The one with the axe bellowed, shoving Cywen to one side and swinging his axe above his head. Cywen flew through the air, hit the ground and rolled, coming up to stare back at the giant. She hadn’t seen Corban or her mam. Shield had, though. The stallion clattered over to Corban, swung his head into him and almost knocked him from his feet.
‘It’s good to see you too,’ Corban said, patting his neck.
‘Get the axe,’ Meical was yelling. ‘It will break the spell.’
One of Balur’s kin reached the axe-wielding giant – a female. She lifted a war-hammer to block the axe as it came swinging towards her head. Sparks exploded as the dark blade sliced through the thick handle, carrying on to crunch into the giant’s face and upper chest. She collapsed in a boneless heap, the axe-wielder ripping his weapon free, turning to face the next attacker.
It was Balur.
He ducked the axe, blades hissing over his head, slammed his hammer into the giant’s gut, doubling him over, then swung the hammer-head up, catching his foe full in the face. The blow lifted him from the ground, hurled him backwards, where he crashed to the ground and slid into the corpse of a wyrm. He did not move.
Balur rushed after him and grabbed the black axe, looking back to Meical.
‘Get it out of here, as far away as you can. That will break the spell.’
Balur didn’t need telling twice. He ran for the doorway, disappearing amongst those coming the other way.
Cywen jumped up and ran. Away from Corban, back towards the giant that had thrown her. She crouched down beside his still form, a hand reaching out to probe his neck.
She’s checking for a pulse.
Then Buddai and Storm reached her. Corban saw her throw her arms around Buddai, then tense as she saw Storm, her first reaction to leap backwards. Then she must have realized. She tentatively reached out to Storm, the wolven sniffing her hand, pushing close to lick her face and rub against her, knocking her over. Cywen leaped to her feet, looked around, and saw him and his mam.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
CYWEN
I must be dreaming.
Figures were pouring into the chamber, swift and silent, any sound of their movement masked by the throbbing hum emanating from the cauldron. At their head were a man and woman. She stared at them, knowing them instantly, despite the changes. Older, leaner, a grimness about them, in their eyes. And a joy as well.
Mam. Corban.
She felt her heart lurch, as if a fist had grabbed and twisted it.
Then she was running to them and they were together, the three of them, hugging, crying, no words, just a deep heart-swelling euphoria.
Her mam was holding her face, kissing her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she was saying, over and over again.
‘You left me,’ Cywen said, remembering in a flood how she’d woken up in Dun Carreg, finding herself alone and abandoned, and all she had been through since then. A swell of fresh emotion welled up in her. ‘You left me,’ she repeated.
‘We thought you were dead; we were told you were dead,’ her mam said. Corban just looked at her with his sad, tear-filled eyes.
‘Why are you here?’ Cywen asked then.
‘For you, Cy. We came to get you,’ Corban said.
She felt hot tears flood her eyes again at that and she hugged them both, so tight, squeezing as if she’d never let them go.
‘No!’ a voice screamed, shrill above the deep reverberations.
Cywen looked up and saw Calidus close to the cauldron. His eyes were wide, rage twisting his features.
Something was changing in the room; the throbbing hum was dying. The black lances of non-light were shrinking, folding back upon themselves towards the cloud above the cauldron. The cloud boiled, expanding then contracting, streaks of lightning sparking inside it. Then with an ear-splitting crack it burst apart, shreds of dark vapour exploding outwards, slamming those about it onto their backs. The constant droning hum was gone, replaced with a sudden silence, leaving an emptiness falling in its place. The sense of fear that she had felt earlier returned.
Something bad is about to happen.
‘We need to get out of here,’ Cywen said.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN
CORBAN
Corban gazed at Cywen’s face a moment longer, saw emotions sweeping her like ragged clouds across the moon.
We’ve done it. We’ve found you. It did not feel quite real.
Now we just have to get out of here. He looked away, saw that his friends and companions had formed a loose line before them. Gar was closest, Dath and Farrell and Coralen beside him.
Gar turned to Cywen and gently cupped her cheek, his smile gentle, surrounded by the dead.
‘Time to get you out of here,’ he said.
‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,’ Dath hissed.
‘Am I dreaming?’ Cywen said through a grin, tears staining her cheeks.
A noise from deeper in the chamber drew all their eyes.
‘It might be too late for leaving,’ Farrell said.
Figures were rising, pulling themselves upright: the Jehar, those closest to the cauldron first. There was something different about them. Though they stood the same height and build there was a presence about them, as if their frames were filled with a new power, greater than the eye could comprehend.
One turned to face Corban and he heard Gar whisper a name.