ZIHAEN, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 2

CHAPTER 22 - OWAN ABAI (Part 1)

After the morning meal, Bo began collecting stones. The others watched him kneeling at Ruchelle's body and arranging stone after stone carefully over her. Without saying anything, they went to help him, and after a morning of work the grave was ready. Then they left Bo alone and went away to clean up. After a while, Bo rejoined them and that was that.

'Now that damned tower,' Ghyll said that afternoon.

'What do you want done with it?' Torril said, staring narrow-eyed at the towering ziggurat. 'We won't break it down in a hurry.'

'We don't need to,' Bo said. 'We'll wreck the inside, so that no one will ever use it again.'

They went down into the temple. Torril grunted. He tore off a piece of the wooden doorframe and snapped it in two with his booted foot. Then he inspected the two halves and nodded thoughtfully. The one he gave to Anliin and the other he waved around a few times.

'Tell us what you want smashed.'

Ghyll looked aside at Bo. 'Is there anything we should keep?'

The firemage shook his head slowly. 'Only the books and I'll take these myself,' he said. 'The rest can go.' He lifted two thick folios off the table and left.

'You heard him,' Ghyll said to Torril and Anliin. 'But watch out for broken glass.' The boys nodded grimly and a moment later, they burst loose in an orgy of destruction. Tables and chairs, glass balls and retorts, instruments they had no name for, all was thoroughly shattered. When Bo came back an hour later, there was little left of the tower's interior.

'Well done, boys,' he said. 'Time for the last act. Come outside.' He followed them up the ladder and stood on the top rung.

'Let's see how much power I have,' Bo murmured. He raised his hands above his head and started kneading the air as if it were a ball of dough. Slowly a living mass of flames grew between his palms. Little tentacles of fire escaped from between his fingers and played over his arms. Finally, unaware of the fascination with which the two boys looked at the pulsating flames, he bent his arms back and threw the burning ball downward into the tower. Immediately he jumped back, and a high pillar of fire shot up in the air. Torril and Anliin screamed, but there was no need. The fiery pillar remained standing for a few moments, then fell back into the stairwell. A dark plume of ashes and debris rose up to the clouds. Fortunately, there was no wind, so the hot powder rained back over the tower and not onto their camp.

Speckled gray, Bo descended the ziggurat and walked to the tents.

'Masterly, magister,' Ghyll said with a grin.

Bo smiled slightly. 'It still works,' was all he said.

Avelore sat up from where she was resting and said, 'Thank you, Bo.'

The firemage avoided her gaze, but he nodded.

The rest of that day they rested. Everyone was tired, physically, but most of all emotionally. When the stars came out, they found the Companions all in bed.

Vasthul sat on the makeshift litter in the shadow of the cliff. Walking was hardly possible anymore. All his joints ached. He was covered in red spots and his hair fell out whole strands at a time. His undead were tireless and carried him day and night, covering the distance to the Kairander Gap in a week. This mountain pass was the third battlefield, where the rebel armies of Wichit'hai had been obliterated by the Princely troops of Abarran. With luck, he would be able to grow his army to ten thousand here.

He felt the shivers rise again, but this time they were different. The wasteland, the rocks, the world around him narrowed to a bright white bright spot, his body tensed and he whimpered. He was vaguely aware that he had fallen from the litter to the ground, but he had lost all control. The seizure lasted and lasted and suddenly everything went black.