We have him. Miskyia’s voice rang in her head. After all these years I have you. Your tyranny is at an end, you shall dance to our tune now. Out in the firmament Lord Bethrayal howled in anger and fury as he felt his power draw away. We shall make the forest a haven for all that is good. The harvest of the blood gods will be swept away and the trees will be free from the plough. Yet, behind her voice, the old gods chuckled. Iwa could feel their presence slowly corrupting like a canker.
But you need not fear, Miskyia threw her own spell of protection over Iwa like a cloak. I will be here to guide you. Together we will save the forest, the clans shall live free.
Iwa could sense the magic, her own power growing, limitless. Already she only had to reach down and rid the forest of Krol Gawel and all the woyaks. Nobody can touch me, she thought, I can do anything. But deep within her a warning flashed.
Magic always betrays its caster. Katchka’s words came back to her. Nobody profits from the craft.
What are you doing? Miskyia screamed as the stones grated against each other, their fury barely contained. Suddenly Iwa understood. Bethrayal had been the greatest of mages, far more powerful than both her and Miskyia put together, and yet the stones had triumphed as they always would.
You fool, Miskyia’s voice screamed as Iwa turned her magic against the bridge that bound Lord Bethrayal to this world, you’re throwing it all away, everything we have worked for. We could do so much! Behind her words the stones cursed, their clamour rising so that Iwa thought her ears might bleed.
She might not be powerful, her craft nothing more than a leaf caught in a stream, but she was at that moment the bridge and it would only take the slightest shift for her to break the link. Still she could see the krol on his throne, the trees burned for fields of wheat and summer barley.
Your father! the stones cried out in anguish. She could see him forced to kneel before the krol. We could raise him up. He could rule by your side. The trees would be safe, even the Leszy will bow before your command.
No! Iwa summoned the last of her magic. The stones couldn’t be trusted. Even the terror of the krol wouldn’t be as cruel. At least with him there would be a chance. She couldn’t give the forest over to such a power. And for all his woyaks, Gawel was just one man. The clans could deal with him in time.
Desperately she tried to break the spells that bound her to the Lord Bethrayal. But they were too strong. She tried again, the spells singing angrily around her. They have imprisoned me! The stones have tricked me. And, over the roar of the spells, she heard them laugh.
She been too caught up with the visions of her father. She hadn’t noticed the spells curling around her, drawing her to them until she had no choice.
Did you ever think you could thwart us, insect? the voice of the stones crowed in her head. You could have been all-powerful. Now we will give you over to the Lord Bethrayal, your body will be nothing more than an extension of his will, nothing more than a corporeal expression of his power.
The spells shifted about her again.
You can’t, Miskyia cried out. You can’t imprison her as you have imprisoned me. I won’t allow it. But her spells were stillborn.
Did you think we did not know of your treachery? The power of the stones turned on Miskyia. The witch screamed as her spells shattered.
Iwa felt the grip of the stones hard about her, choking, twisting. Frantically she scrabbled to find some semblance of power. She had to break the link. But the song of the stones beat within her.
We have given you a chance at power, foolish wretch, you could have had it all.
And she was drowning, swamped by the power of Lord Bethrayal as it beat within her. Soon she would be gone. She felt herself slipping away, nothing more than a tiny fragment as he crossed the senseless void. Already he had begun to feel the world around him. He could almost taste the scent of the leaves, feel the warm glow of the rising sun. Ancient memories awoke and the earth boiled under his tread.
But then, amid the swirl of the craft and the chatter of spells, there was a light. She felt it dimly, someone was trying to free her.
If I cannot have this power… Wislaw’s voice rang out inside her head. Then his words were lost amid the roar of the craft that raged inside her. She felt his spells close about her, weak, dispirited things. And yet the power of the stones had been spread thin. Distracted by the witch, they hadn’t realised the danger until it was too late. Suddenly Iwa was free.
Break the bridge! Miskyia’s voice was faint now, little more than a gasp. We’ve all been used. But Iwa had no idea how to work the spells and the sorceress was too weak to help. Iwa stood stock still, her fingers tight over the totem as she fought for breath, her lips uttering a prayer to Karnobog in a desperate plea for guidance. And, somewhere out in the depths, she felt his answer.
No, the voice of Lord Bethrayal boomed, you cannot condemn me to the outer dark. Who are you to thwart my plans? Some child of the forest running shoeless and wild. You have a fraction of my power, a smattering of the craft, nothing more. Let me into this world and I could give you more than you could
