imagine the roof collapsing. The rocks will tumble down and bounce and roll and pile up on top of each other. There’ll be a lot of noise. A great cloud of dust and a strong wind will come rushing out of the cave mouth. The ridge-line above the cave will sag as the roof of the cavern collapses, and there’ll probably be avalanches. Don’t let any of that distract you. Keep the images firmly in your mind.’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than an ordinary spell, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. This is not, strictly speaking, a spell, though. You’ll be unleashing elemental magic. Concentrate, Sparhawk. The more detailed you make the image, the more powerfully Bhelliom will respond. When you’ve got it firmly in your mind, tell the jewel to make it happen.’
‘Do I have to speak to it in Ghwerig’s language?’
‘I’m not sure. Try Elene first. If that doesn’t work, we’ll fall back on Troll.’
Sparhawk remembered the mouth of the cave, the antechamber just inside, and the long, spiralling gallery leading down to Ghwerig’s treasure-cave. ‘Should I bring down the roof on that waterfall as well?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so. That river might come to the surface again somewhere downstream. If you dam it up, someone might notice that it’s not running any more and start investigating. Besides, that particular cavern is very special, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Let’s enclose it then and protect it forever.’
Sparhawk pictured the ceiling of the cave collapsing with a huge, grinding roar and a billowing cloud of rock dust. ‘What do I say?’ he asked.
‘Call it “Blue-Rose”. That’s what Ghwerig called it. It might recognize the name.’
‘Blue-Rose,’ Sparhawk said in a tone of command, ‘make the cave fall in.’
The Sapphire Rose went very dark, and angry red flashes appeared deep in its centre.
‘It’s fighting you,’ Sephrenia said. ‘This is the part I warned you about. The cave is the place where it was born, and it doesn’t want to destroy it. Force it, Sparhawk.’
‘Do it, Blue-Rose!’ Sparhawk barked, bending every ounce of his will on the jewel in his hands. Then he felt a surge of incredible power, and the sapphire seemed to throb in his hands. He felt a sudden wild exaltation as he unloosed the might of the stone. It was far beyond mere satisfaction. It verged almost on physical ecstasy.
There was a low, sullen rumbling from deep in the ground, and the earth shuddered. Rocks deep beneath them began to pop and crack as the earthquake shattered layer upon layer of subterranean rock. Far up the ravine, the rock face looming over the mouth of Ghwerig’s cave began to topple outward, then dropped straight down into the weedy basin as its base crumbled out from under it. The sound of the collapsing cliff was very loud even at this distance, and a vast cloud of dust boiled up from the rubble and then drifted off to the northeast as the prevailing wind that raked these mountains swept it away. Then, even as it had in the cave, something flickered at the edge of Sparhawk’s vision – something dark and filled with malevolent curiosity.
‘How do you feel?’ Sephrenia asked, her eyes intent.
‘A little strange,’ he admitted, ‘very strong for some reason.’
‘Keep your mind away from that. Concentrate on Aphrael instead. Don’t even think about Bhelliom until that feeling wears off. Get it out of sight again. Don’t look at it.’
Sparhawk tucked the sapphire back inside his tunic.
Kurik looked up the ravine towards the huge pile of rubble now filling the basin which had lain before the mouth of Ghwerig’s cave. ‘That all seems so final,’ he said regretfully.
‘It is,’ Sephrenia told him. ‘The cavern’s safe now. Let’s keep our minds on other things, gentlemen. Don’t dwell on what we’ve just done, or we might be tempted to undo it.’
Kurik squared his heavy shoulders and looked around. ‘I’ll get a fire going,’ he said. He walked back towards the mouth of the ravine to gather firewood while Sparhawk rummaged through the packs for cooking utensils and something suitable for supper. After they had eaten, they sat around the fire, their faces subdued.
‘What was it like, Sparhawk?’ Kurik asked, ‘using Bhelliom, I mean?’ He glanced at Sephrenia. ‘Is it all right to talk about it now?’
‘We’ll see. Go ahead, Sparhawk. Tell him.’
‘It was like nothing else I’ve ever experienced,’ the big knight replied. ‘I suddenly felt as if I were a hundred feet tall and that there was nothing in the world I couldn’t do. I even caught myself looking around for something else to use it for – a mountain to tear down, maybe.’
‘Sparhawk! Stop!’ Sephrenia told him sharply. ‘Bhelliom’s tampering with your thoughts. It’s trying to lure you into using it. Each time you do, its hold on you grows stronger. Think about something else.’
‘Like Aphrael?’ Kurik suggested, ‘or is she dangerous too?’
Sephrenia smiled. ‘Oh yes, very dangerous. She’ll capture your soul even faster than Bhelliom will.’
‘Your warning’s a little late, Sephrenia. I think she already has. I miss her, you know.’
‘You needn’t. She’s still with us.’
He looked around. ‘Where?’
‘In spirit, Kurik.’
‘That’s not exactly the same.’
‘Let’s do something about Bhelliom now,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Its grip is even more powerful than I’d imagined.’ She rose and went to the small pack that contained her personal belongings. She rummaged around in it and took out a canvas pouch, a large needle and a hank of red yarn. She took up the pouch and began to stitch a crimson design on it, a peculiarly asymmetrical design. Her face was intent in the ruddy firelight, and her lips moved constantly as she worked.
‘It doesn’t match, little mother,’ Sparhawk pointed out. ‘That side’s different from the other.’
‘It’s supposed to be. Please don’t talk to me just now, Sparhawk. I’m trying to concentrate.’ She continued her sewing for a time, then pinned her needle into her sleeve and held the pouch out to the fire. She spoke intently in Styric, and the fire rose and fell, dancing rhythmically to her words. Then the flame suddenly billowed out as if trying to fill the pouch. ‘Now, Sparhawk,’ she said, holding the pouch open. ‘Put Bhelliom in here. Be very firm. It’s probably going to try to fight you again.’
He was puzzled, but he reached inside his tunic, took the stone and tried to put it into the pouch. A screech of protest seemed to fill his ears, and the jewel actually grew hot in his hand. He felt as if he were trying to push the thing through solid rock, and his mind reeled, shrieking to him that what he was trying to do was impossible. He set his teeth together and shoved harder. With an almost audible wail, the Sapphire Rose slipped into the pouch, and Sephrenia pulled the drawstring tight. She tied the ends into an intricate knot then took her needle and wove red yarn through that knot. ‘There,’ she said, biting
