toppling into the void.
“No!” His scream turned into one single word, hurled like a challenge into the sky around him from the depths of his soul.
This was not happening! He was not falling! He focused his mind on that thought and held on to it, blocking out everything else.
He…was…not…falling…
And then, as if released from the terrible weight that was dragging him earthward…, he was not falling.
He was flying.
Soaring.
His outstretched arms felt the wind beneath them, holding them up. But they were not arms. They were wings. Feathered wings! Norl could feel each feather responding to currents of air that he could almost smell, so palpable were they. He felt the flow over every part of his body.
His body! Feathered as well. Glistening golden in the sunlight. Obedient to his slightest thought.
He banked, swooped down, then let the current carry him higher. Spiraling within it, he kept inside the boundaries of the rising whirlpool of air, circling up and up. He looked below him and could see to the very floor of the valley, every object sharp and distinct. He could see people moving around, see the frantic scurrying of small creatures in the fields so far below, terrorized by his shadow as it passed over them.
He was flying!
Exultant, for long moments he could make sense of nothing else, but then, suddenly, he saw a gash in the mountainside beside him. A dark, impenetrable rift in the rock itself. It drew him down, closer, and yet closer, as if something within were calling to him, ordering him to come to it, and he could not resist—could not disobey. The nearer he came, the greater was the pull. Just as he was about to descend into the shadow itself, a voice in his head shocked him back into awareness.
Flee, Norl! Get away!
Catryn’s voice. Panicked. Echoing painfully in his mind.
He gave a mighty beat of his wings that carried him out of range, just as a hiss of flame and fire shot out of the crevasse. Even so, he felt it singe the outermost feathers of one wing, a sharp stab of pain. For a moment he faltered, lost height, then he plummeted back down to the bushes below.
He landed hard. Eagle no longer, every bone in hisbody was shaken. For a moment he lay where he had fallen, his mind so full of confusion that he could not think. Gradually, his senses began to come back to him. He was on a small ledge just under the brink of the cliff from which he had fallen. He looked down and cowered against the mountainside in a momentary terror. The depths below him were dizzying. Then he realized that he clutched the trunk of the Deliverance tree!
He pulled himself up and with shaking hands filled the pouch at his waist with three of the fruit. Pain flared in one finger. He looked and saw that it was reddened and swollen. Burned.
“You were gone so long,” Hhana said when he had scrambled back up to the path. “We thought something had happened.”
Norl could not speak of what had transpired. Not yet.
“I found the tree,” he said, instead. He dug into his pouch and held out two of the fruit to the Sele and to Hhana, hiding the burned finger from them. “Eat. The fruit looks unappetizing, but it will satisfy your hunger as nothing else ever will.”
He thought Sele the Plump looked at him strangely, but the Sele said nothing, only accepted its fruit and bit into it. Hhana broke hers open and tasted it suspiciously.Suspicion gave way to surprise as she gulped the rest down.
“Truly,” she said, “this is a magical fruit!”
Norl ate his without even tasting the sweetness within. His mind was in turmoil. He had flown—but how nearly he had been lured into Caulda’s grasp. How close he had come to death.
No matter.
He would be more wary next time.
He would learn.
He had flown!
“He has flown!”
Catryn stormed into the Protector’s domain without any pretense of ceremony, robes flying and bright, fire-flamed hair streaming.
The Protector leaped to his feet, then grimaced with
“No!” His scream turned into one single word, hurled like a challenge into the sky around him from the depths of his soul.
This was not happening! He was not falling! He focused his mind on that thought and held on to it, blocking out everything else.
He…was…not…falling…
And then, as if released from the terrible weight that was dragging him earthward…, he was not falling.
He was flying.
Soaring.
His outstretched arms felt the wind beneath them, holding them up. But they were not arms. They were wings. Feathered wings! Norl could feel each feather responding to currents of air that he could almost smell, so palpable were they. He felt the flow over every part of his body.
His body! Feathered as well. Glistening golden in the sunlight. Obedient to his slightest thought.
He banked, swooped down, then let the current carry him higher. Spiraling within it, he kept inside the boundaries of the rising whirlpool of air, circling up and up. He looked below him and could see to the very floor of the valley, every object sharp and distinct. He could see people moving around, see the frantic scurrying of small creatures in the fields so far below, terrorized by his shadow as it passed over them.
He was flying!
Exultant, for long moments he could make sense of nothing else, but then, suddenly, he saw a gash in the mountainside beside him. A dark, impenetrable rift in the rock itself. It drew him down, closer, and yet closer, as if something within were calling to him, ordering him to come to it, and he could not resist—could not disobey. The nearer he came, the greater was the pull. Just as he was about to descend into the shadow itself, a voice in his head shocked him back into awareness.
Flee, Norl! Get away!
Catryn’s voice. Panicked. Echoing painfully in his mind.
He gave a mighty beat of his wings that carried him out of range, just as a hiss of flame and fire shot out of the crevasse. Even so, he felt it singe the outermost feathers of one wing, a sharp stab of pain. For a moment he faltered, lost height, then he plummeted back down to the bushes below.
He landed hard. Eagle no longer, every bone in hisbody was shaken. For a moment he lay where he had fallen, his mind so full of confusion that he could not think. Gradually, his senses began to come back to him. He was on a small ledge just under the brink of the cliff from which he had fallen. He looked down and cowered against the mountainside in a momentary terror. The depths below him were dizzying. Then he realized that he clutched the trunk of the Deliverance tree!
He pulled himself up and with shaking hands filled the pouch at his waist with three of the fruit. Pain flared in one finger. He looked and saw that it was reddened and swollen. Burned.
“You were gone so long,” Hhana said when he had scrambled back up to the path. “We thought something had happened.”
Norl could not speak of what had transpired. Not yet.
“I found the tree,” he said, instead. He dug into his pouch and held out two of the fruit to the Sele and to Hhana, hiding the burned finger from them. “Eat. The fruit looks unappetizing, but it will satisfy your hunger as nothing else ever will.”
He thought Sele the Plump looked at him strangely, but the Sele said nothing, only accepted its fruit and bit into it. Hhana broke hers open and tasted it suspiciously.Suspicion gave way to surprise as she gulped the rest down.
“Truly,” she said, “this is a magical fruit!”
Norl ate his without even tasting the sweetness within. His mind was in turmoil. He had flown—but how nearly he had been lured into Caulda’s grasp. How close he had come to death.
No matter.
He would be more wary next time.
He would learn.
He had flown!
“He has flown!”
Catryn stormed into the Protector’s domain without any pretense of ceremony, robes flying and bright, fire-flamed hair streaming.
The Protector leaped to his feet, then grimaced with
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