Shadow on the Stones by Moyra Caldecott

Author:Moyra Caldecott [Caldecott, Moyra]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Mushroom eBooks
Published: 2006-11-22T05:00:00+00:00

‘Spirits of the realms deeper than man’s heart, rise to our aid.

‘Spirits of the realms higher than the Sun, visit us now at the time of our need.’

‘Enough!’ shrieked the priest of Groth regaining his strength. ‘You are faced with the greatest god the world has ever known and you blaspheme!’

Isar stood his ground watching impassively as the old man frothed and ranted.

He knew he would not be killed. They needed him.

Behind him there was a movement and a sound.

Groth’s beautiful, cold Queen, with all her entourage, was emerging from the palace. They seemed to glide across the forecourt with the rhythmic motions of a snake, and came to rest not far from him.

‘What is it you want of me lady,’ Isar said boldly, meeting her gaze.

She smiled, a small and ominous smile, and her eyes flicked over him like a whip.

‘Has my lord priest not told you?’

‘I am to carve something – but what it is I do not know.’

She looked at the old priest.

‘He is an old fool and not long for the world,’ she said icily.

Isar could see the fear in the old skull face, and felt almost pity for him.

Behind the Queen he sensed Lark’s presence, but dared not look at her.

‘Why,’ the lady Maeged said, jerking her long robes about her as she moved imperiously nearer to Isar, ‘you are to give our god his face. There is no greater honour than that!’

Isar was amazed.

He looked up at Groth’s faceless head.

Until now he had felt the vast statue’s presence and menace, but had not paid much attention to the details of its construction.

He studied it now with the eye of an artist, and noticed that, apart from its immense size, which was impressive enough, it was built with great skill. Trunks of trees, branches and twigs, were all woven in a way to give it bulk and solidity, the finer details supplied by woven straw.

He wondered why Na-Groth had not seen to the matter of the face before. There was no doubt that the right mask would add much to the image.

Maeged was standing before him, studying him, as he studied Groth.

‘You will do it,’ she said, ‘or you will die like the man who destroyed the last face.’

Isar looked his question, and shivered to see brooding pleasure in the Queen’s eyes.

‘It was in another country ... before we came to Klad,’ she said. ‘He was killed piece by piece ... by Groth himself. His face was the last to go.’

Isar felt ill and could not resist a quick look at Lark.

In meeting her eyes, he was filled with such strength and comfort, it was almost as though they were free and together again.

He forced himself to look away from her in case the fell Queen intercepted their communication.

‘You will do it?’ Maeged asked, but the tone of her voice was such that there was no question of his refusal.

‘I will do it,’ he said.

Her eyes flickered like those of a snake darting at its prey.

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