booksnew/source/test/c028.html

<p>CHAPTER 28</p><p>Inside the Black Barrow the darkness swallowed them; a darkness so deep and complete it felt like a
    physical substance.</p><p>They had seen it in the distance across the dry white land. The mound stood out like a
    malevolent toad, hunched on the flat.</p><p>They stared silently, each of them momentarily unwilling to take the
    first step. Pure evil radiated out from the dark bulk.</p><p>But they knew they had to go there.</p><p>Declan led
    the way into the wide basin, horse-hooves kicking up dust that clogged their throats. Nothing lived here; nothing
    they could see, nothing <em>normal.</em></p><p>The Black Barrow loomed ever larger. They felt the baleful pull of
    its power, and still they trudged on, hot, weary, thirsty and, as far as Jack and Kerry and the little leprechaun
    were concerned, very scared<em>.</em></p><p>Declan pulled up his horse. It pawed the ground. The animals too sensed
    the absolute wrongness of this place</p><p>“It’s old,” Declan said. He shivered. “And I don’t like it, I can tell
    you that.”</p><p>The stone was smooth from the abrasion of centuries, each one fitted tight to its neighbour as if
    to form an impenetrable barrier. Jack thought that was just what it was. The stone was a shell. A prison to keep
    something in. It cast a long shadow.</p><p>On its east side they found the broken masonry that had been chipped away
    by manic hands, and beyond the pile of rubble, a thin, man-sized hole.</p><p>The heart stone began to beat slowly
    against Jack’s breastbone.</p><p>“This was how he got in,” Corriwen said. “The Redthorn sword is here. I can sense
    it.”</p><p>Her face was pale under her copper hair, but her eyes were steady. Jack thought she was probably the
    bravest person he had ever met.</p><p>“Rest and take a drink,” Declan said. </p><p>They huddled together and drank
    from water-skins. The water was hot and tasted bitter, but it cleared the dust from their throats. Jack felt the
    pulse of the stone on its chain, as if that heart was afraid too. He drew out the Book of Ways and they clustered
    round.</p><p>“Maybe it’ll give us a clue,” he said. He laid it flat and they waited. The book shivered, as if it too
    felt danger. The pages riffled with a slight sigh and they all held their breath in anticipation.</p><p>At first
    nothing happened. Kerry looked at Jack. Corriwen kept her eyes fixed on the blank open page.</p><p>Then the page
    began to darken. But instead of the old script that had resolved itself onto the leaf before, it darkened like a
    cloud, swirling in slow spirals that deepened from a haze to grey. In mere moments, the page was completely and
    utterly black.</p><p>“Definitely not a good sign,” Kerry muttered. </p><p>The page turned, all by itself and the
    next one was black; dead black. Then the next and the next. It whirred faster and faster, showing them page after
    page, each one totally dark, devoid of any script. Just pure black. It reached the end and closed with a
    snap<em>.</em></p><p>“I think it’s telling us it’s going to be dark in there,” Kerry finally said. “That’s a fat lot
    of use.”</p><p>Beside them, the little leprechaun made a sound. They turned and saw it crouched on the ground, with
    its twiggy fingers stuck deep in the dry earth.</p><p>“Have to hurry,” it croaked. “Bad ground here. All dead. And
    the world shakes far away.”</p><p>“Someone will have to guard the horses,” Declan said. “But not me.” He looked at
    the narrow entrance. “I must enter with the Lady Corriwen.”</p><p>“I stay with the big hoofs,” the leprechaun said.
    “Dead for me in this place.”</p><p>Jack stood, tucked the book into the satchel. He touched the heartstone with his
    hand.</p><p>“He’s right,” he said. “The sooner we’re out of here the better.” Declan nodded agreement.</p><p>“Or we
    could just turn back and forget all this,” Kerry said. He caught Jack’s eye. “Only kidding. I wouldn’t miss all this
    fun for anything.”</p><p>Jack heard the slight quaver in his voice. Kerry winked. “Come on then. All for one and
    each for everybody else, right?”</p><p>Declan sparked a brushwood torch and Jack led the way forward, scraped
    through the Mandrake-sized opening and the cold dark wrapped itself around him with clammy hands. The hairs on the
    back of his neck hackled up as skeletal fingers seemed to trail up and down his spine.</p><p>“At least the book got
    it right,” Kerry whispered from just a step behind. His voice was oddly distorted. “It’s black as a yard up a
    chimney.”</p><p>Declan’s torch struggled against the unrelenting blackness. Its feeble flame guttered.</p><p>Jack
    touched the stone wall beside him. It was damp, not wet, but cold as ice. He snatched his fingers back. There was a
    scent on the thick air, as if some animal had crawled in and died, and apart from their muted footfalls, it was
    deathly silent.</p><p>They moved down a passage, almost blind in this awful darkness. It reminded Jack of the liquid
    night that had invaded the Major’s house. Kerry kept a hand on Jack’s shoulder and Corriwen held Kerry’s belt.
