grip. For an instant, he struggled as mindlessly as had the chervine.
“No chance out there.” Rafe jabbed his thumb back at the avalanche and shouted over the racket. “Only hope—wait it out.”
Coryn’s eyes focused on the hillside beyond. There was no sign of the horses. Some of the hurtling stones were small as pebbles, others massive. If one of those struck him, or even the fist-sized stones, a lucky blow to temple or spine, a slip on the wet ground . . .
He shuddered, drew his knees up, and crossed his arms over his bent head. A moment later, he felt Rafe hunker down beside him, placing his body between Coryn and the hurtling stones.
Help . . . Help . . . ran through Coryn’s mind. The syllables pulsed in time with his racing heart. Without thinking, he reached for the pouch which held his starstone. His fingers pushed through the folds of silk to grasp the crystal. It warmed immediately under his touch.
Help . . . Help . . .
For an instant, Coryn thought he felt a response, but could not be sure. The uproar outside seemed to lessen. A short time later, he made out the sounds of individual stones from the differences in pitch.
He lifted his head. Rocks blocked three-quarters of the entrance. In the gloom outside, he saw that the rain had dropped to a drizzle, then a mist. For seconds at a time, no stones rushed past.
When several minutes had gone by in silence, Rafe straightened up, handed the chervine’s reins to Coryn, and clambered toward the opening. He had to push aside a heap of rocks in order to climb through. Widening the opening did not, however, bring any more light into the little cave.
Coryn crawled forward, enough to see that dusk had come upon them. A stray gust brushed his face with icy fingers. The temperature was falling fast.
Rafe came back a few minutes later. Even in the gathering darkness, Coryn felt him frown.
“Not good. Whole hillside’s slid down on us. No way around now. Take us hours just to climb out.” He reached for the saddlebags with their trail food and handed a packet to Coryn. “Stay here tonight.”
“The horses? Are they—”
Rafe shook his head, barely visible. “No sign.”
Dancer . . . And Rafe’s two mounts, innocent beasts they had ridden into danger. Coryn’s heart tightened into a knot of pain. They could have escaped, he told himself, but he did not believe it.
Although he was not hungry, Coryn managed to eat some jerked meat and fruit-nut bars, along with sips of water. His stomach tightened ominously, but eventually, his tired young body relaxed. He drifted into an unsettled dream of wandering naked across a sheet of ice under a featureless sky, of lying helpless while a shadowy cloaked figure drew near, of fire. Fire racing across the forested slopes, fire raining from the sky . . .
Fire lapped at him, strange blue flames. Shivering, he tried to avoid it, but as he moved away, the flames rose even higher, closer. Tongues of brightness consumed whatever they touched. From his outstretched fingers, the blue fire ran up his arm. The flesh of his hand crisped, leaving blackened, smoking bones.
“Help! Fire! Help me!” he shouted as he tried to smother the fire with his good hand. Instantly, it, too, caught fire.
The flames slowed their course as they worked their way inward, into one shoulder and deeper, toward the core of his body. He screamed in earnest now, his own terror crystallizing into sound. His cries reverberated in his skull. In the distance, someone called out a name which he vaguely recognized as his own. The more furiously he beat at the blue flames, the faster they burned. If he ran outside, the rain might quench them—
“Coryn! Coryn, lad, what is it? Be no fire here! No harm, see?” A shadowy figure reached for him, blurred fingers closing around his arms. His charred bones splintered under the pressure.
“No! No!” Coryn threw himself backward, desperate to break away. Horrified, he watched the blue fire creep up the
“No chance out there.” Rafe jabbed his thumb back at the avalanche and shouted over the racket. “Only hope—wait it out.”
Coryn’s eyes focused on the hillside beyond. There was no sign of the horses. Some of the hurtling stones were small as pebbles, others massive. If one of those struck him, or even the fist-sized stones, a lucky blow to temple or spine, a slip on the wet ground . . .
He shuddered, drew his knees up, and crossed his arms over his bent head. A moment later, he felt Rafe hunker down beside him, placing his body between Coryn and the hurtling stones.
Help . . . Help . . . ran through Coryn’s mind. The syllables pulsed in time with his racing heart. Without thinking, he reached for the pouch which held his starstone. His fingers pushed through the folds of silk to grasp the crystal. It warmed immediately under his touch.
Help . . . Help . . .
For an instant, Coryn thought he felt a response, but could not be sure. The uproar outside seemed to lessen. A short time later, he made out the sounds of individual stones from the differences in pitch.
He lifted his head. Rocks blocked three-quarters of the entrance. In the gloom outside, he saw that the rain had dropped to a drizzle, then a mist. For seconds at a time, no stones rushed past.
When several minutes had gone by in silence, Rafe straightened up, handed the chervine’s reins to Coryn, and clambered toward the opening. He had to push aside a heap of rocks in order to climb through. Widening the opening did not, however, bring any more light into the little cave.
Coryn crawled forward, enough to see that dusk had come upon them. A stray gust brushed his face with icy fingers. The temperature was falling fast.
Rafe came back a few minutes later. Even in the gathering darkness, Coryn felt him frown.
“Not good. Whole hillside’s slid down on us. No way around now. Take us hours just to climb out.” He reached for the saddlebags with their trail food and handed a packet to Coryn. “Stay here tonight.”
“The horses? Are they—”
Rafe shook his head, barely visible. “No sign.”
Dancer . . . And Rafe’s two mounts, innocent beasts they had ridden into danger. Coryn’s heart tightened into a knot of pain. They could have escaped, he told himself, but he did not believe it.
Although he was not hungry, Coryn managed to eat some jerked meat and fruit-nut bars, along with sips of water. His stomach tightened ominously, but eventually, his tired young body relaxed. He drifted into an unsettled dream of wandering naked across a sheet of ice under a featureless sky, of lying helpless while a shadowy cloaked figure drew near, of fire. Fire racing across the forested slopes, fire raining from the sky . . .
Fire lapped at him, strange blue flames. Shivering, he tried to avoid it, but as he moved away, the flames rose even higher, closer. Tongues of brightness consumed whatever they touched. From his outstretched fingers, the blue fire ran up his arm. The flesh of his hand crisped, leaving blackened, smoking bones.
“Help! Fire! Help me!” he shouted as he tried to smother the fire with his good hand. Instantly, it, too, caught fire.
The flames slowed their course as they worked their way inward, into one shoulder and deeper, toward the core of his body. He screamed in earnest now, his own terror crystallizing into sound. His cries reverberated in his skull. In the distance, someone called out a name which he vaguely recognized as his own. The more furiously he beat at the blue flames, the faster they burned. If he ran outside, the rain might quench them—
“Coryn! Coryn, lad, what is it? Be no fire here! No harm, see?” A shadowy figure reached for him, blurred fingers closing around his arms. His charred bones splintered under the pressure.
“No! No!” Coryn threw himself backward, desperate to break away. Horrified, he watched the blue fire creep up the
Similar Books
