They nudged into the shore with the keel crunching on the coarse sand. The water was virtually still, but a sudden wave pushed the boat up and broached it sideways. They stepped out into the wash. There, higher up the beach, stood ranks of sprites, and among them hooded and cloaked glowing creatures.
"I said that she would come," said one of the fire-beings.
"Seize them," said the sprite.
"Hold!" shouted Ixion in a voice that carried out into the mist like a clarion. It was enough to give pause even the sprites and fire-beings. "The centaurs lie offshore within earshot, many thousands strong." He held up his horn. "If I sound this, they will come. With fire and axe, they will come. We know your strengths, but still they will come. And the commanders watch an hourglass. If I do not sound the right call on the horn on the hour, they will come. We expected your treachery. We will bring down the wind on your demon allies. They are not proof against us."
"And if you think that's all," said Meb, her voice grim, "try me." Finally, she'd had enough. "I can turn you to stone. Remember that. You offered a deal. Now take us to Finn. Then I'll stay as your captive or whatever. When you have let him go, safely. Not before."
The breeze stirred the mist around the tall, pale, tree-women. They stood still. Then one of the fire-beings—a taller, larger individual—said, "Let them have their way. For now."
Meb decided she'd trust him just as far as she could throw Groblek. He was going to try some form of spell or trickery on them. Well, she didn't know if it would work, but she tried to think of a shield over her and Ixion.
The sprites and the fire-beings formed up in a mass around them as they walked uphill.
"It appears that you have some of the very life stuff of smokeless fire about you," said the fire-being a little later.
"Oh yes," said Meb. They had lied to her, she'd lie straight back. "One of your kind tried to make me come to him. That's what could happen to you." The mist was thinning now and a stiff breeze was blowing. They'd come to an enormous rock that must have rolled down from the mountain eons ago. Just ahead a stream splashed in the valley.
It had been getting lighter as mist burned off.
Now it got much darker. Something enormous flapped at the last of mist. A dragon settled slowly down to land.
"Lord Vorlian. We are all gathered," said the demon. "Let us call a merrow and one of the dvergar."
"I'd be thinking there is no need for that," said 'Brys from the water. "And I'd guess the dvergar would be around here somewhere too. They have tunnels everywhere."
Meb looked at the huge dragon. "Are you Finn?"
"Finn?" asked the dragon, looking at her.
"Uh. Fionn."
Vorlian shook his great head. "No. But you are his companion. The one we seek to remake Tasmarin. Will you help us? Our world breaks. Only with a human mage can we remake it."
The fire-being nodded his flame. "This is our quest. To save the world. It is in great danger. One guardian tower has fallen. The others show cracks. We must act now. As soon as possible. With great urgency."
Meb had almost been swept up by the honest conviction in the dragon's voice until the fire-being spoke.
"There is the matter of the treasures," said the dragon.
"They can be restored as soon as it is done," said the fire-being. "There is no time. War, chaos and confusion spreads across the land." He pointed to a group of alvar standing under the trees—looking very much the worse for wear. "Here are alvar from Malarset. They brought word this morning of the blight that spreads. Let them tell you of the horror. It is a magical thing . . ."
"Show me Finn," said Meb interrupting.
"He is here. We had to ensure his cooperation . . ."
The fire-being had led her forward. There, under the edge of the rock was a stone slab. Some cords. A sleepy looking lizard, that scrambled away leaving only a twitching tail.
No Finn.
The sprites and the fire-beings were all as surprised as it was possible to be. More so than Meb, the truth be told.
Díleas barked. Jerked at the leash—one end of which slipped free. He ran through the sprites and up the edge of the earth-embedded side of the huge rock.
The rock grumbled and slowly sat down on the empty stone slab. The lizard scampered away.
Looking up, Meb saw her dog dancing around a black dragon, sitting next to an elderly black-haired dvergar. Motsognir.
"I smell right, I suppose," said the dragon in Finn's voice. "You should have known better than to leave me so close to a dvergar hole. And they too were watching this place."
Meb shrieked and ran, too. A sprite tried to stop her, only to get a slap that sent it, petrifying as it fell, to the ground. She hugged Finn's dragonish neck, tears running down her cheeks.
"Well," said the creature of smokeless flame. "How charming, if a little odd. Food that loves its devourer. Nonetheless, by agreement or by compulsion, the renewal must be done. We have the balance of power." He pointed upward. The last of the mist was burning off, and through it they could make out dragon shapes, circling. "And there is an emergency that must be dealt with. Malarset and many other lands are aflame."
"It was only Malarset," said Vorlian. "We could see most of Tasmarin from the conclave. It's a bunch of stupid and renegade dragons, humans, alvar and fire-beings. I'll want some explanation about that, Belet, because your kind will only act on orders. We've dealt with them. Fionn. You and I need to talk." He looked at the rest of the assembled species. "Although I have differences with some of my co-conspirators, I think we need to work together. Human mage, I beg your help. I never thought I would beg a human . . . but I love this place. It is a place of dragons . . . but we will change the way things are. And I will guarantee your safety and your freedom in exchange for your help."
"And he is an honorable dragon," said Fionn cheerfully. "And by the looks of it he has managed to unite most of dragonkind behind him."
Vorlian bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. I . . . was mistaken about you, Fionn. Misinformed."
"Indeed," said Fionn. "It's a pity that you are also misinformed about what the creatures of smokeless flame seek to do. The consequences of attempting to recreate the magics of this place without returning the tokens of trust—the treasures as you called them—to their own species—would be catastrophic for those species. Let me guess. You were at the conclave. Does the light at the entrance of the caverns still burn? The hellflame?"
