Storm Rising

devicsse with a good trrranssslation and one with a half trrranssslation, need I sssuggessst which we usssse?'

Firesong rubbed eyes so tired and puffy they were mere slits. In the end, there was only one device they could use, and it was not their first or even second choice. Karal had spent the time making himself useful while the mages pondered translations and probed the devices with every tool available to them. Precious time was lost while they did so, but none of them were wasting any time either. They hardly slept, and ate only when Karal or Silverfox put food in their hands.

And in the end, the shaman himself used his powers, ill-suited as they were to such a task, attempting to help with a selection. His 'inspired guess' matched the choice of the mages.

'There's only one problem,' Firesong said glumly, eyeing the unprepossessing pyramid of silvered metal. 'This thing is going to kill whoever activates it. According to Treyvan's litany and what I've gleaned from the destruction information, the rest of us would be able to get far enough away to avoid incineration, but not the person setting it off. It can't be set off magically, we don't have anyone who can move things with his mind with us, and when it goes, not even Altra would be able to jump out in time. Assuming he had two hands with four fingers and a thumb each, which he doesn't.'

'Unlessss—' Treyvan prompted.

Firesong shrugged. 'I don't see where that could make a difference. The fatal flaw in this thing, and the reason Urtho never used it, is that there's spillover energy in the physical plane. Incandescent, white-hot spillover energy.'

Karal looked from one to the other. 'Unless what?' he prompted.

Firesong grimaced, and Treyvan answered. 'Unless the perrrssson trrrigerrring it isss a Mage-Channel. He might be able to channel the ssspilloverrr enerrrgy to the enerrrgyplanesss wherrre it isss sssupposssed to go.'

'Yes, well, there's just one little problem with that,' Firesong snapped. 'He stands even odds of getting burned out—if he succeeds—and he'll need to be completely shielded, and if he loses control, he'll still get killed along with whoever is shielding him! That assumes we had someone who was tough enough to—'

He stopped, suddenly realizing that Karal had gone white as snow, and An'desha, Florian, and Altra were all staring at him. The muscles in his throat tensed as he swallowed.

'I'm a channel,' he said, in a whisper.

Now Firesong stared at him, too, his mind whirling. 'You're a fool if you think you can do this,' he said harshly. 'If you thought the Iftel border was hard, it's nothing compared to channeling this thing! You're not trained, you can't even see mage-energy—

'But I am a channel,' the young man persisted, though he was still pale and drawn. 'And I've been told that channeling is instinctive, not learned.'

'You're going to kill yourself!' Firesong shouted, unable to bear the tension. 'You're out of your mind! We can't help you. You'd have to do this alone! The best we could do is shield you!'

'Is there any other choice?' Karal countered, looking each of them in the eyes. One by one, they each shook their heads. Finally, he came back to Firesong, who clenched his teeth angrily.

'Firesong—we all knew when we came here that we might not come back. We have all resolved in our own ways that we are willing to make sacrifices for even a chance of saving our homelands.' Karal's facial expression looked like that of a boy ready to cry, but in the way he held his chin up and back straight, he acted like a grown man facing a moment of truth. 'I know that if I have to give my life in this, I will be welcome in the Sunlord's arms.'

How dare the whelp put him in this position? How dare he volunteer to get himself turned to a cinder before Firesong had a chance to get his own feelings straight?

'Damn you—' he began, but Karal interrupted him with a wan smile.

'I don't think your curse is capable of overriding Vkandis' blessing, Hawkbrother,' he chided gently. 'But if there is no other choice, I suggest you take it back anyway. I'm going to need all the help I can get.'

'I take it back. But may all your children turn out like you!' Firesong exploded, unable to come up with a better 'curse' to vent his feelings. He turned violently away and escaped to the empty chamber to pace. His gut was a solid knot of tensions, his neck felt as stiff as old rawhide.

How can he do this? He's right, but how can he? This is insane! An'desha will never forgive me!

Soft footsteps at the entrance to the chamber warned him that he was not alone.