The Great Tree of Avalon Read Free Page B

cry out, let alone escape. The eagleboy held his breath; the woman on the ground squeezed her baby for the last time.
    Something pricked the eagleboy’s shoulder. A talon! It closed on his shoulder, grasping him firmly without slicing his skin. He looked up anxiously, relieved to see his mother’s face again.
    But it wasn’t his mother! In a blur, as the boulders came cascading down, he saw a powerful eagleman swoop just above him. One talon held his shoulder, while the other grabbed the huddled woman and her child. The eagleman’s great wings carried them to safety, whooshing like the wind.
    With a great, grinding crash, the spiral tower collapsed. Shards of stone and clouds of soot exploded into the sky, merging with the plumes of smoke. The rescued people escaped by the breadth of a single feather. Obba wasn’t so fortunate: His dying, anguished thought was of all those precious coins he would never get to see.
    The eagleman veered, flapped once, then set them down on a broad, flat stone at the edge of the cliffs. He landed a few paces away. For a moment he just gazed at them, his golden eyes aglow—not from the flickering fires all around, but from a far stranger fire within.
    The eagleboy and the woman stared back at him in silence, their faces full of wonder. Even the small baby fell hushed.
    All of a sudden the eagleman’s body began to shimmer. His huge wings faded, then shrank into arms. The feathers on his chest swiftly melted away. The eagleboy shrieked in surprise, while the woman’s astonished eyes opened wide.
    Before them now stood a man. Indeed, a very old man. His tangled, white beard fell below his waist; his ancient eyes seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time; his nose seemed almost as hooked as an eagle’s beak. He wore a long robe of azure blue, flecked with runes that shimmered like mist in morning light. Upon his head sat a miserable, half-crushed hat, whose pointed tip leaned to one side.
    The woman gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I know you,” she muttered. “You are—”
    Instantly he raised his hand in warning. “Speak no more, my dear. Not here.” His dark eyes roamed over the ridge, hovering briefly on the smoking pile of rubble—all that remained of the spiral tower of rocks. “Eyes may be watching, ears may be listening. Even now.”
    He leaned toward her, one of his hands twirling strands of his beard. “You know me, yes. And you know that I have come all the way here for good reason. To save the life of someone most precious—not just to me, but to the entire world of Avalon.”
    His eyes, suddenly sorrowful, moved to the eagleboy. “Take care of him, will you, good woman? Protect him even as you will protect your own son. For he has lost his own mother on this dreadful night.”
    The eagleboy winced at these words. His whole body trembled, but still he tried to stand up straight. Gently, the woman placed her hand on his shoulder. He shook it off, without even turning to look at her. Rather, he kept his yellow-rimmed eyes focused on the old man.
    Doffing his misshapen hat, the elder bent down on one knee. His long, hooked nose almost touched the eagleboy’s. “Your name is Scree, is it not?”
    Stiffly, he nodded.
    “You are destined to play a great role in this world, my lad. A very great role. There isn’t much I can do to help you, I’m afraid. But at least I can give you this.”
    Deftly, he plucked a single white hair from his beard. He held it in the palm of his hand, where it fluttered in the night air. Then he cocked his head ever so slightly—and the hair suddenly changed color, darkening to reddish brown. At the same time, it thickened and lengthened until it resembled a stick of wood with a knotted top.
    And it kept right on growing. Thicker and longer it grew, right before the amazed eagleboy, until it was a full-size staff, gnarled and twisted along its whole length. Strange runes carved on its sides glowed mysteriously. The old man