The Snowmelt River (The Three Powers) by Frank P. Ryan

Author:Frank P. Ryan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781623650490
Publisher: Jo Fletcher Books
Published: 2013-11-12T05:00:00+00:00

Alan knelt down by the smoldering remains of the dead Shee while Milish and Ainé stood back, repulsed by the sight and charnel stench of the brightly glowing corruption that still devoured her flesh.

He shook his head. “What I’m thinking is that, even if we don’t understand their weapon, maybe we can turn it against them.”

“How?”

Alan climbed back onto his feet, his eyes meeting those of the Kyra. “Can you find me a javelin—one with a good strong point?”

He was handed the javelin within moments and he spent a little while examining the tip. The head was made of no substance he was familiar with. It didn’t look like iron, or copper, or bronze. It might have been some kind of amalgam of a metal and crystal—he really had no idea. He closed his eyes, focusing on the point through the oraculum.

He felt his imagination expand, sensing an additional ingredient, a spiritual force within the point. He assumed that this was the force linked to the jade-green glow he had seen passing between the Shee earlier, a force that must have been put there by the Kyra. He didn’t need to remind himself of the urging of Granny Dew: not to question, but to see what needed to be done. He recalled the feeling he had had in the presence of the Preceptor, that had also felt like some kind of spiritual force, if one of a dark malignancy. What it all meant, he had no idea. Alan had begun to sweat with worry, and his voice was husky, knowing the risk of what he was proposing.

“I’m going to see if I can help you to penetrate the wall of force around their shields.”

In the dirt, he drew a dome, representing the shield wall. “Here,” he declared, jabbing his finger at the apex, “is its strongest point. But if I’m right, it could also be its greatest weakness. It’s a bit like a keystone in an arch.”

Under the horrified eyes of Milish and Ainé, he twisted the tip of the javelin in the putrefying flesh of the dead Shee. Probing it again through the vision of the oraculum, he sensed a darker spiritual force that now inhabited the head of the lance. Then he focused his mind onto the tip of the lance head, moving slowly backward along the spear, infusing into it every ounce of power he possessed.

But how could he be sure it wouldn’t harm Mo? He had to pretend to be more confident than he really was. He turned to Ainé. “Can you throw it so it strikes at the dead center of the dome? Then have your Shee ready for an immediate attack.”

A few minutes later, he watched as Ainé bent her gigantic frame, then cast the javelin. He heard the faint screeching sound as it arced through the air, striking the center of the dome of shields. He saw it explode on impact. A stellate web of brighter green spread over the shield wall. Then the Storm Wolves began to howl.

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