Shadows on the Stars by T. A. Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

eagleman, he scratched at the wound with his sharply pointed toenails, trying desperately to remove the shard. But the blood flowed freely, more than his scratching alone should have caused.
    “Wait,” commanded Elli. “This will help.”
    She pulled out her water gourd and poured several drops onto the wound. As the magical liquid seeped in, Brionna stepped to her side. The two women traded a grim glance, each of them recalling the day when that same water had healed the elf maiden’s gashes—and saved her life.
    “Something’s wrong,” said Tamwyn anxiously. “The potion’s not working! “ He knelt and pressed his hand against his brother’s wound.
    Blood flowed more and more, seeping through Tamwyn’s fingers. It poured over Scree’s thigh, painting the snow dark red. The young eagleman slumped back on the snow.
    “Too much blood,” he said weakly. “Just a little thing . . . shouldn’t bleed like this.”
    “And shouldn’t keep bleeding,” added Elli, confused. “Not after the water.”
    Shim pushed his way through the snow, his face a mass of worried wrinkles. In his arms he carried Nuic, whose color had shifted to somber gray. The pinnacle sprite gazed down at Scree, then said, “This is evil, such as I haven’t seen since the War of Storms.”
    “Have you got any herbs that could help?” asked Elli.
    Nuic frowned. “No herbs can help with this. Nor any magic I know.”
    “What are we going to do?” cried Brionna, her hands twisting the end of her long braid. “He’ll bleed to death.”
    Elli turned to Tamwyn. “Your powers! Use them.”
    He didn’t answer. For he was already wrestling with the same idea—and with his own fears. If he tried to call on his new powers, and lost control, he could destroy Scree. But if he did nothing—
    He ground his teeth, thinking hard. All the other times he’d tried to direct those powers, to guide them with his thoughts, he’d failed. And he’d never dared to turn his powers on someone he knew and loved, someone he couldn’t even hope to think clearly about.
    Think clearly about . . .
    “Aaaagh,” Scree moaned painfully. He writhed on the snow, much as the unicorn had done just moments before. Elli touched his brow, her face contorted with fright.
    Think clearly . . .
    All at once, a new idea struck Tamwyn. Maybe thinking clearly wasn’t the point. Nor any kind of thinking! That could be just the wrong way to direct his magic. Maybe it had to be guided by something deeper than thought. Something not from his head, but from his heart.
    “Tamwyn!” shouted Elli. “He’s going to die.”
    “No,” he declared.
    Placing both his hands on Scree’s thigh, he did more than just press against the wound. He closed his eyes, searching within himself for his powers, and for whatever feelings could guide them. But the only feeling he sensed now was fear. He could kill Scree with just the slightest mistake! And he didn’t even know what powers he was looking for. All he knew was that now, for the very first time, he desperately wanted to find them.
    Come, my powers, he commanded. Grow strong! This time I really need you.
    But he felt nothing. Just the surging of Scree’s blood, running thick and warm through his fingers.
    He dug deeper into himself. Powers, whatever you are, help me! Now his strongest feeling was another kind of fear—for the life of his brother. And with it came an edge of panic, rising swiftly.
    But he could tell that this still wasn’t enough. He searched his feelings, hurrying through emotions like a man dashing blindly through a forest at night. Loyalty. Guilt. Sympathy. Sorrow.
    Nothing happened.
    Then, from somewhere far away it seemed, he heard another long, wrenching moan.
    Tamwyn’s eyes closed tighter, holding back his tears. He just couldn’t do it! Scree—his only brother, his only family—was dying. And it was Tamwyn’s fault. He could save him, even now, if only he knew how!
    His hands gripped the bloody flesh