”

“Where are you now?”

“In Airroot, about to . . .” She caught herself before telling him the outlandish idea the bard had proposed. “About to go to Shadowroot. Then down a deep mine—to destroy Kulwych’s crystal.”

He grimaced. “Which is also Rhita Gawr’s crystal.”

Worry filled her face. “Tamwyn, they’ve corrupted it somehow. Made it evil. Rhia gave me this,” she added, pointing at her amulet, “so at least I might have a chance.”

He blew a long breath, scattering the rising strands of mist from the cloud. “A deep mine in Shadowroot. Just the sort of place White Hands and his master would hide themselves—until they’re finally ready to attack.” He shook his head. “How will you find them, though? How will you know where to go in that perpetual darkness?”

Her gaze fell. “I don’t know. What we really need, as Nuic says, is a map. But that’s impossible.”

Tamwyn squeezed her hand. “Wait, now. I just remembered something! You see, I have a new friend, who healed my wounds after a battle.”

She stiffened, recalling the scene in the Galator. “Who is she?”

“He,” Tamwyn corrected, not noticing that she relaxed again. “His name is Gwirion. A really good man—and a born leader. Just the right person to save his people, I think.”

Her hazel eyes sparkled. “Like you.”

He blushed, shaking his head. “No, not like me.” Then, remembering what he’d wanted to say, he explained, “Gwirion told me something about the Lost City of Light—Dianarra, they called it long ago. He said there was a great library there, a place to hold books, and also maps.”

She caught her breath. “So if I can find that old library—”

“You could, maybe, find your way to the evil crystal.”

“You know, Tamwyn, you’re smarter than you think.”

He scoffed, releasing her hand to wave a knot of mist away from his nose. “If I were really smart, I’d know what those dark shapes are by now.”

“The ones we saw in the vision? Flowing out of the vanished constellation?”

“Not just out of the constellation, Elli. Out of the
stars.
Somehow they’re coming out of the stars themselves.”

Bewildered, she peered at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Listen,” he explained. “Right now, I’m almost up to the branches. And I’ve seen the stars—closer than ever before.” Anxious lines spread around his eyes like dark webs. “And Elli . . . I’ve discovered something. The seven stars of the Wizard’s Staff
are not completely dark.
”

“They’re not? But—we can’t see them anymore.”

“Not from the root-realms, true. But they’re still there, I’m sure of it. They’re just
blocked
somehow. Like some sort of doors have shut over them.”

Her expression turned still more dubious. “Doors?”

“I don’t know . . .” He shook himself, exasperated, sending the wisps of mist floating nearby into whorls and spins. “That’s just what it looked like, that’s all. Then I saw those shapes, darker than smoke, moving out of the thin rings of light where the stars used to be.”

She clucked at him. “If your doorways are closed, how can anything move out of them?”

All of a sudden, he slammed his fist hard into his palm. “That’s it, Elli!”

“That’s what?” she asked, her face a mask of puzzlement.

“The key to the stars!” He was so excited now, his whole body shook. “They really
are
doors. Don’t you see? But instead of being closed now, they’re opened!”

She stared at him, more puzzled than ever.

He took her hand again. “Listen. The stars
themselves
are doorways. Doorways of fire! Made of the brightest fire of all—pure light, almost. And they burn that strongly so they will always remain closed. Impassable. Unless, that is . . . one of the gods wanted to open them.”

“Like Rhita Gawr?”

“That’s right.”

“But where,” she pressed, “do those doorways lead?”

“To other realms. Other worlds.” He halted, realizing just what he was saying. “Other trees.”

Elli’s eyes widened. “The stars! So all the lights we see above us are really
paths to other worlds
—mortal Earth, the Otherworld of the gods, and more. So many more. Why, there are hundreds, no,
thousands
, of worlds out there.”

“The Thousand Groves! So that’s what it means.” He looked at her in wonder. “All these years I’ve wondered about the stars, what they really are—I’ve also wondered about that phrase.”

“Rhia said you’d understand its meaning someday, remember? When we were with her there in New Arbassa.”

“I remember,” he said dryly. “That was the time you almost murdered me.”

“Really?” She shrugged innocently. “There have been so many times like that, I don’t recall.”

He grinned, releasing her hand. “But now,” he continued, excited again, “we really
do
understand! That’s why Avalon is so important, Elli. This
is
the world in between. The world whose tree connects to all the other worlds, all the other trees, in the Thousand Groves.”

Slowly, she wrapped one of her curls around her finger. “Which is why Rhita Gawr wants to control Avalon. For if he can just do that, he can control all the rest of the worlds, as well.”

“Exactly. We are the bridge, the world in between—just as Lost Fincayra was in the days of Merlin.”

“But Tamwyn,” she asked, “if the stars are really doorways—doorways of fire, as you said—just
why
are they aflame? Why aren’t they simply left open, and unobstructed?”

He inhaled slowly. “Because, I think, Dagda and Lorilanda want one primary thing for each world—that it should be allowed to find its own way. Just as they want that for each creature, which is why we have free will. And if each world remains separate from the others, then it can create its own destiny.”

Grimly, Elli pondered his words. “So Rhita Gawr violated that principle by opening those doorways in the Wizard’s Staff. But why? Where do those doorways lead?”

“To the Otherworld of immortal spirits.” Tamwyn ground his teeth. “I’m sure of it! That’s a world so immense, with so many layers, it could have seven doorways. Normally, they are closed, dividing the spirit realm from ours. But no longer. That’s how Rhita Gawr came here, to Avalon. And those dark shapes—”

“Must be his warriors!” exclaimed Elli. “Terrible warriors, who will fight for Rhita Gawr whenever he calls them. Hordes of them, too—which is why he opened all the doors, not just one.”

They looked at each other, amid the rising vapors, hardly able to believe their own words. Finally, Tamwyn sighed and said, “Deathless warriors from the spirit world! No mortal army could ever defeat them. No wonder Rhita Gawr, in that vision, spoke of his
ultimate triumph
”

Just as glumly, Elli commented, “They must be starting to mass up there, just waiting for his command.”

“Which will come
when the great horse dies
.” Tamwyn ran a hand through his hair. “Trouble is, we haven’t any clue what that means.”

“We
do
know it’s going to happen soon,” she reminded him. “Rhita Gawr said, that night on Hallia’s Peak, that there were just a few weeks left. And that was two weeks ago. So we have—at most—one week left.”

“One week,” muttered Tamwyn, waving away some vapors in front of his face. “And then that horse will die. Along with the rest of us.”

He scowled in frustration. “But what horse is that? The same one my father wrote about—or a different one? And besides, the only horse I’ve seen on this quest isn’t really a horse at all.”

Curious, Elli moved a bit closer. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” he grumbled. “Just Pegasus. You know, the constellation. I was just looking at its central star, the one called the Heart of Pegasus . . . and Elli, it actually seemed to be
beating.
Why, I don’t know.”

“Beating?”

“Yes. Like a real h—” He caught himself. “Elli! If that star goes out—and the heart stops beating—then . . .”