    Behind them Declan said nothing at all. They moved forward slowly. Jack counted the steps, twenty, thirty, sixty, a
    hundred.</p><p>Three hundred steps on, they came out of the passage and into a wider space. The torch flame was
    barely visible now. Jack’s eyes were wide open, but there was no adjusting to this dark. </p><p>“Where now?” Kerry
    asked. Shivers were running up and down Jack’s spine and he was glad none of them could see his face. Something
    waited ahead of them. He could feel its presence like an ache. And the heart felt it too. It was beating faster,
    stuttering against him.</p><p>Kerry reached a hand to feel for the wall. He gave a cry of horrified surprise and
    drew his fingers back quickly.</p><p>“Jack,” he whispered. He gripped Jack’s arm tight. “There’s a dead body here. I
    felt it.”</p><p>Declan pushed forward and held the torch up against the wall. It gave off just enough to show the
    skull set in a niche on the damp wall, eye sockets like holes to infinity. It wore ancient armour covered in mould,
    but still intact so that the skeleton stood upright. Its bony arm rocked from Kerry's touch.</p><p>“The Guardians,”
    Corriwen whispered. “The Bards set them here long ago. As part of their binding curse.”</p><p>Jack took a tentative
    step forward, sensing something ahead. He had to force his feet to move, for what he felt ahead of them was worse,
    infinitely worse, than the dark touch he had felt when they fell into this world.</p><p>Madness reigned here.</p><p>
    He could picture the dead heroes, strapped upright against the walls, swords gripped in hands of bone, standing
    guard for generations. </p><p>“Which way?” Kerry asked. His voice sounded small and distant. Jack cocked his
    head.</p><p>“This way, I think.”</p><p>“Jack? Jack?” Kerry sounded anxious. Jack heard the urgency in his voice and
    turned. Declan’s torch was just a pin-point in the profound black. It was further away than it should have been.</p>
<p>“You okay, Kerry?” The black swallowed his words. Kerry called out again, and it sounded as if he was far away. It
    was as if the very space had expanded between them.</p><p>“I can’t hear you,” Corriwen called faintly. “Are you
    there?” Her voice was barely a whisper, a cry in the distance. Jack turned, trying to get his bearings. Kerry’s call
    faded to silence. Jack called back and his own words were smothered and sucked into the dark. He closed his eyes,
    trying to project his thoughts and senses.</p><p>He called again, once, twice. There was no reply. He turned back,
    but the wall was not where he expected it to be. He felt as if he was in a vast chamber where there was no sound at
    all, save the beat of his own heart and the slow intake of his breath. </p><p>The heartstone beat in silence.</p><p>
    Jack realised with awful certainty, that he was alone.</p><p>***</p><p>Kerry called his name, but his cry was
    swallowed up. One minute Jack was beside him, close enough to hear his ragged breath. The next, he was gone. He
    turned to Corriwen, reached for her elbow, and found empty space. He made a circle with his fingers, called her
    name, called for Declan.</p><p>There was no response.</p><p>He drew his sword, feeling puny, straining to hear
    anything.</p><p>He called again for Jack and his words faded as soon as they were spoken. He held his breath,
    listened. And then he heard it. </p><p>The sound of running water.</p><p>***</p><p>There was no reply when Corriwen
    called out, no light of any kind. She felt her way forward, blade out, shuffling her feet in case there were any
    pitfalls or crevasses that might pitch her to who knows where.</p><p>Something stirred ahead of her and she
    paused.</p><p><em>Corriwen</em>.</p><p>A whisper, barely audible. She listened intently and after a few moments it
    came again. Her name whispered, no echoes, like a tickle in her mind.</p><p>She opened her eyes and for an instant
    thought she could see something, and took three steps forward, blade in hand.</p><p>“Jack?”</p><p>The whisper came
    again and a faint glow brightened as she moved towards it.</p><p>“You came back,” the whisper told her and her heart
    gave a sudden jolt. </p><p>“Dear Corriwen,” her brother’s voice spoke from the waxing glow. A shape moved within it,
    and despite herself, she stepped towards it.</p><p>Cerwin’s face resolved in the glow.</p><p>“Sister,” he said
    softly. “I knew you would come.”</p><p>“But how….?” Her voice faltered. His face came clear, shining in the
