The Door into Shadow by Diane Duane Read Free Book Online

Sunspark came last, picking its way onto the mossy planks with the exaggerated delicacy of a cat. But it stood quite still in the midst of them as Herewiss and Freelorn poled the raft. No one broke the silence. Out on the water the feeling of being watched was stronger than ever.
    At last the raft grounded, scraping and crunching on a rough beach of pale pebbles. Herewiss stepped off, Freelorn behind him, and each of the others in turn. Everyone winced at the seeming loudness of their footsteps. Segnbora, second-to-last off, thought she had never heard anything so deafening as her light step on the gravel. Sunspark, behind her, got off and made no sound at all. It was carefully walking a handspan above the shore.
    They were not only watched, they were felt. There was no mistaking it. There was no threat in the sensation; the regard running through them was patient, passive. But whatever fueled it was immeasurably old, and huge. As the Power reached up into them, the others looked at one another, wondering, finding old companions suddenly somehow strange.
    Segnbora understood the sensation as most of her companions couldn’t. The Fire within her, dwindled to nearly nothing because of years of lack of focus, now suddenly leapt up as wildly within her as if a wind blew through her soul. The Power pushed at her, urging her toward the mountain. At the same time it looked through her at the others, and looked through them at her, determining what changes would be made—
    Oh Goddess, she thought, this is what I’ve needed. There was no mistaking the Source of what stirred here, though this half-slumbering immensity of calling Flame was only the least tithe of Her Power. And I’m terrified—
    Herewiss and Freelorn stood transfixed, keeping very close to each other. She couldn’t see their faces, but Freelorn had stopped nervously hugging himself for the first time since the morning. Khávrinen in its back-sheath was blue-white with Fire: its light shone through seams in its scabbard, and the hilt blazed like a torch. “There’s the trail,” Freelorn said quietly, looking upward.
    “ I’ll race you,” Segnbora said as quietly. She slipped past them and started climbing.
    The trail wasn’t too difficult. Part of it followed old gullies or slide-paths; part of it seemed to have been cut into the hillside, but only lightly, so that rockfall or deadwood frequently blocked the way. In the starlight it was hard to see where to put one’s feet. Each of them fell and slid at least once. By the time they reached the flattened hilltop five hundred feet above the lakeshore, they were all bruised, and breathing hard.
    But the gasping for breath didn’t last. It was replaced almost immediately by a sensation of being anchored, centered, secured past any dislodging. Freelorn and Herewiss stood as still as Segnbora, feeling their pulses become tranquil, their breath come more gently. The three of them stood poised at the apex of the world’s Heart. The Universe swung around them, slow and silent, waiting. After a few moments Segnbora sank to one knee, bending to touch the gullied ground with one hand, the ground where Raela and Efmaer and Béorgan had stood. She could feel the Power, bound, waiting, alive. Her own Fire strained downward to reach it, and, unfocused, could not. But that seemed unimportant as she knelt there, feeling the ages run through her. This place was more important than the needs of any one human being.
    “ Loved,” Freelorn said to Herewiss, his voice uncertain, “something’s strange inside me—”
    “ Of course there is.” Herewiss reached out to Freelorn and drew him close, not so much in compassion as in exultation. “It’s your Fire. You have a spark of it like everyone else; here at the heart of Fire, how could you not feel it? The Fane is reaching up to you.”
    “ I thought so.” Freelorn sounded almost in pain. “It wants me. But I don’t know what to do.”
    “ Listen to what it has to say