The Eternal Flame by T. A. Barron Read Free Book Online Page B

could only barely perceive it, ran across the middle of the sky. Like a luminous crack, or a seam in the fabric of day, it ran through the realm of the stars.
    Tamwyn stared at the line of light, blinking. What was it? Maybe just a trick of the remaining wisps of mist. Yet it seemed more real than that. Perhaps it had always been there, but he needed to have climbed this high on the Great Tree before he could actually see it.
    Flipping fire dragons, what could that be?
    A dark shadow fell over him. At the same instant, he felt a powerful rush of two emotions—fear and rage. But the emotions weren’t his own. Tamwyn sensed, before he’d even turned around, that they were coming from whoever had cast the shadow.
    He spun around.
    Drumalings! Tall and treelike, two of the creatures towered over him, the barkless skin of their knobby, many-limbed bodies glinting in the starlight. Like the drumalings who had nearly killed him before, this pair had faces midway up their scraggly bodies. Each had a ragged slit for a mouth, as well as a lone, vertical eye almost as narrow as a twig.
    The unblinking eye of each drumaling stared down at Tamwyn. He held their gaze. As with the drumalings he’d met in Merlin’s Knothole, he sensed no thoughts from them—only simple, raw feelings. Right now he detected a steady undercurrent of anxiety, mixed with a hint of anger. Making no sudden movements, he quickly sheathed his dagger, stuffed the harmóna wood into his pack, and slipped the leather strap over his shoulder.
    At the very instant he finished, he sensed a new flood of wrath—and the drumalings charged. Swinging their long arms studded with thick tufts of grass, they surged through the bushes, slamming down their heavy roots. Just as Tamwyn fled, those roots smacked against the stream bank where he’d been sitting, spraying mud and wood chips everywhere.
    He bolted, leaping over the stream and hurdling the dense shrubbery on the other side. Hearing the crash of broken branches right behind him, he didn’t have to glance back to know that they were pursuing. Whether they considered him prey or a vile intruder, they clearly wanted to crush his every bone.
    He dashed through the waving grasses, which swished against his leggings. For a second he considered transforming himself into a bounding deer, as he’d done once to save Elli’s life. But he knew that wasn’t possible, even to save his own. The bulkiness of his load, especially the torch across his back, kept him from striding freely enough to release the magic. All he could do was sprint as best he could on two legs.
    They were gaining! Not far behind, the slamming of roots grew louder. Now he could hear the whoosh of air from the drumalings’ waving limbs, a sound that chilled him more than any winter wind.
    Spying one of the steaming pools of sap, he veered higher on the slope to run toward it. With the drumalings’ limbs practically brushing against the back of his neck, he took a desperate chance—and hurled himself straight over the bubbling pool. The smell of resins overwhelmed him, searing his throat and burning his eyes. He landed on the other side, barely clearing the rim of the pool, and rolled to a stop in the grass.
    Anxiously, he looked up, peering into the greenish steam over the pit. Had he lost them? Slow-witted creatures that they were, they might just think he’d vanished, and give up their chase. Or maybe they, too, had tried to jump, and fallen into the resiny cauldron.
    No such luck. He saw the pair of drumalings charging around the pit. On each of them, the lone eye had reddened with rage. Their roots slapped the pit’s edge, splattering hot sap onto the grass.
    Tamwyn leaped to his feet. How could he ever escape these vicious beasts? He glanced around, then spied the outcropping of stone where the strange, hunchbacked giants had been dancing. Seeing no sign of them, he realized that they must have left while he was working on the harp. He took off,