The Great Tree of Avalon Read Free Page A

Looking taller than he’d guessed—as tall as a full-grown oak tree. And it seemed more rickety than ever. But what was that? Moving in front of the green flames?
    Obba blinked. Someone else was there!
    He stared at the figure, dark as the smoky night, as it moved closer to the spiral tower of rocks. When it approached the flickering green flames at the tower’s base, he could see at last what it was.
    A woman! Young. Peasant stock, by the looks of her shredded robe and scraggly red hair. Obba smacked his lips. Now things were really looking up! Maybe he’d have a bit of fun before heading back through the portal with his prize.
    Quietly, he slunk closer, ducking behind a blackened boulder. He studied his prey. She was facing the green flames, with her back to him. Probably warming her hands. Suddenly he roared and charged straight at the poor woman. Startled, she screamed and whirled around, nearly losing the bundled infant she held in her arms.
    Just a few paces away, he halted. With a lopsided leer, he dropped his sack, which hit the ground with a thud. Then, arms open wide, he rasped, “C’mere, me liddle flower.” His crooked teeth glowed green. “Time fer gettin’ warm on this cold night.”
    She shook her wild red mane. “Go away!” she cried in the Common Tongue, though with an accent that Obba hadn’t heard before. “Before you meet the greater cold of death.”
    “So yer a bold one, eh? Jest how I likes me flowers.”
    He moved closer, knowing that she was trapped between him and the tower. Even if she did know that the green fire was really a portal, she wasn’t likely to try to escape that way, unless she knew the special chant to protect a baby. By the wizard’s beard, this was going to be easy!
    She scowled at him savagely. “Come no closer, man! Or I shall . . . I shall . . .”
    “Shall what, me blossom?” For the first time, he noticed her eyes: fiery orange, upturned at the corners. Flamelon eyes. So, she isn’t human at all. Jest one o’ them fire-people.
    “Now c’mere, afore ye gets me angry.” He stooped to grab a rock. “So I don’t have to hurt yer liddle one.”
    “No!” She clutched her bundle more tightly.
    Obba advanced on her. “Time fer pickin’ flowers, heh heh.”
    “Go away, I said!” Trembling, she raised her left hand, as her fingertips began to glow like fire coals. Bright orange they turned, sizzling and crackling with growing heat, preparing to hurl a firebolt into the very heart of her attacker. Her arm straightened, her fingers pointed, when—
    Obba’s rock flew into her forearm, cracking her bones. She cried out in pain as the glow faded from her fingers. Stumbling backward, she fell, dropping her baby on the ground. She crawled toward the shrieking bundle.
    But Obba got there first. He lifted the infant high in the air, out of her reach. His eyes burned like flame vents. “Now, now there. Lemme jest quiet yer liddle one.”
    “Stop!” Still on the ground, she kicked at him. But he just stepped aside, chuckling, as the baby in his hands wailed loudly.
    Obba planted his feet, ready to smash this noisy creature against the rocks of the ridge. “Yer goin’ to crack right open now, jest like an egg.”
    “ Nooo! ”
    His arms tensed. He started to throw.
    At that instant, something hard rammed into him. Not a rock—but a head. The head of the eagleboy!
    Obba staggered backward and fell hard against the tower. The baby slipped from his grasp. Springing, the woman caught her son and rolled aside.
    The eagleboy, his cheek swollen and bruised, screeched angrily. Heedless of his much smaller size, all he wanted was to attack this man who had taken him from the nest on this terrible night. He braced himself to pounce—when a sudden rumble from above made him freeze.
    The tower of rocks swayed, buckled, and split apart. All at once, the entire top section came tumbling down. Rocks larger than Obba himself fell toward the people below. There was no time to