"Uh. No. It is gone . . . I never had time to investigate," said Vorlian, taken aback.
"I would think that it has been transported to the fumaroles of the fire-beings," Finn sniggered. "And very happy they must be with it. Actually, Vorlian, that's what I've been up to the last while. You see, when I destroyed the first tower, I discovered that without those treasures the life forms and intelligent species of Tasmarin will die or be torn apart, and not return to their source. So my assistant and I have been working on returning them to their rightful owners. Speaking of which," he turned to Meb, "will you give the sprites back theirs? They're a painful and foolish bunch, but you have to save the bad with the good sometimes."
Meb nodded and took the stick out of her pack. A low moan went up from the sprites. She walked down from the rock with Finn. She reached out to hand it back to the nearest sprite. . . .
To have a fire-being seize it. The stick burst into flames. Meb nearly dropped it when a sudden spray of water from the stream put it out. It soaked her too, but that was the least of their problems. The sprites were shrieking in anguish.
"Treachery!" shouted Belet. "Quick, dragon. The human burned . . ." He was doused with a shower of water himself. He may have said some more, but it was lost in the steaming hiss.
It was not going to kill him, by the looks of it, but it certainly shut him up. "What nonsense you'd be speaking," said Hrodenynbrys. "It was you yourself that set it afire. The human has given us the Angmarad. And they returned the hammer to the dvergar."
"And the windsack to us," said Ixion.
"I've even returned the harp to Loftalvar," said Fionn.
The only sound that came from the sprites was a low wailing.
Meb, still full of fear and anger at the act of treachery by the fire-being Belet, looked at the piece of charred stick that remained. And felt the agony of the sprite. Wished desperately that she could make it right.
She nearly dropped the burned stick as it began to writhe and expand in her hand. She grabbed it with both hands to stop doing so . . . It was a stick again . . . only it was a green stick. With swelling buds. Motsognir pushed past her. Hauled out a small spade and dug a hole. "You can rely on the dvergar for digging. I think you should plant it."
Finn nodded his dragonish head. "Good advice."
So Meb did. It was quite a relief. It was growing as she did it so. Sprouting leaves already and roots writhing into the earth as she pushed soil onto them. The sprites were weeping. Touching each other. Staring at the sapling as if it was their one hope and delight.
"We should never have given him up," said one of the tree-women tremulously. "We thought he was gone. Lost forever. All we could ever have was the token. The memory." She turned to face Meb, dragging her eyes from the still-growing sapling with obvious difficulty. "Lyr is forever in your debt. That was human magic. Earth magic."
"Learn, Lyr," said Finn. "They can cut down and burn. But they can also make grow. They are not for your casual killing, or they can take that back."
"Fionn," said Vorlian. "Can you and I not get the last of the treasures, and then," he bowed to Meb, "With your help, renew this place? I must do this. I must even if I must fight and force you. And I have all of dragonkind with me."
"Let me explain why it should not be done," said Finn.
"It
must
be done," said Vorlian. Meb saw him drawing breath to call the circling dragons.
She called instead to the sea, her last hope.
And got, in an outrush of air, two gigantic figures. Groblek, with his fingers entwined with those of a tall woman with long wavy hair.
Groblek put a huge finger on top of Vorlian. "Shall I crush you, little dragon?" he said in a voice of thunder.
"Vorlian, just stay very still and behave yourself," said Finn. "Not even dragonkind can fight either the mountains or the sea, let alone both of them. I'd say you labor under a very powerful compulsion, my dragon friend," said Finn. "It takes the First themselves to compel me. But any two of the species can set a compulsion on most dragons."
A frightened looking alv scuttled forward. "It's true, Lord. The creatures of smokeless flame and the Lyr set it on him."
"Rennalinn," said Finn. "Why am I not surprised. What did they promise you? Speak up, and for that confession, we'll let you survive."
"Rule over the alvar," said the sprite. "And we release you, Vorlian. Our will is no longer part of binding you."
"I think you can let him go now, Groblek," said Finn. "Having a mountain hold you down is hard even on a dragon." Vorlian straightened a little and looked nervously up at the giant . . . but made no other move.
Finn continued. "Vorlian, I've told you and the others many times, that I am going to destroy Tasmarin. I never said why. I am a planomancer. It is my purpose to fix energy flows to keep worlds whole. It is because the energy of many worlds—and that is part of the magic—is trapped here, depriving them of most of their magic, making them more fragile. The pieces that are Tasmarin need to go back. If we take more, to repair the damage here . . . we will break more of them. And here? Water will rush in here, and new mountains will rise with massive volcanoes. It's unlikely anything—bar the fire-beings and possibly the merrows—would live through it, especially without the treasures. That was why the creatures of smokeless flame wanted the merrow treasure, and obstructed any efforts to return the rest. And now it is the fire-people—and the dragons—who are the only ones left without them."
"We have ours. It was returned to us by our hirelings," said Belet sullenly. "You have no lever over us."
Finn chuckled. "Oh yes, I do. You see, you sent them to fetch the flame from outside the conclave."
"Yes," said Belet. "It is safe in our keeping."
"Actually, it isn't. You see, I removed the original and put it safe in
my
keeping some centuries back. The object they stole was a gas-light," said Finn with a nasty grin. "Ask Motsognir here. I bought it from him."
The dvergar nodded. "Maybe five hundred years back."
Belet hissed and spluttered.
"I would check," said Finn. "But I think you're in for a nasty surprise."
Vorlian cleared his throat. "I know I am in a poor position to speak for anyone. I . . . I even knew about the compulsion of dragons. I just . . . I should have worked out I was compelled, but . . ."