Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

heaved and convulsed around the emaciated body, and then formed into a jagged mouth that spat the body out. The man fell limply to the ground and lay still, moaning faintly. He was little more than skin and bone. The wall had all but sucked him dry. The Steward stood over him, her shimmering shield between them and the stone mouth. It grinned at her, and stretched wider and wider until it was the length of the wall. Squat bulky teeth appeared behind the thick gross lips. The Steward cut at the mouth with her sword. The stone yielded helplessly to the glowing balefire, but the blade was too small to do any real damage to the gigantic mouth. A deep rumbling growl issued from the stone, and back down the Hall Jordan wondered crazily what the stone mouth would sound like once it learned to speak. The Steward backed away a step. She made a quick gesture with her hands, and her sword and shield disappeared. The stone mouth pursed its lips, and then smiled slowly.
    We are coming . . . we will be here soon . . . we are coming ... we are coming . . .
    There was nothing human in the voice, only an awful, purposeful evil that made Jordan want to wince away from the sound. Many of the courtiers did. The Steward stood her ground, her face drawn and tense, and spoke a second Word of Power. A blinding light flared up around the Steward, blazing soundlessly as it fought in vain to consume her, but bound by her will to do her bidding. She gestured sharply, and the balefire flew away from her to sink into the wall. The huge mouth twisted in agony. There was a silent flare of light too bright to look at, and when everyone's eyes had cleared the mouth was gone, and the wall was just a wall again.
    The Steward knelt down beside the man she'd rescued, and felt for a pulse in his neck. After a moment she nodded tiredly and stood up again. She gestured to the nearest servants, and they hurried forward to take care of the shrunken figure. Jordan looked closely at the man as he was carried past, and was relieved to note that the emaciated chest was still rising and falling, if only just. He looked back at the Steward to congratulate her, and then hesitated. She was clearly unsteady on her feet, and Jordan realised just how much her magic had taken out of her. Her face was pale and drawn, and sweat trickled down her brow. Her hands were shaking slightly, but when Damon Cord hurried over to stand at her side, she brusquely waved away his silent offer of support.
    She looked slowly round the quiet Hall, taking in the silent courtiers and what remained of the dead Unreal creatures, and finally she nodded wearily. She turned to the throne on the dais, and bowed to the Regent.
    'That's it. I've done all I can here. But things are going to stay unsettled until there's a King on the throne again. My sorcery is strong enough to cope for the moment, but that's all. Tell the people why we're here.
    We can't put this off any longer.'
    'Is the Hall clear of the Unreal now?' asked the Lady Gabrielle.
    The Steward looked at the Monk. Lewis stiffened slightly. For a moment Jordan thought the Steward was going to say something, but then the moment passed, and she just looked away. 'I've done all I can, my Lady. Let the Regent say his piece, and then we can all get out of here. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've got work to do.'
    'Yeah,' said Cord. 'Lots to be done.' He hefted the sword in his hand, and grinned nastily. He opened his hand and the sword suddenly disappeared. Jordan jumped, startled, as the mace in his hand disappeared too. He flexed his fingers ner-• vously, and fought down an urge to check inside his sleeves in case the mace was hiding there. Heather elbowed him sharply in the ribs as the Regent began speaking, and Jordan quickly paid attention to what was being said.
    'My friends,' said the Regent, 'we live in dangerous times. Without a King on the throne, the whole of Redhart could soon fall prey to the Unreal. But with the will and the crown and the seal missing, we have been unable to declare any of the Princes as King. All three brothers have had ample time to find the crown and seal, and they have all failed. We cannot, dare not, wait any longer. It is therefore my unfortunate duty to proclaim the Rite of Transference, as established in precedent. From this moment on, any man with Blood who presents crown and seal to the Stone in the correct ceremony will be declared the next King of Redhart.'
    For a long time nobody said