Firestar by Anne Forbes Read Free Book Online Page A

Massive pillars cut from the mountain held aloft a cavern of roughly-cut walls and ceilings that boasted no decoration whatsoever. Its floor was covered in dust and the scatter of boulders in odd corners said little for their housekeeping. As for the giants themselves, he eyed them critically, for they talked in growling roars and, one way or another, were pretty uncouth.
    Cri’achan Mòr sat at one end of the hall on an immense throne hewn out of the side of the mountain itself and looked up as the prince materialized in the middle of his court. A huge giant stepped forward as Kalman appeared and recognizing him immediately, announced him in growling tones.
    â€œPrince Kalman Meriden of Ardray.”
    Cri’achan Mòr beckoned him forward and the other giants started to talk excitedly amongst themselves as they turned to view their unexpected visitor.
    â€œCri’achan Mòr!” Prince Kalman moved towards him and bowed low, trying not to wince at the growling, grunting roar of the giants’ voices.
    â€œAnd what brings you to Hell’s Glen, Prince Kalman?” asked the giant.
    No words of welcome, noted the prince, his senses alert — and not an altogether friendly tone of voice, either.
    The other giants in the cavern now moved towards him and despite himself, he found their behaviour unnerving although he knew that the great boulders they were rolling towards him were their equivalent of chairs. As they perched round him, their great legs the size of tree trunks and their eyeless faces gazing at him intently, he took a rather deeper breath than normal before starting his tale. He told them of the attack on himself and the witches and ended by asking if they, themselves, had gone through the same dreadful experience.
    The sudden silence that fell as he finished, spoke volumes. He kept his face impassive, however ,as he looked round the hall enquiringly. The Cri’achan looked at one another and then at him and said nothing. Kalman didn’t often feel fear but as the silence lengthened, the hair on the back of his neck rose as it dawned upon him that, whatever had happened, his friends, the Cri’achan, were friends no more.
    â€œHave you not been to Morven, Prince Kalman?” asked Cri’achan Mòr.
    Kalman frowned angrily. “You know perfectly well that I am banned from the mountain,” he said haughtily.
    Inside Cri’achan Mòr, Lord Jezail picked up on this interesting piece of information. So Prince Kalman had fallen out with the Lords of the North, had he? Even better! That made him vulnerable and alone.
    â€œThen you will not have heard of the attack on Firestar?”
    Kalman paled and his head jerked in shock. So
that
was what had happened. It hadn’t been a hex at all. It had been an attack on Firestar! Things were worse than he’d thought. Much worse.
    â€œFirestar,” he repeated, “then … then
you
must have felt the attack, too?”
    â€œWe did,” Cri’achan Mòr acknowledged, “but that is over now. For us, at least!” he added with a dreadful smile. The horrible roar of noise that greeted this remark was, the prince realized, the giants’ version of laughter.
    â€œWho attacked Firestar?” he persevered. “Do you know?”
    â€œOh yes, we know,” Cri’achan Mòr laughedaloud and the giants again joined in. “
We
know,” he leered slyly and his voice lowered, “but nobody else does.”
    â€œWon’t you tell me?”
    â€œShall I tell him, then?” Cri’achan Mòr asked, looking round at the assembled giants. “Shall I tell
Prince
Kalman?”
    Kalman caught the inflection on his name and clenching his fists, prepared for the worst.
    The giants gave a growling roar of triumph. The King of the Cri’achan leant forward triumphantly but it was Lord Jezail who spoke through him. “Listen carefully,
Prince
Kalman,” he said in the