    surrounding dark, just as she remembered it. Not the face of a dead man slaughtered on a battlefield. Her brother’s
    red hair gleamed. His eyes were bright with life. There was no mark on his skin.</p><p>“I knew you would find a
    way,” he said. “To free me from this place.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” she finally said, voice cracking. </p><p>
    “He killed me, but I still live. She brought me here, but you can save me, make me whole again. I know where the
    sword is. Come with me.”</p><p>He reached a hand towards her. Corriwen felt his warmth on her skin and tears
    cascaded down her cheeks. Her brother was here. By whatever magic he was speaking to her, as alive as when she had
    seen him last, heading east for the battle with Mandrake.</p><p>Her heart jolted again. It wanted her to believe
    that Cerwin was alive.</p><p>Her heart wanted this, wanted it so badly it felt it would break. But something in her
    mind told her: <em>No.</em></p><p>“Follow me,” he said softly. “The sword will make me whole again.”</p><p>A wave of
    dizziness swept through her, and his face wavered in front of her. For a moment, it was as if the past had never
    happened, the great battle, the bloodied body, the traitor’s knife. They all drained out of her mind as she felt
    cocooned in the warmth of his love.</p><p>An image of Jack Flint came to her, calling her name from a distance.</p>
<p>“Corriwen. <em>Corriwen Redthorn</em>!”</p><p>Jack Flint? Jack who? Did she know someone…?</p><p>She could not
    remember. Her brother’s love enveloped her and she leant into him as he bent to kiss her cheek, the way he had done
    when she had fallen as a child and he would pick her up and dust her down.</p><p>“Corriwen Firebird.” He whispered.
    The name he had called her as a child. His voice was soft, gentle, the way it had always been.</p><p>“Corriwen, come
    with me.” He spoke urgently now.</p><p>She shuddered. Something was badly wrong with this. </p><p>“Don’t wait,” he
    whispered. “Come to me.”</p><p>Underneath the soft words, she heard the scrape of something dry and old. Her brother
    reached for her, opened his arms to welcome her.</p><p>“Little Corrie, come now!”</p><p>She took a step forward, and
    the smell of putrefaction came thick on the damp air. </p><p>A voice called her from far away.</p><p>
    “<em>Corriwen!</em>” </p><p>Jack who?</p><p>Cerwin reached for her then, and as he reached, his hands changed. They
    twisted and lengthened. His eyes shrank back into sockets deep as pits. </p><p>He smiled a nightmare smile.</p><p>
    “Corrie,” he croaked, and as he reached, she knew this was not her brother, for Cerwin was long dead.</p><p>She felt
    a scream swell inside her, but her throat locked and nothing, not a sound, would come out.</p><p>***</p><p>Far away,
    Kerry heard the sound of running water, rushing water, but he couldn’t tell which direction.</p><p>Now he too heard
    voices whispering. They held no warmth; no life.</p><p>He strained to see, hairs crawling on his neck, as little by
    little the voices became louder. An eerie glow began to spread around him and he turned, very slowly, heart
    hammering.</p><p>The dead Guardian turned its bony head towards him. Beside it another one scraped against the wall,
    making a dull clink of old armour. </p><p>Dead men were all around him. He could hear the twist and grind as their
    bones moved, the squeal of rusting armour. </p><p>“Outworlder,” it grated. “No business here.”</p><p>Kerry raised
    his sword. It felt small and useless in his hands. The corpses were all staring, all starting to move. Skeletal
    hands gripped sword-hilts.</p><p>“We have waited long for you, tasty boy. We hunger here in the dark. We hunger for
    flesh. We thirst for blood.”</p><p>“Aye, <em>that’ll</em> be shining bright,” Kerry heard himself say.</p><p>The
    dead men began to push themselves from the walls towards him.</p><p>***</p><p>Declan’s torch had died. He stood
    still, trying to sense any bearings.</p><p>Then, suddenly, he smelt flowers, sweet honeysuckle and wild lily. He
    closed his eyes and breathed, drawing in the perfume. It was warm and musky; the scent of summer. He felt himself
    drift on it. He had travelled long and far in these terrible times and now he felt the ache and exhaustion overtake
    him. He breathed in again and suffused with the heady scent, felt himself drift away…</p><p>…and wake beside a clear
