your people will survive long enough for me to sip their lives away."
Aeriel bit her lip, panicked. She had to find a way to stop the Witch before Syllva and her followers reached the keep! Far below, Erin and Pendarlon paced, impatient for the barges. The dark islanders patrolled the thin, icy ledge, driving off the Witch's creatures that occasionally surfaced. Aeriel's thoughts spun. Even if she shouted from the tower, her voice would never be heard above the din of battle. And yet, she must warn them! She felt the warmth of the pearl upon her brow brighten suddenly. All at once, she remembered. Of course. She could speak to Erin through the burning sword.
Aeriel shut her eyes. Ignoring all distraction, she willed herself to make contact, to merge once more with the flame of the blade. A moment later she felt the familiar disorientation, sensed herself being drawn into the sword, her substance drained. Erin's face loomed before her, half an arm's reach away. She felt the motion of the dark girl's stride.
"Aeriel!" her friend gasped, halting. "Where are you?" she cried. "It's been nearly a daymonth—"
"Above you in the tower," Aeriel whispered urgently. "Listen! Fly for your lives. The castle's a trap!
Don't enter—"
An open-hand blow knocked her to the floor.
"Silence! Not another word, you stupid girl," Oriencor snarled.
Half-stunned, Aeriel moaned and blinked back tears. Her cheek stung, numb with cold. The bone of her jaw smarted. Her neck felt wrenched. The White Witch stood over her.
"Did you think I would let you alert them?" she grated. "You are here because it amuses me to let you watch. You will not be allowed to interfere."
Poised, Ravenna's daughter glared down, her green eyes merciless. In another moment, Aeriel was sure she would swoop and throttle her. Beyond her captor, the casement held nothing but distant darkangels and open sky—but through the pearl's link to the sword, Aeriel glimpsed the dark girl's startled look, then saw her turn, crying out to the approaching barges, gesturing them frantically away.
Aeriel fought to keep relief and triumph from lighting her face for the Witch to read.
"I will have my souls," Oriencor growled, plainly unaware of what was occurring below. "The very finest, the most alive, shall make me strong for my journey across heaven."
Aeriel felt the swordlink flicker. She let it die. It had achieved its end—and cost her much of her remaining strength.
"But they're dust," she protested weakly, drained. "The people of Oceanus died…"
The other laughed. "They would have died, long since, if they were mortal like you. But they are not.
They are Ancients, and live a very long time."
She still doesn't understand, Aeriel thought wearily, in wonder. She doesn't know about the plagues and the destruction. She thinks if she goes there, she will find all Oceanus alive. Then, If she knew— if I could show her— would she stop?
"All the Ancients of Oceanus perished," Aeriel managed, speaking as plainly as she knew how, "in a great war dozens of thousands of daymonths ago."
Ravenna's daughter laughed again. "Lies! My mother told you that. It's all nonsense. The Ancients are as gods, are gods. And soon I will join their ranks. I have proven myself their equal in sorcery. Soon I will claim the birthright of my Ancient blood and walk at last upon my mother's world."
"There's no one there!" Aeriel searched feverishly for a way to convince her. "Their chariots have long since stopped coming. They no longer speak across the Void."
The White Witch scoffed. "Tired of us. Tired of little minions, little golams, little living toys.
Weary—as I am weary—of all the lesser creatures of this world. Weary of you all! Do you think, once I am on Oceanus, that I will deign to return ever again to this place? That I will trouble myself to speak with any of you across the Void?"
"They're dead!" Aeriel insisted, despairing, realizing as she did that it was hopeless. No words she could speak would ever persuade Oriencor.
The bitter savor of the Witch's heart lingered even now upon her tongue. She would have spat, if it could have done any good, but the grains had long since dissolved. She could not get the taste out of her mouth. Ravenna's voice came back to her then, or perhaps it was the pearl's murmuring again: Crush the Witch's army. Destroy her darkangels—and without so much as a jolt of surprise, Aeriel understood why she must give the pearl to Ravenna's daughter.
The Ancient jewel enabled its bearer