The Infinity Gate: Darkglass Mountain: Book Three - By Sara Douglass Page 0,165

Most had reverted to their usual Skraeling form from the gross monstrosities their association with the One had warped them into, but a few . . . a few seemed to have altered further yet. Their huge silver orbs had become much smaller and more elongated and were grey rather than silver, while both their clawed hands and their once-terrible fangs seemed almost mild in comparison to what once they had been.

One of their number, one who had undergone such change as to appear almost handsome, rather than repulsively ugly, stepped forward.

“Inardle,” he said, “we have come to meet you.”

Inardle stared, recognising the voice before she recognised the form. “Ozll,” she responded. After an awkward silence, she said, “You’ve changed.”

He frowned. “How so?”

“You are becoming beautiful.”

He stared, then seemed to dismiss the comment. “We have been coming to meet with you, Inardle.”

“So you said. Why did you want to —”

“You have been changed.”

Inardle stilled. She did not know how to respond, or how Ozll, or any other of the millions of Skraelings present, might feel about her now.

“We need to talk with you,” Ozll said, and Inardle nodded.

“Shall we sit?” she said, folding herself cross-legged to the ground.

Ozll stepped forward, sitting down before her, and the mass of Skraelings swarmed about them, surrounding them completely, before settling to the ground themselves.

“You have been changed,” Ozll said once again. “We want to know what happened. How it felt. What it has done to you. We are curious.”

“First,” Inardle said, “let me show you.” She stood, stretched her arms up above her head, looking skyward . . . from the tips of her fingers and progressively down her body she turned into a beautiful column of green water. She had a basic form of arms, head and body, but the only clear, visible facial features were her eyes. Everything else was . . . liquid, virtually formless.

The Skraelings gasped and hissed, then murmured in a swell of sound as Inardle returned to her Lealfast form and sat once more.

“You are River Angel,” Ozll said, his voice soft.

“When I wish,” Inardle said.

“Tell us how you drowned,” Ozll said. “Did it hurt? Were you scared of the water?”

“I was not killed by water,” Inardle said, “but rather by Axis’ blade when he tore my living heart from my breast.”

The Skraelings had been fascinated by Inardle before this statement. Now they were spellbound.

Inardle explained how she and Axis had been trapped in the ice hex constructed by Eleanon, and how the only way for him to get her out was to murder her, then drag her back to the waters surrounding Elcho Falling.

“He bathed my torn, cold corpse in the lake of Elcho Falling,” she said, “knowing the properties it contained for one with blood such as mine, and from the sky he commanded down an eagle who bore my heart back into my breast. It was .” she paused, remembering, “such power as you cannot imagine. Terrible. Painful. Beyond any words of mine to describe. But, in coming back to life, I was reborn with my River Angel potential awoken within me.”

“So,” Ozll said, “this is not something the mass of Lealfast could do? Jump into the waters of Elcho Falling and . . . transform?”

“No,” said Inardle. “I don’t think so. It was a combination of Axis’ magic and my blood that worked my transformation.”

All the Skraelings relaxed, many smiling, and Inardle realised they’d been worried that the Lealfast, too, might transform into River Angels. “You knew I’d changed,” she said.

“Yes,” Ozll replied. “Thus we came to find you. Inardle, we need to know, what have you become now you are a River Angel?”

Inardle frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Inardle, have you murdered since you were reborn?”

Inardle didn’t know what to say. “Um . . . yes . . . several Lealfast. They attacked myself and Axis, and so I was forced to —”

She stopped, shocked by the look in the Skraelings’ eyes.

They looked sad, almost as if they were disappointed in her, and it was such a strange expression for them to assume that Inardle simply didn’t know what to think.

“You have killed,” Ozll said. “Did you assume the form of a River Angel to kill?”

“Yes,” Inardle whispered.

“Thank you, Inardle,” Ozll said, rising, and bringing to their feet the assembled millions of Skraelings with him. “That was what we needed to know.”

He began to turn, and Inardle called out to him, holding out a hand.

“Wait! Ozll, I — all at Elcho Falling