    stream. </p><p>It was dusk here and she was beside him. He remembered how they had stolen down to the sparkling
    water. His wife’s hair was long and wild and her face turned towards him.</p><p>“You slept long,” she sighed. “I
    watched you sleep.”</p><p>She had always watched him sleep. The way he had watched her. His heart leapt with the
    sheer love of her.</p><p>“You dreamed,” she soothed.</p><p>“I dreamed….?” He began. “Yes. Yes. I dreamed you
    were…you were gone.”</p><p>“Not gone,” she said, voice like a song. “Yours forever more.”</p><p>“But you died.” He
    began to say. “The Scree…” He paused, dizzy with confusion and longing. His heart ached real pain.</p><p>Had he
    dreamt? Had it all been an awful vision?”</p><p>She drew a cool smooth hand across his brow.</p><p>“Gone? What
    nonsense you speak. I would never leave you, dear heart.”</p><p>She held a posy of blossom. “See. I gathered more
    flowers while you slept. Smell them.”</p><p>She smiled and her eyes glittered. Declan leant to take her in his arms
    and her arms went around him. He pressed her close and suddenly her body was bony and brittle, and the scent of the
    summer flowers turned to something sick and vile.</p><p>But by then it was too late.</p><p>***</p><p>The mouldering
    warrior lifted up a blood-scabbed sword. Kerry ducked under the swipe of the blade. It sang close enough to <em>snick</em>
    his hair. He stabbed up with his own blade and the point plunged between dry ribs and rattled uselessly against a
    dusty spine.</p><p>“Tasty boy,” it whispered. “Feed our starving bones.”</p><p>Another lurched forward, its jaw
    hanging loose. </p><p>“Okay, come on then, bag-of-bones,” Kerry snarled, heart pounding. He’d seen many things in
    his short time in this world, and this was the creepiest of all, but they were still skeletons, he told himself.
    They were bones, and they were slow. </p><p>He swung his sword and clipped the second warrior’s arm. It came away at
    the shoulder. Behind him bony fingers scratched at his throat and squeezed. Instinctively he twisted, and pieces of
    fingers clattered to the floor.</p><p>Something else caught at his leg and he saw, with huge disgust, that it was
    the hand on the arm he had cut off.</p><p>“Oh, screw this for fun and games,” he spat. He spun, slashed and hacked
    his way through the ring of impossibly mobile dead men. Pieces flew. Armour cracked. Some of the things fell to the
    ground, broken and shattered, but despite all that, they still came on, groping at him, the stuff of pure
    nightmare. </p><p>Over in the corner of the chamber he saw a space that looked like a passageway and shoved his way
    past the clawing hands into the space and started running.</p><p>He was going downhill all the way, gathering speed
    when he heard the echoing roar of water, but he kept on round the bend in the passageway.</p><p>And a wall of water
    hit him and tumbled him backwards and under.</p><p>***</p><p>Jack was lost. In his head - he was sure it was in his
    mind – he could hear whispering voices, but he could see no movement of any kind.</p><p>There was no light here and
    the heart stone was pounding in tandem with his own. </p><p>Sheer willpower kept him going, feeling forward, all
    senses so acute his nerves felt taut as bowstrings.</p><p>Something moved at his side, just a soft bump. Jack’s own
    heart kicked hard.</p><p>It came again. He groped behind him, but there was nothing to feel. Another touch and he
    swung the satchel round, touched the thick canvas and felt the thing move inside the bag. He was tempted to ignore
    it, but the twist came again, like a small beast in there, and he wondered how it had managed to squeeze under the
    buckles.</p><p>Warily he slipped them loose and with careful fingers, expecting all the time something slimy or
    scaly to strike and bite, but his fingers only encountered the straight edge of the old book. He touched the cover
    and felt it move, like breathing, once, twice. He could still see nothing, but he drew out the book, and as he did,
    it pulsed again, in and out, and as soon as it was flat in his hand, it opened and the pages whirred in
    sequence.</p><p>The book whispered to him in the riffle of pages.</p><p><em>Follow the heart, follow the beat</em>
</p><p><em>Sense in the dark for She-Bane seat</em></p><p><em>Speed to the heart, speed to the stone</em></p><p><em>Speed
