Five Senses Box Set

by Andre Norton

  “I am but one,” Twilla answered. “And my influence may be for very little. But be assured that what I can do that I shall.”

  He raised his staff a little as if in salute and then they followed Utin. For a time it would seem that they would not take to the water, only walk beside it. The boots were clumsy and rubbed Twilla's feet, and after a while Wandi complained that she wanted to take hers off.

  Utin set a brisk pace in the lead and he did not halt, only grunted some warning when they lagged a little behind.

  There was no variation of the light here, no coming of dark. Twilla could not reckon time but at length she stopped, knowing that Wandi could not keep up. The child had been hanging on her for some time, without a rest. She seated herself on the ground Wandi flopping down beside her. Utin turned and growled at them but Twilla shook her head and pointed to their feet trying to make some gesture he would understand. He gave a final grunt and went a little away from them down to the river, staring into the flood as if he were looking for some lost treasure there.

  The grass before them moved, heaved upward, gave room to a form. Huge, far larger than any of its species she had seen over mountain. A boar which must stand as tall as Twilla's shoulder, small red eyes fastened on the girl and with a large front hoof it pawed the ground, tearing loose chunks of tough grass.

  Always it had been said that the wild swine of the unsettled places over mountain were the most dangerous of any animal man might try to hunt. They were wily, showing a frightening cleverness, an ability to turn upon a hunter when least expected. And this was the epitome of any boar she could imagine.

  It grunted, tossing its heavy head. There were threads of spittle spinning out from those great tusks set in both upper and lower jaws.

  Wandi whimpered and cowered next to Twilla, shaking with fright. The older girl had already put hand on her pole ax though that she would have the skill and strength to stand up against such a creature she did not know.

  Utin moved, setting his small body in front of the two he guided. He was grunting also, sounds so like those the boar was making Twilla could believe that he actually spoke some beast-like language.

  The boar's attention swung to Utin, those red eyes intent upon the small man. For a long moment they stood so in confrontation. Then the heavy, bristled head tossed.

  Utin turned his back on the creature and returned to the girls. He made an emphatic gesture ahead—it was plain he wanted them on the move.

  For a moment longer Twilla centered her attention on the boar. It had not approached closer, simply snorted, and once more impatiently dug into the ground.

  Chard bore the semblance of this creature on his staff of power, she had seen the masks elsewhere. There was certainly a tie between the under people and the boar. Utin showed it respect but did not seem alarmed at its presence.

  He was gesturing again, more emphatically and Twilla arose. One arm about Wandi and the other gripping the pole ax, she moved as their guide signaled. However, they were not free of the boar.

  Snuffling and grunting it fell in behind as they went. The rank odor of its kind was strong on the air. Wandi still whimpered but she did not try to evade Twilla's hold on her, matching pace with the girl.

  However, they were not to be easily rid of the new, four-footed guard. A guard, Twilla was sure the beast must be, cutting off any retreat into the innerlands.

  Since the creature showed no signs of attack she believed that as long as they followed Utin they might be able to go without interference. Now, rising a barrier for them ahead, was a cliff which stretched up and to either side without apparently any end.

  The rock which formed it was banded by outcropping, rich, easily mined, ore deposits of more than one metal. Such riches as the over mountain lords had never chanced upon with all their delving and wracking in their own land. Let one of the king's overseers set eye on this and there would be the inpouring of an army in an attempt to secure such a source of wealth.

  The river cut into the cliff but the water did not fill that passage completely. Utin stopped, letting them catch up. Behind, Twilla was well aware, that the boar still followed.

  Their guide pointed to that cliff opening through which the water flowed and made signs that Twilla and Wandi were to take that path, though he made no effort to lead the way any farther.

  Twilla used the shaft of the pole ax to sound for a bottom. She discovered, after several such thrusts, that the water covered at least two levels. Near the bank there appeared to run a way which would give them good footing but not rise higher perhaps than the boots with which they had been provided. Then there was a sharp dip in the bed and there the water was much deeper.

  Utin waved at them impatiently and behind she heard the boar give a significant grunt. It would seem that both their traveling companions wanted to be rid of them.

  “Walk behind me,” Twilla told Wandi, “hold to my skirt and try to step where I have gone. Do you understand?”

  The child nodded vigorously. Twilla raised a hand to Utin and said a word of thanks which undoubtedly he could not understand. Then she stepped onto that side ledge and headed toward the cavern through which the river flowed.

  For a space the light from behind them gave some chance of seeing, but the darkness grew thicker the farther they advanced. Luckily their underwater path seemed to have no break. After some moments of travel along it, Twilla felt more at ease.

