Orden recognized that he himself might hold the key to insuring that this great fiasco of a battle served some higher purpose. The men in the castle were joined in a serpent ring, and if the castle were overrun, the men in the ring would all be forced to fight, none drawing metabolism from the others. Eventually one of them would die, and a serpent would form. But who would be at its head?

Certainly not that idiot Dreis, Orden hoped.

No. It had to be Shostag. Formidable, venerable in his own crude way. A fierce warrior.

Orden crawled to the edge of the observatory, looked down.

The Eyes of Tor Loman perched on the edge of a promontory, and on the west edge, huge rocks thrust up from the ground. There, Orden thought. I will hit there.

He threw himself from the tower. It was time for the serpent ring to break. Now let Shostag the Axeman earn his lands and title. Let Gaborn live to inherit his birthright.

And let me return to the arms of the woman I love.

With so many endowments of metabolism, Orden seemed to fall slowly, almost as if he floated to his death.

53

THE FLUTTERING

A pillar of fire rose into the far-off skies like a mushroom, and the sound of thunder rumbled over the plain.

Yet Gaborn felt something far more disturbing—distantly, distantly he felt a single heartbeat flutter and fail.

It tore him, dismayed him, far more than that flash of light or the groaning of the earth.

He swayed in his saddle, whispered, “Father.”

Somehow, somehow Gaborn feared that his wish to strike at Raj Ahten had caused his father’s death.

It had not been the will of the earth to strike. Gaborn had felt no compulsion greater than his own anger. Yet he’d given the command.

No, Gaborn thought. I don’t believe it. I don’t believe I caused it. How can I know he’s dead until I’ve seen it?

The wizard Binnesman turned to Gaborn, infinite sadness in his eye, and whispered, “You called for your father. Is he gone, then?”

“I . . . don’t know,” Gaborn said.

“Use the Earth Sight. Is he gone?”

Gaborn felt inside himself, tried to reach out to his father, but could feel nothing. He nodded.

Binnesman whispered so that only Gaborn could hear. “So the mantle passes. Until now you have been but a prince. Now you must become a king in deed.”

Gaborn slumped forward in his saddle, sick to his heart. “What? What can I do? How can I stop this?” Gaborn asked. “If I am Earth King, what good can I do?”

“Much good. You can call the earth to your aid,” Binnesman said. “It can help protect you. Hide you. You only need to learn how to do so.”

“I want Raj Ahten dead,” Gaborn said blankly.