    to the sword to find the way home</em>.</p><p>His mind understood the words. On his chest the heart stone stuttered
    faster still and he tucked the book away. He gripped the heart stone, felt it pound in his palm, and as the pounding
    increased, he walked on, following its direction.</p><p>***</p><p>The rushing water slammed Kerry down, rolled him
    against the walls and swept him back up the passageway. He was upside down, scraping against masonry. His foot found
    the floor and he pushed hard, terror expanding in his chest as the lack of air made his mind spin.</p><p>Kerry
    managed to claw his way to the surface, kicking his legs madly against the flow. He raised his hands and found the
    roof, only inches above his head</p><p></p><p>The water tried to drag him away, but he held on with fingernails in
    the cracks. </p><p>“Jack,” he bawled. “Jack man! Don’t you let me <em>drown.</em>”</p><p>The words were hardly out
    of his mouth when a hand clasped his ankle and began to drag him under. </p><p>***</p><p>Jack seemed to walk a long
    time.</p><p>“Hello?” he called out. “Kerry? Corriwen?”</p><p>There was no reply, but the sensation of a heavy
    heartbeat was strong here. He fumbled on, realised he was in yet another passageway, narrow and sloping downwards.
    He had no choice but to follow it. </p><p>He walked on, and soon he began to believe he really could hear the steady
    beat, so deep it vibrated inside him, and the further down the passage he groped, the more powerful it became. In
    his hand, the heaert stone pulsed of its own accord, but to a different beat.</p><p>Something waited ahead of him.
    He knew that now. He felt it. Something profoundly malevolent, so evil its badness seeped from the stones. It took
    all his courage to keep walking. He forced himself on until the tunnel veered and he came out into another
    chamber.</p><p>Instantly the stone in his hand began to glow.</p><p>From somewhere ahead came a shuddering sigh, a
    sound of pleasure, of relief, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t sound human, not in the least.</p><p>“Spawn!” a voice
    spoke in his mind. It was like the scrape of bone on stone, colder than ice. “You come at last.”</p><p>The glow
    faltered, dimmed. Jack clutched the heart stone tight and held it to his chest, squashing down his fear. The glow
    brightened again, stronger than before, as if he had recharged it with his own courage. This chamber was domed,
    circular, and in its centre squatted a massive black shape. He was drawn towards it and as he came closer he knew he
    was in the core of the Black Barrow.</p><p>The obsidian block faced him, as high as a man, polished smooth.</p><p>
    “You bring the key,” the voice whispered. “My key to worlds.”</p><p>“This was where they put her,” he thought.
    Finbar the Bard had been right. Finally Jack was here, and he was here alone to face the <em>Morrigan</em>.</p><p>
    But he now knew the power of the Key. His fingers tightened.</p><p>“You will never leave this place,” the voice
    said. It came from all around, and within him. He shuddered, trying to make his lungs work despite the pure fear
    that jolted through him. </p><p>“Bring it to me, Spawn.”</p><p>Jack shook his head. Words failed.</p><p>Inside the
    stone block, deep beyond the polished surface, a shadow within a shadow moved. Jack couldn’t draw his eyes
    away. </p><p>A shape resolved, and as he watched, defined itself into a face which swam up from its depths towards
    the surface. </p><p>He saw a woman.</p><p>She was pale and perfect. Her hair was black as a roak’s wing, her eyes
    even darker. Her lips were blood red. When she smiled her teeth were fine and even.</p><p>“Come to me, journeyman’s
    child.”</p><p>Jack could not draw his eyes away from the beauty that floated before him. His hand wanted to reach
    and touch the obsidian block, just to be close to her. He took a step forward and the heartstone shivered and blue
    light pulsed. He drew his foot back again.</p><p>“I know who you are,” his throat finally unclogged and he managed
    to speak.</p><p>“And I know <em>you</em>, “ she said, fixing those black eyes on him. They drew him with a powerful
    gravity.</p><p>“How do you know me?” Jack asked.</p><p>“Child. Child. I travel worlds. I can give you
    everything.”</p><p>“Like you promised Mandrake?”</p><p>“Like I promised your <em>father</em>.”</p><p>Jack’s heart
    lurched, as though he’d been punched in his chest.</p><p>She smiled. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever
