Angelaeon Circle 2 - Eye of the Sword by Henley Karyn

Author:Henley, Karyn [Henley, Karyn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307730152
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2012-03-13T05:00:00+00:00

Astride a gelding gifted him by Haden, Trevin raced Pym and his roan across the plain toward the foothills and Ledge Rock, reveling in the freedom of the ride. At the base of the granite hill, they dismounted and staked their horses.

Trevin led the climb to the ledge that looked toward the hilly horizon, where a golden shimmer brightened the sky momentarily, then faded.

“That’s the veil,” said Trevin.

“What is?” asked Pym.

Trevin tried to explain it.

“Might be like the ladder,” said Pym. “Clear as air to you, clear as mud to me.”

“Do you hear the hum?” asked Trevin.

“That I hear.” Pym angled his head. “I’d say the sound is behind us.”

Trevin looked uphill. A dark smudge streaked the ledge where he and Haden had killed the wolf dog. Beyond, atop the hill, stood a grove of trees. “Touching the sky,” he murmured.

He concentrated on the hum. When the breeze gusted, it grew louder. When the wind calmed and the tree branches stilled, so did the hum. He sprinted uphill.

The hum was now a clear melodic strain accompanied by a burbling sound. As the breeze nudged the treetops, Trevin followed the lonesome melody to a sweet-sap. Each branch cradled a bevy of doves, their coos rippling like water in a brook.

Then the ground trembled, and the doves rose from the tree, quibbling.

“The horses are spooked,” shouted Pym, scrambling downhill to secure them.

One shall shake, thought Trevin. He unsheathed the Seer’s Sword and thrust it out at an angle to reflect the tree. It took him a moment to see the mirror image of what he was looking for, but when he found it, he whooped. Nestled in the treetop was a harp. Only the wind strummed its strings.

But as the melody grew, so did the undercurrent in the ground. Trevin looked back at Pym, who held the horses’ reins with all his might, trying to soothe them. Trevin set his sword and scabbard aside and climbed into the quivering tree. Branches lashed at him. Twigs snagged his hair. Leaves whipped his face.

“Hold back, you unruly winds!” Trevin yelled.

Hold faaaaast, came Windweaver’s reply. I plaaaaay for yooooou.

“I see the harp,” Trevin called. “You can stop playing.”

The mournful melody continued.

Clinging to the trembling limbs, Trevin gradually gained height, but the higher he climbed, the more wildly the branches tossed. At last he reached the base of the harp. But as he locked his legs around the shuddering trunk and tried to dislodge the harp, the tree lurched with a loud crack and tipped sideways. Trevin wrapped his arms around the harp, clamping the strings to silence them.

“Peace!” he yelled as the tree tilted. “Peace!”

The wind calmed to a breeze, and the ground stopped shaking, leaving the tree bent at a steep angle.

You seeeee the harp’s miiiiight. Uuuuuse it wiiiiisely.

“I will,” Trevin muttered at the sky, although he suspected Windweaver had moved on and was already striding the cliffs of the Dregmoors. He flexed his fingers and carefully pried the harp from its resting place.

The climb down proved easier than the ascent.

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