sure she used not a grain more than she had to. She left no gaps, and spilled nothing on the glowing stone.
Restoppering the flask, she returned it to its laedre, and shook the second, smaller flask.
"What's that?" Rod asked.
"Highcrag magic," she replied curtly, pulling its cork.
Rob rolled his eyes. Oh well, perhaps it was incredibly rude to ask such things in Falconfar...
Taeauna put a finger where the cork had been, upended the flask and then righted it again, held her wetted finger over the stone, and cautiously flicked some of the liquid on her fingertip onto the stone.
Nothing happened.
She waited. Still nothing.
"Safe to touch," she deemed, restowing the flask. "Pick it up."
He looked at her doubtfully, and she almost smiled. "It didn't spit sparks, so it won't do you harm," she explained. "Please pick it up. Touch nothing else."
Rod stepped closer, knelt down, and slowly reached out.
"Don't throw it anywhere, or drop it," the Aumrarr warned. "Just hold it, and in a moment or so I'll ask you to put it back down exactly as you found it, so remember how it was lying."
Rod touched the stone. It felt smooth, cold, and hard; just like a normal stone. He closed his fingers around its edges, still keeping his palm away from it, and lifted it straight up.
The rune flared up into blue-white fire, flooding past his fingers; Rod's hand trembled in a sudden stab of fear.
"Don't drop it!" Taeauna snapped. "Hold tight to it!"
Then suddenly, she was embracing him, her arm around him, bosom against him, and she was shaking, shuddering so hard he had to brace himself to stay upright.
"Put..." she whispered, her eyes flaring as blue as the edges of the glow that was now spilling from Rod's hand, the glow he could feel as a faint, thrilling tingling. "Put it back. Just as it was."
He did so, and the blue-white fire died in an instant, leaving the glowing rune on the stone.
"Rod Everlar," Taeauna whispered into his chest, as fervently as if his name was a prayer. She shuddered against him for several long moments more, and then said briskly, "We should leave this place now. Quickly."
She felt good against him. Emboldened a little, Rod dared to ask, "Are you going to tell me what this, holding the stone, was all about?"
Taeauna looked at him. "It proves you do have the power, here in Falconfar. If we can find the right place to free you, and unleash it."
Unleash it?
The Aumrarr slid deftly out from under his arm, rose, and said, "Let's get gone. I enjoy the smell of dead greatfangs no more than you do."
Rod turned and went.
They trudged down into Arbridge just as the sun was lowering, leaving the cold breezes of the hills behind them. Rod didn't have to do any acting to stagger like an old man unsteady on his feet, with knees and hips that hurt; they did hurt. He'd lost count of the number of times stones had rolled under his feet and he'd slid bruisingly into various rocks that thrust unfriendly sharp points and edges into the track they were following. A goat track, Taeauna had termed it, but it must have been made by goats about the size of house cats, if its narrowest places and crawl-holes were anything to go by.
Ahead of them, Arvale looked like a great green sward of farms and trees, with the glimmer of winding water at about its midpoint, and beyond it, a line of hills rose again, dark and terrible, as mountains; brown and purple and towering, like the spikes on the back of a sleeping, buried dragon.
Rod found himself nodding and smiling. Why, this would go great in a book.
"There'll be a guardpost," Taeauna murmured, as the rocks gave way to rock-clinging shrubs and creepers, and then to trees, and Arvale opened out green and dark before them. The light was fading fast. "Let me do the talking. You are old and tired, and uncertain of what to say."
"All true," Rod muttered back, and she gave him the briefest glint of a grin as she went on down the widening track, past places where other, larger
tracks
Restoppering the flask, she returned it to its laedre, and shook the second, smaller flask.
"What's that?" Rod asked.
"Highcrag magic," she replied curtly, pulling its cork.
Rob rolled his eyes. Oh well, perhaps it was incredibly rude to ask such things in Falconfar...
Taeauna put a finger where the cork had been, upended the flask and then righted it again, held her wetted finger over the stone, and cautiously flicked some of the liquid on her fingertip onto the stone.
Nothing happened.
She waited. Still nothing.
"Safe to touch," she deemed, restowing the flask. "Pick it up."
He looked at her doubtfully, and she almost smiled. "It didn't spit sparks, so it won't do you harm," she explained. "Please pick it up. Touch nothing else."
Rod stepped closer, knelt down, and slowly reached out.
"Don't throw it anywhere, or drop it," the Aumrarr warned. "Just hold it, and in a moment or so I'll ask you to put it back down exactly as you found it, so remember how it was lying."
Rod touched the stone. It felt smooth, cold, and hard; just like a normal stone. He closed his fingers around its edges, still keeping his palm away from it, and lifted it straight up.
The rune flared up into blue-white fire, flooding past his fingers; Rod's hand trembled in a sudden stab of fear.
"Don't drop it!" Taeauna snapped. "Hold tight to it!"
Then suddenly, she was embracing him, her arm around him, bosom against him, and she was shaking, shuddering so hard he had to brace himself to stay upright.
"Put..." she whispered, her eyes flaring as blue as the edges of the glow that was now spilling from Rod's hand, the glow he could feel as a faint, thrilling tingling. "Put it back. Just as it was."
He did so, and the blue-white fire died in an instant, leaving the glowing rune on the stone.
"Rod Everlar," Taeauna whispered into his chest, as fervently as if his name was a prayer. She shuddered against him for several long moments more, and then said briskly, "We should leave this place now. Quickly."
She felt good against him. Emboldened a little, Rod dared to ask, "Are you going to tell me what this, holding the stone, was all about?"
Taeauna looked at him. "It proves you do have the power, here in Falconfar. If we can find the right place to free you, and unleash it."
Unleash it?
The Aumrarr slid deftly out from under his arm, rose, and said, "Let's get gone. I enjoy the smell of dead greatfangs no more than you do."
Rod turned and went.
They trudged down into Arbridge just as the sun was lowering, leaving the cold breezes of the hills behind them. Rod didn't have to do any acting to stagger like an old man unsteady on his feet, with knees and hips that hurt; they did hurt. He'd lost count of the number of times stones had rolled under his feet and he'd slid bruisingly into various rocks that thrust unfriendly sharp points and edges into the track they were following. A goat track, Taeauna had termed it, but it must have been made by goats about the size of house cats, if its narrowest places and crawl-holes were anything to go by.
Ahead of them, Arvale looked like a great green sward of farms and trees, with the glimmer of winding water at about its midpoint, and beyond it, a line of hills rose again, dark and terrible, as mountains; brown and purple and towering, like the spikes on the back of a sleeping, buried dragon.
Rod found himself nodding and smiling. Why, this would go great in a book.
"There'll be a guardpost," Taeauna murmured, as the rocks gave way to rock-clinging shrubs and creepers, and then to trees, and Arvale opened out green and dark before them. The light was fading fast. "Let me do the talking. You are old and tired, and uncertain of what to say."
"All true," Rod muttered back, and she gave him the briefest glint of a grin as she went on down the widening track, past places where other, larger
tracks
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