    seen.</p><p>“I know what you do not,” she said. A delicate hand, white as milk, drifted towards him. The nails were
    black as tar. “Come closer and see what I know.”</p><p>Unable to help himself, Jack stepped closer. Her face slowly
    dissolved into swirling smoke and he felt a sudden ache as the perfection fragmented, but as he watched, the
    swirling focussed again, became shapes and he saw…</p><p><em>Five men on a hill, dressed in white and singing in
    close harmony, while beyond them, a tall man lifted a great sw</em><em>ord to the storm-swirl in the dark sky.</em>
</p><p><em>On his chest a white heart beat slow and steady and the man raised his face upwards as a shape spiralled
    down, screeching in anger, great wings tearing the air while on the ground bodies of Scree soldiers lay
    bleedi</em><em>ng.</em></p><p><em>It hurtled towards him, but the man stood his ground, sword raised and the fire
    from the stone ran up the great blade while the Bards sang. A skein of silver and gold light wrapped around the
    screeching thing and snared it tight, dragged it into the </em><em>great stone.</em></p><p><em>The man did not
    flinch, he held his sword in both hands now and plunged the blade into the stone until the lightning subsided and
    the screaming died as if it came from something that fell forever into the dark. The man’s shoulders slumped.
    He</em><em> sagged to his knees, then raised a face that was scarred and haunted.</em></p><p>Jack recognised him
    immediately. The dark hair, the set of the jaw. It was what he might look like when he was a man. Older, stronger.
    Braver. But the resemblance was clear.</p><p>“My father,” he whispered.</p><p>The scene faded and her face resolved
    once more behind the polished surface.</p><p>“I promised him everything,” she said. “Together we could have ruled
    worlds. He denied me, but you will not.”</p><p>She stared into his eyes and he felt as if he was falling into the
    deepest well.</p><p>But in his hand, the heartstone suddenly pulsed and a powerful pure light shone out, white as
    the sun, searing his palm.</p><p>He held it high, the way the warrior had done. The way his <em>father</em> had done
    with the sword.</p><p>And then he saw the sword itself, sunk to its hilt on the top of the obsidian block.</p><p>Her
    face shrank from the light, and he knew what he had to do. </p><p>He braced himself, grasped the top of the stone,
    hauled himself up, feet sliding and slipping on the smooth surface.</p><p>It vibrated under him as if it might
    explode.</p><p>“The Key, Cullian Spawn.” She raged. “I will have my <em>Key!”</em></p><p>“Not today, lady,” he heard
    himself say through the terror that gripped him. He managed to get a knee to the top, hauled himself over the edge,
    forced himself to his feet. The stone shuddered and rippled under him. He looked down and saw her there, whirling
    around deep inside. She turned her true face up and his heart almost stopped dead.</p><p>It was the face of a
    monster. Her eyes were red, the teeth sharp in a mouth that gaped like a beast’s. Hands like claws seemed to g<em>row</em>
    towards him, nails dripping with blood.</p><p>“Give me the <em>Key</em>!” she shrieked. </p><p>Pieces of masonry
    exploded from the roof. Stones shifted and ground together.</p><p>“Give me the Key and I will lead you to him.”</p>
<p>Jack didn’t trust his own voice. He dragged his eyes away from the monstrosity, kept them fixed on the hilt of the
    sword.</p><p>He reached for it, grasped it, and a pain hit him, a pain that shrieked through every nerve in his
    body. His back arched and his legs buckled, but he held on to the sword.</p><p>“Too late, Cullian Spawn,” She
    roared. The whole barrow felt as if it shifted on its foundations.</p><p>“He is damned forever beyond the lands of
    the dead,” she screeched. The voice tore at his mind. “And so is <em>she</em>.”</p><p>“You die fatherless, and you
    die <em>motherless</em>.”</p><p>Jack jerked back in shock. But his hand still held the hilt of the sword.</p><p>The
    terrible voice raged and roared, shattering stone all around, but he kept his mind fixed on the sword. He knelt,
    gripped tight, then pushed up with his legs with every ounce of his strength.</p><p>The blade drew out of the stone
    with no sound at all.</p><p>Jack Flint held it in both hands while around his neck, the heart stone blazed pure
    white fire.</p>