Above the Chimes, Og stood helplessly watching the storm progress. The song had not worked. No matter what he did, the ring-stones would not respond. And he knew why. He needed Riolla's pearl to ground them. With the increased energy the three of them could now produce, Og could not govern and direct their magic without the pearl of Nadrum.
/ have failed again. Riolla was right all along. I am just an"-old fool. Having trouble here?" A shrill laugh cut through the wind and Og turned to meet it. The Schreefa and her assassin stood behind him.
"Riolla! Oh, Riolla, what have you done?" he cried.
She set her jaw in contempt. "I'll bet those are the very same words you said when I left you," she shouted. "You haven't changed one bit, you raqa-spoiled howler. But I have. You are looking at the next queen of Sumifa. Get used to addressing me as Your Majesty. As soon as that door opens, I will be sole owner of all that has lain untouched and unclaimed for centuries!"
"What do you mean? Don't you know?" Og stared at her miserably. "Riolla, if I cannot unsing what you have put into motion, the Beast of the Hours will come crashing through that wall and destroy everything in its path. There will be no kingdom for you to rule! Riolla, you have unleashed a cockatrice! There is no treasure!" Og screamed at her.
"Oh, take your act back to the ores, Og. Any moment, I will be the richest woman in the world," she crowed.
Og could not remove his eyes from her for the time it took for his heart to beat three rimes. "I love you, Riolla. I always have. Give me back the pearl."
"Oh, please. You-" She stopped in midsentence, staring behind and above Og's shoulder, a smile forming on her face.
He turned to look as the first crack spread across the smooth surface of the crystal door. "Give me the pearl, Riolla, it's our only hope!"
Then he turned and began the song again, tears welling in his eyes. Riolla touched her disheveled curls with a graceful gesture, spun on her left foot to make a regal exit, and nearly fell into a bottomless abyss that opened up directly in front of her. Saelin was nowhere to be seen. All around them, the earth began to break apart, thundering into pieces and falling away in massive chunks from the mountainside. She realized that she and Og were trapped on a pinnacle of rock, and she fell to the ground as it began to shake violently under their feet, his song unable to reach the needed volume to stop the godscream. Still, Og stood bravely singing Claria's name over and over as the mountainside crumbled around him, bits of rock and huge pieces of sod bursting from its sides.
Through the sandstorm, through the wind-whipped forest, and now caught in the shifting, rock-strewn gorge, Womba struggled to climb up toward the light, clinging to the sheer walls of a newly opened ravine for all she was worth. Convinced that Og would never make it down from the rocks without her help, she set her massive jaw and dug into the earth in fierce determination to rescue him. Inch by painful inch, never sure which handhold would give from the slightest pressure, she pulled her considerable weight upward, panting and grunting, tears of pain streaming down her face. Her bone necklaces snagged on exposed rocks, dirt and debris showered onto her head and shoulders, and her wonderful ghomaskin dress hung in shreds. Still, she made her way ever upward toward Og.
The wrenching of the strata filled her ears with its roar until, ten feet before she would clear the edge of the ravine, light broke through, carrying with it the sound of Claria's name echoing all around her, in a hundred voices, all of them Og"s. Womba burst into fresh tears, felt herself falling back into the pit, her strength broken by the sound of her rival's name. But Og was still trapped. Womba beat down her rage and tears, promised herself the pleasure of carving the Sumifan woman's bones into ten thousand beads, and kept climbing.
With a bellow of triumph, she scrambled over the top of the pinnacle just at the exact moment the final crack shot across the gleaming face of the crystal door. Og didn't have time to move. He only saw Womba stand up and throw herself in front of him as a brilliant burst of light flashed when the full voice of the god-scream hit the crazed crystal, shattering it completely. As the beast opened his faceted ruby eyes, Womba caught the full force of his furious stare.
"Don't look at his eyes!" Og shrieked.
But Womba stood for a brief moment, a look of rapturous love on her face, and then dropped to the ground, her features seemingly carved in basalt, her body turned to stone. Stepping slowly out of the Collector's ancient prison, the beast lifted his iridescent wings, raised his head, and began to hiss and screech. The sound raked across Og's heart; it was a sound he knew he would never forget.
"By the cracked face of Caelus Nin!" shouted Riolla. "What is that?"
His eyes on Womba, Og quickly whipped his cloak over their heads and turned his back to the emerging beast.
"Don't look at his eyes! Whatever you do, don't look at his eyes!" he shouted in her ears. "Now do you believe me? Give me the pearl before I can't do anything about this."
Riolla whimpered, thinking of the lost treasure, her unpaid dues and the Raptor's wrath, of the horror that they could hear awakening behind them. She angrily ripped the pearl from her neck and handed it to Og, who clasped it firmly together with the other stones, the firebane positioned in the middle of the group. He began to sing, summoning the magic as he had done when his voice was perfect, when his heart was filled with love instead of pain.
And the magic came.
Above their heads, the rainbow light rose and wove itself into ribbons of gold, purple, blue, green, and bloodred, their streaming banners widening and widening until they blanketed the doorway, covering it in light, while the beast tore and clawed at them to no avail. The cockatrice raged and flapped its wings, but the more it struggled, the more the light entwined it, until at last it lay hissing and subdued behind the broken crystal. Og continued to sing, the beast fading with every note.
Below, sheltered in the first cave they had found, Cheyne and CI aria looked at one another in amazement. The wind had stopped. The only sound they heard was Og singing Claria's name, over and over, his voice pure and true.
21
Several miles away,beyong the curtain of light and the Sarrazan forest, atop his dangerously fragile perch in the pine tree, Rotapan turned his back to the gale and marked the passing of the godscream overhead, its noise blurring with that of the surging river. When the windstorm moved off toward the Borderlands, the waters became quiet, and he could not see his temple for some sort of rippling, shining curtain that seemed to hang before it in the sky. Rotapan stared at the barrier for a moment, not comprehending. His world had changed too much in the last few days. He wanted to go home, lick his wounds, and seek the counsel of Chelydrus.
And it seemed he could. The wind had cowed the wolf pup beside his dead master below. But in the length of time it took Rotapan to make that decision, the world changed again.
The strange curtain suddenly dropped, revealing his shining, broken temple for a split second before the waters from Drufalden's melting glacial kingdom, which had flooded the Silver Sea, came thundering down again, rushing instantly to the other side of the
dry seabed and over the gleaming bone pile, covering the temple to the last standing spire.
When the tidal surge receded, no trace remained that there had ever been a temple on the shores of the Silver Sea. Rotapan, his eyes tearless and dry, slid slowly down the rough tree trunk, walked out of the forest toward the high, deadly waters, and let the thrashing riptide take him. Before he fell into the airless tunnel of the cauldron, he thought he saw the scaled face of Chelydrus, laughing.