The Ivory Star

Chapter 34

Dawn came reluctantly, as if dreading the coming day's events. The first silver rays of sunlight glanced from the lofty peaks of the Viderian Mountains, and Uhr raised his hands to the brightening sky. He was alone in the mountains, save for the violently quivering young girl who lay bound by human sinew on the ground several paces away. Her use would come later.

His work complete, he surveyed the results. During the night he had leveled the peak of an exceptionally tall, narrow stone projection, a task that would have taken a thousand men years. He had done it in a few hours, and of course he had only used up the lives of a hundred of his new Armondian slaves. Their remains lay below, far below down the side of the mountain where he had cast them. The flat top of the mountain was flawless black stone perhaps a hundred paces across. A waist-high altar of the mountain's stone, just large enough for a human body, stood directly in the center of the platform. The site was prepared. Now the spell must be readied for his ascension to godhood. He glanced at the cowering slave girl, and laughed, a dry, terrible sound.

From the plain leather satchel he slipped the Bloodstone. It pulsed with a dull, red glow. Uhr basked in its growing power. For centuries he had awaited this day. He was ready, ready for life, not this sickening half-existence, trapped in the shell of a hideous, rotting corpse. Only the total consumption of humanity, the blessed union of flesh, blood, and soul, had sustained him in his wretched existence for the last thousand years. On that last Great Conjunction, he had been given immortality, and power beyond his wildest imagining, but he had been robbed of his humanity. Now with another infusion of otherworldly power he would have his humanity back. The eternal exuberance of a youthful body, a body such as it had looked a thousand years ago. But now that form would be coupled with power such as he had only dreamed.

He wondered with smug amusement if he even remembered how to be human. Then he thought, no he wouldn't remember at all. He wouldn't even try. He would learn to be a god.

The Bloodstone would be of use one last time.

* * *

Angus quietly clothed himself, watching his beloved Nessa sleeping peacefully. So like a child in many ways, he thought, yet such a beautiful, wondrous, loving woman. He knew now that he loved her more than his own life, and he wanted to be gone before she awoke. He wanted her last memories of him to be of their love, not of his good-bye before he went to die. Silently he picked up his sword belt and chain mail shirt, wincing at the tell-tale jangle. Stealthily he opened the door and stepped into the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Who goes there?" came a deep voice, quiet in these last sleeping hours.

Angus tensed, knowing the voice well. He turned.

Valerion stepped into the light of the single hall lamp.

"It is only Angus MacTavish, my lord," Angus said, standing straight and tall. Valerion's fists clenched, and Angus braced himself for the coming storm.

To Angus's great surprise, he only said, "It seems you have a way with my daughters, Angus MacTavish." His lips were drawn into a tight line.

Angus stiffened. "I fully intend to ask you for her hand, should we, by fate's freak, live through this day."

Valerion nodded. "You don't surprise me. Under different circumstances, I would have sooner expected it." He paused. "It's good. She should love before she dies. I only wish ..." His voice trailed off.

"My lord?"

"If we somehow survive, I wish you only the greatest happiness. And I wish my own happiness still lived."