Dark eyes roll back and Halley’s hands commence a
peculiar pattern of movement, as if they too are dancing. This isn’t pole
twisting, I sense; this is more like temple worship.
Winter murmurs, softly, “Please listen to her. This is
the Movement of Memory.”
It is not as if we have the power of speech anyway,
for we are all of us mesmerised by Halley’s flowing hands and sinuous body. She
is indeed a dancer.
Halley begins to speak in a hypnotic tone. “The Giants
laid down the great stones and carved upon them words of power. The Masons
settled rock upon rock upon these foundations, revelling in the perfection. The
Magicians created arches for ingress and spheres for light in the sheer
edifice, and were satisfied. The Mistress waved her wand and, lo, a star
appeared in the marvellous ceiling. The Artists played with gold and gems and
covered the very walls and floors with otherworldly ostentation. Many came to gawk,
it was that beautiful. The Master was displeased and sealed mighty Castle
Drakon for all time, to all outsiders.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand stiffly to
attention. Somewhere, perhaps in a dream, I have heard this before. I know this legend.
Fire spews and ice follows. The world Drakonis is near death
and all life has fled. Except for Brennan, the thief who hears mysterious
directions to Castle Drakon on the wind, and brothers Bastian and Cole, who
choose to follow her. Then there’s Halley, an exotic dancer from the burning
cities, and Audri, who refuses to speak.
No comments:
Post a Comment