  They went on steadily, Wandi crowding closer against her as the dark increased. Twilla wondered about using the mirror light here but there were too many unknowns ahead. She had no wish to weaken any power she might well need later for a defense.

  There were no turns in the river, it ran as straight here as if it had been purposefully cut. The water was cold and gradually Twilla's feet, in spite of the boots, grew numb. She worried about Wandi, not sure that she could carry the child should she be unable to keep on by herself.

  However, it began to grow lighter ahead promising that they might soon win into the open. Abruptly the rock walls vanished and they were free. Though there were still barrriers on either side, these of earth with above sentinels of tall trees. The green stirring of the forest reached here though, Twilla saw none of the floating mist which marked the aisles between the trees elsewhere.

  Here were signs on the crumbling earthen banks that at times the river must reach a much higher level. She kept watching to find some way of climbing out of the cut.

  At last she discovered a place where a tangle of roots was exposed and, boosting up Wandi, following close behind, Twilla made use of that as a ladder.

  The forest gloom was not as thick here as open sky stretched about the river. But in which way she should now head Twilla had no idea. If she struck into the full dusk of the woods she would still be lost, not only lost but perhaps prey for Lotis. She had no guide back to the castle.

  While, on the other hand, if they kept on beside the stream they would eventually reach the plains and there she might be able to leave Wandi with some land family. Though she herself must keep under cover.

  Judging by the sun it must be midday. There was a chill nip in the air and she shivered.

  “Where are we now?” Wandi stopped short to demand.

  “In the forest. Your own land must be ahead and we shall go in that direction—”

  They had not gone far before the forest murmur of leaves was pierced by other sounds—the ring of metal against stone, voices raised—

  Cautiously Twilla pushed on. There had been a landslip here and one of the great trees, its roots undermined, had fallen, just missing choking the water flow. About that men were busy, hacking with axes, orders being shouted as the great limbs were chopped free, to be hauled downstream by laboring teams of sweating horses.

  The invaders! Twilla crouched down. She studied the men below. They were under the command of a burly man in landsman's clothing, but, even as she settled into hiding, she saw another small party coming upstream with one of the
horse teams to get another limb.

  Ustar! There was no mistaking the leader who was followed by two armed men. To get away—that need tore at her. There would be no chance to parlay with these if Ustar was in command.

  Wandi moved suddenly. Before Twilla could catch her she was at the bank sliding down to the fallen tree waving both her arms and shouting at the top of her shrill child's voice.

  “Da—here I be, Da! Da!”

  The working men stopped, were staring upward to the child now dancing in a frenzy. Then the burly man who had been giving orders shouted in turn:

  “Wandi—Wandi!”

  He threw himself forward, arms outstretched.

  Twilla drew a deep breath. Wandi was free—and there was no need for her to remain here. Moving first on hands and knees so she might not be sighted from below, she pushed her way well back under tree shadow and then ran blindly, thinking only of Ustar sighted below.

  18

  TWILLA GASPED FOR breath, a sharp pain pierced her side. She realized slowly that her fear had very little foundation. Ustar had seen her only with the mirror face, he might not be able to recognize her now. But even then, had she been discovered by those workers below, what explanation for her presence would she have been able to give? No, it was best that she was now beyond their reach for she was sure that they were not going to follow her into this dreaded territory.

  A second thought was daunting. She was undeniably lost. For her there were no landmarks, no guides. She had no idea of how one could reach the glade of the Great Tree. One forest aisle was like another and the drifting mist made more confusion.

  Trembling with the effort of her run from the river cut, Twilla dropped at the foot of one of the trees, the great outspreading root tops above the ground forming a support. She fumbled with the food packet the under people had given her and tried to wrench free a mouthful of the stuff. Its taste was unpleasant, oily, but she continued to chew and then make herself swallow the mess.

  She had no idea how well patrolled the forest was— whether she could hope to encounter someone of its people—perhaps a guard such as had reported to Oxyle. Certainly they must have some watch upon the river cutting and the men working there.

  However, for the present, she was content to remain where she was. To get up and wander fruitlessly again was beyond her present strength.

  Perhaps she dozed a little, she never knew, but suddenly she gasped and coughed. There was a waft of putrid stench in the air. She looked up to see, lumbering out from between trees, just such a monster as had been on patrol on the opposite end of the forest.

  Though she knew it to be illusion, unable to harm unless one surrendered to the waves of fear it broadcast, still she clawed her way up to her feet, using the ridges of the roots for support.

  The thing was so real! She could see it, smell it, hear clearly its growls. Twilla almost feared that she might even find it solid substance if she touched it. And, if all her senses so betrayed her, she would be its meat.

