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"That's it?" asked Tal. He couldn't believe it was so simple. "I'd teach you, if you want."

"No, that's not it!" Crow screamed. "We've got quite a few Sunstones hidden away. Once we know how to use them, the Fatalists will join us. We'll use the Sunstones to overcome the Spiritshadows who guard the most important Chosen while they're in

Aenir. Once we have the bodies as hostages we can tell the Chosen what to do."

"But what about Sushin and the veil?" said Tal. "Crow, our whole world is in danger! This isn't the time to fight amongst ourselves."

"It's never the time if you listen to the Chosen," Crow whispered, almost to himself. His knife flashed in his hand and then it was in the air, flying straight at Tal.

It struck the wall behind him in a shower of sparks. Instinctively, Tal fired back a Red Ray of Destruction.

Crow ducked as the ray cut across the stone above his head, sending chips flying. One cut the Freefolk boy across the face, leaving a trail of blood across his cheek.

Crow cried out and charged at Tal. At the same time, Adras leapt forward. He wasn't strong enough to do much, but he put out one puffy foot and Crow catapulted over it.

Unfortunately, he went straight into Tal.

The two boys rolled around on the ground, punching and kicking. Adras managed to get one shadow-arm around Crow's neck long enough to pull him off. As they split apart, Tal snatched the pouch that held the Red Keystone.

Adras couldn't hold Crow. He flung the Spiritshadow off and snatched up his knife.

The two boys faced each other across the room. Adras retreated to stand next to Tal.

"Don't make me hurt you anymore," said Crow. "Give me the Keystone."

"No," said Tal. He raised his Sunstone. It swirled with Orange light now, for Tal had a different plan. His anger had cooled. He didn't want to kill Crow. He would use Orange light to push the boy away.

Crow started to raise his knife. Tal prepared a massive blast.

For a long moment, there was the faint possibility that both of them would back down.

Then Tal heard voices coming up the stairs behind Crow. Freefolk voices. Crow must have arranged this place as a rendezvous, must have planned to backstab Tal.

Tal let the blast of Orange light go, aiming just above Crow's head.

Crow heard the voices, too, but the one his ears picked out was Tal's great-uncle Ebbitt. Ebbitt was a Chosen Adept, and his Spiritshadow was fierce and strong. He would take Tal's side, if he knew what was really going on.

Crow threw his knife.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Clovil was at the top of the stairs, with Ferek, Inkie, and Ebbitt close behind. Ebbitt saw Crow's back and he called out to him, just as the blast of orange light struck directly above them all.

The blast knocked the Freefolk boy back, but that wasn't all. At the same time it cracked the great beams of the roof and the lintel above the door. Rock shattered and began to pour down, at first in tiny pebbles, then quickly becoming a great cascade of crushing stones.

Tal saw it all happen. He saw Crow catapulted back into Clovil. He saw the other Freefolk look up in sudden fear as the roof caved in, and he heard his great-uncle's surprised shout.

"Back! Back for your lives!" Then the stairway was completely buried in a flood of falling stones. A huge piece of the ceiling fell in front of Tal, shattering into tiny pieces that flew up and cut his face and hands. More rock fell, and dust billowed out in huge clouds.

Despite the danger, Tal rushed forward. He concentrated on his Sunstone to make a Hand of Light to try and shift the great weight of stone.

But even as the Hand formed, a sudden, terrible whistle sounded above and in front of him. Instinctively, Tal ducked, a moment before a great gout of steam exploded out above his head.

The steam pipe had cracked! It was the huge riser that carried vast quantities of steam up from the lava-heated pools deep below.

Desperately Tal focused, to create the Hand before the super-hot steam found its way through the cracks.

The whistle grew even fiercer and more shrill as steam howled out under great pressure. The heat was unbearable, and Tal was forced to crawl back. He lost concentration, and the beginning of the Hand of Light winked out.

Pushed back by the steam, Tal had to retreat into the Underfolk's store. He couldn't see anything now. The room beyond was completely full of steam and dust. Deep inside the killing cloud Tal could hear rocks still falling, with a boom, that vibrated through the floor.

"Help!" Tal screamed. He didn't care who came. There had to be somebody who could so something. "Help!"

He tried to enter the room again, but was beaten back. Even at the edges the steam was too hot to bear. Further in, it would strip the flesh from bones.

Coughing, Tal retreated again and screamed once more for help.

But no help came. The Chosen were all in Aenir, and the Underfolk would not look in here until they were sure they were supposed to do so.

Tal couldn't do anything. Adras couldn't do anything. Tal couldn't believe what had happened.

He had probably killed

Crow, Clovil, Ferek, Inkieā€¦ and Great-Uncle Ebbitt.

All in one fatal second.

He hadn't meant to, but it had happened. Even if by some chance they had ducked the falling rock, they couldn't have lived through the explosion of steam.

Adras plucked at his sleeve.

Tal looked down and dumbly saw that Crow's knife was caught in a fold of cloth under his arm. It hadn't pierced the skin, but it had missed his heart by less than a handspan.

"What do we do now?" asked Adras, his voice small, not at all like a Storm Shepherd's. "I wish Odris was here."

Tal stared from side to side. He couldn't think. He didn't know what to do.


Tags: Garth Nix The Seventh Tower Fantasy