Firestar by Anne Forbes Read Free Book Online

that it was now starting to pay dividends? A secret smile curved his thin lips. So far, Malfior had exceeded all his expectations and, by releasing the giants from the spell that had held them captive for centuries, he had shown the Cri’achan the awesome strength of his new power.
    Count Vassili saw his smile and although his face remained impassive, his thoughts were in turmoil . Lord Jezail, he knew, had great powers but the very thought of his interfering with Firestar had frightened the wits out of him. Indeed, when the force had hit him, the thought had crossed his mind that his master had managed to kill off the entire world of magic at a single stroke. Nevertheless, he had to admit, he seemed to have somehow pulled it off. Malfior was in place and it looked as though Lord Jezail would succeed in his plan to evict the Lords of the North and rule the world of magic from their glorious halls in Morven. He smiled a trifle ruefully, for, of the two, he’d far rather have the Lords of the North in power than his somewhat bizarre and eccentric master!
    â€œYou were right to complain to me,” Lord Jezail was saying to Cri’achan Mòr. “The Lords of theNorth were always an idle lot and, quite frankly, they haven’t done a proper job for centuries.”
    â€œThey’ve really let things slide,” agreed the giant.
    Lord Jezail nodded understandingly. “There are many others in the world of magic who feel the same as you do, Cri’achan Mòr,” he said, in a voice of deep respect, “the trolls, the efrites, the goblins, the people of the trees and the stones.”
    â€œAll we want are things to be as they used to be,” said the giant, emboldened by such praise. His voice deepened at the thought of times past when giants had walked the mountains and the people of the trees in the green wood had been worshipped. “We want to feel the old excitement again when humans feared us and made us offerings and sacrifices .”
    â€œAnd you will, Cri’achan Mòr,” Lord Jezail spoke dramatically. “One day soon, you will stand at my right hand in the Halls of Morven. Together we will rule!” His black eyes met those of Count Vassili sharply and recalling his part in such affairs of state, Vassili bowed in agreement. He knew quite well that once Morven was taken, his master would reverse the spell and send the giants back to their prison in Hell’s Glen. The very thought was ludicrous. Giants! In the elegant halls of Morven! No way!
    â€œPrince Kalman,” the giant growled, glancing at the crystal. “Look, he’s demerged from the stag. He’s going to hex himself inside the mountain.”
    â€œSo he is,” Lord Jezail muttered. “Well, well! This ought to be interesting!” He glanced quicklyat Vassily and as Cri’achan Mòr turned to enter his Great Hall to receive the prince, he stepped into his back, merging with him without the giant being aware of it.

    Demerging quietly from the stag, Prince Kalman calmed it gently and murmured the words of a hex that would keep it safe from the giants and ready for him should he have to leave the mountain in a hurry. As well might be the case, he thought, suddenly sombre; for the stone giants were no friends of the Lords of the North and only tolerated him because he had been cast out of Morven.
    His gaze, therefore, was frowning, thoughtful and decidedly worried as he turned to the barren slope beside him and, lifting his hands, muttered the words of a hex that transported him instantly into the caverns inside the mountain, the home of Cri’achan Mòr, King of the Stone Giants.
    There were caverns and caverns, thought Kalman, and this one bore little resemblance to either the elegance of the witches’ ice palace or the rich grandeur of the MacArthurs’ halls under Arthur’s Seat. By any standards it was pretty basic; giants being a fairly primitive lot.