Shadows on the Stars Read Online Free PDF

his lip thoughtfully, he took up his dagger again. Then, with considerable care, he made his first slice in the wood. It cut as easily as the froth on a mug of Stoneroot ale, seeming to sense the movement of his blade even before he did. He began to work on what would eventually become the instrument’s soundbox, not yet daring to carve on its delicately curved neck. The slab trembled ever so slightly in his fingers. All of a sudden, he realized that it was asking him something—a question that lay between wood and hand.
    A harp , he answered in the same silent language that helped him speak with creatures of any kind. Become a harp. One that is light to hold and lovely to play. One that will give endless joy to Elli.
    The wood made an airy, sighing sound. The dark brown grains seemed to realign, shaping themselves magically in Tamwyn’s hand. And he knew beyond doubt that this would be the most beautiful thing he had ever carved.
    Just right for her, he told himself. Then he blew a sigh, scattering the steam from the hot spring. For he knew that if the harp turned out well, it would be less because of his own skill than because of the wood. Once again, he needed a magical object to do something right. Not his own magic, his own power.
    His gaze shifted to the ancient staff that lay on the moss beside him. Wisps of steam curled around its shaft, partly covering the green runes that stood for Merlin’s Seven Songs, giving the staff an eerie, mysterious look. As if it belonged more to the Otherworld than this one. And perhaps it did. For this was Merlin’s own staff, the legendary Ohnyalei, whose name meant spirit of grace in the Fincayran Old Tongue.
    Tamwyn frowned. How he longed to truly deserve that staff] To be a real wizard—someone who had fully mastered his powers, who could wield magic just as confidently as he could now wield a whittler’s knife. Someone who could rise to the crisis that his world would soon confront—in just a few more weeks, as Rhita Gawr had boasted.
    Trolls’ tongues! he cursed to himself. Quit dreaming, will you? You’re the last person who could possibly help.
    Perhaps, he thought grimly, he really had no choice but to accept his fate as the child of the Dark Prophecy . . . whose destiny was to bring about the very end of Avalon. No matter what the Lady of the Lake had told him about choosing his own fate, more and more the Prophecy seemed inescapable.
    A frosty gust of wind tore across the mountaintop, hurling snow and ice over the rocks outside the overhang. Even under the shelter, some snow blew into the hot spring, making the water hiss angrily. Steam scattered, Shim’s white hair stood on end, and all the tiny ferns on the overhang shivered in unison.
    Out of habit, Tamwyn looked around for some wood to build a fire. But there was nothing that he could kindle with his iron stones. A real wizard could start afire without any wood , he grumbled silently. And the only magical flame he’d ever made was just an image—an illusion , as Nuic liked to call it. Not the real thing.
    Angrily, he slammed his fist down on the bed of moss. For he knew, in his heart, that what really stood between him and wizardry—between him and some sure way to save his world—was not the lack of ability. No, what held him back most of all was something very human. Something that had shown itself at the worst possible moment out there at the Stargazing Stone.
    Fear.
    Fear that his powers could never be controlled, or directed in the ways he wanted. And, even worse, that they could arise without warning, entirely unbidden, and harm the people he loved most. People such as Elli.
    Yet . . . unless he somehow found a way to master those powers, how could he ever help Avalon in its time of need? Or avoid fulfilling the Dark Prophecy? And, closer to home, how could he ever be with Elli? Or hope to find his father?
    Suddenly something shot under the overhang, speeding like an arrow. It glowed, leaving behind a