The Span by Diane Duane

Author:Diane Duane [Duane, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Goodreads: 25562389
Publisher: Diane Duane
Published: 1999-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

The next day she went up the pass road to do her heartwork, getting ready for that night’s wreaking.

Between those who shared, however casually, something passed which left each party forever changed. The vulnerable few seconds when one loved or both were lost in the ecstatic release of the body were also those during which that indefinable force passed free between the participants—tangling in a confusion of energies and chemistries, making lover and loved, however briefly, one being on various levels. That was the connection which Sirronde would be freezing in place, until the Shadow, deceived, reached into Adri’s body to take what He thought He had won. Once He had pulled the soul out of that body, the Shadow would have both fulfilled the bargain and lost what He had bargained for. Then, if she was quick and strong enough, Sirronde could push this particular incarnation of the Shadow straight out of physicality...for a while. That was all even the Goddess could manage. If I’m not quick enough, of course, He’ll probably leave the whole valley a pile of smoking rubble.

I’d better be quick.

The main problem remaining was that Sirronde did not know in what form It would attack if her first “push” failed. She spent the rest of the day constructing various offensive and defensive wreakings against the Shadow’s second attack: delicate prickly structures of words and intent, assembled in the dark place inside her where the Flame dwelt, ready to have a syllable or a structure of Fire inserted for quick activation. But she was all too aware that such general work tended to come apart under stress, and she would not be placing much reliance on them to do what needed doing. In the end, this would be a matter of will, speed, and sheer Power.

Sirronde came down the mountain at dinnertime, noticing the reflected scarlet glory of sunset on the snowy peaks behind her, but not able to summon much appreciation of it as she descended into the valley. The sound of song met her. Various of the people of Dalthant were singing and dancing in the street, so many of them that even the pigs had left because of the racket of bombards and curlhorns. Trying not to look too depressed, Sirronde went in to have dinner.

There was no sign of Dyla or Adri—apparently tonight they were keeping to the house where they had been put up, preparing for the next day’s formalities. This suited Sirronde. She spent the rest of the evening wheedling old stories of the Sender Valley out of the most ancient residents. The area was as haunted as mountains tended to be, with voices that screamed down the winds, hungry mantichores hunting on nights of no star or moon, various kinds of Fyrd and other “goblin” beasts, and endless other horrors and monsters bred out of the long winter nights. The mantichores were most on her mind. They were known to haunt high mountain places; if they had been here once, they could be here again, and the Shadow could use the memory of them.

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