  Mirror—she felt for the mirror. It could also show what was not and perhaps she controlled some form of illusion to counter this. She held the disk up with hands which shook a little as the thing strode purposefully toward her, dripping mouth wide, claws reaching.

  “You,” she summoned up words to be spoken by a dry tongue, “are not. You are not!”

  Its fetid breath puffed at her. One of those clawed appendages scraped along the roots among which she sheltered. The thing snarled, made a swipe in her direction.

  “You are not!” She choked back her scream and said those words like a chant of protection. “Not—not— not!”

  But it was! There was no hazing out of that haired body. Was it possible that there was such a creature and the forest people summoned for their own needs an illusion of a thing that did live?

  She steadied the mirror. At least it was not appearing yet to close—bring her down with those claws.

  Twilla drew a deep breath, strove to hold to control when all her senses reported that this was real, that she was its prey beyond hope of escape.

  “You are not!” She cried out in what might have . been a scream had she not fought for control.

  The thing grinned. Its small eyes gleamed. But it did not advance. Instead it squatted down, its thick lower limbs folding under it. Now it threw back its great head and from that fanged muzzle broke a howling.

  Twilla cringed in spite of her efforts to believe that this was all illusion. If the thing had been created to patrol the forest perhaps it had also been set to take prisoners of intruders—those which did not flee when they first sighted it. Then—sooner or later one of the warders would—

  Mist swirled behind the monster, thickened and from its core stepped Oxyle. Twilla gave a little sob of relief. The forest lord snapped his fingers and the monster, never taking its eyes from Twilla standing at bay, snorted and growled.

  “Off!” Oxyle ordered as he would speak to a hound.

  The thing growled again, shaking its head from side to side, but it was regaining its feet, though giving the impression that it did so reluctantly. Then it turned to face the forest lord, and snarled again.

  Oxyle merely pointed a finger at it. Uttering a cry of protest it shambled away, back into the wood shadows from whence it had come.

  “It—it was real—” Twilla said in a shaking voice.

  “That one, yes. But how came you here, Moon Daughter? And where have you been?”

  She was shaking, slipping once more into that pocket among the roots. Where had she been? So long a story—

  Twilla pressed the mirror to her, feeling something of comfort as its hard substance filled her hands.

  “In—in the innerways—the sealed ways. There was the child,” she tried now to set memories straight for reporting, “in Lotis's chamber. I brought her out— there were monsters—and those were illusions,” she added sharply. “But Wandi ran—and she went through one of the sealed doors—I went after her.” She paused. Tired as she was and shaken as she had been during her confrontation with the monster, she found it hard to marshall the whole story.

  “You have then been,” Oxyle said, “where no one has ventured for a thousand seasons. And what did you find—? No, this is a story which deals with hidden things and you shall tell it to those who have reason to know.”

  He held out his hand, coming forward, and she scrambled up to take it. The familiar mist closed to cocoon them. She held tightly with her other hand to the mirror.

  Once more she stood in that land where the jeweled trees bore their fruit and before them was the castle. Oxyle had continued to hold her hand and now he drew her on into that place of many treasures, bringing her to the hall in which stood the feasting table.

  However, there were no feasters there now, only five of the forest people. Karla was there, and two other of the women—one she recognized as the mother of Fanna. Though she did not remember the two men. All of them faced around to stare as Oxyle led her forward.

  “We have been summoned,” Karla spoke first. “We are in council, Oxyle. Now what have you to tell us? And the Moon's Daughter, where has she been?”

  “In Ragnok—I think—but she will tell you.”

  Someone drew a breath which might have marked a stifled protest. Oxyle drew Twilla to that chair at the top of that table, handing her into it. He took his place beside her.

  Holding the mirror, because somehow that gave her comfort, Twilla told her tale. Several times there were muttered ejections from those who listened. One of the men made as to speak when she told of freeing the fungi-bound warriors. Fanna’s mother shook her head slowly when Twilla spoke of their coming to that great hall to find it deserted.

  Her mouth dried. There was suddenly a goblet before her and she sipped that same sweet, watery drink she had first tasted at the feast.

  She told of her bargain with Chard, of the departure from the hold. There was another stirring when she spoke of the boar which had so suddenly
appeared to trail them to the riverway. Then she related what she had seen, the invaders working at the downed tree, of Wandi's going to the man who must have been her father. Twilla drank more deeply a second time, and she felt the rise of energy within.

  “That is the full story,” she ended.

  “Khargel!” The man next to Oxyle shifted on the bench. “But—that is a tree life away! Khargel and his works have been long swept into the shadows!”

  “Rightly,” snapped Karla. “We have a darkness to remember from those days. But their women—”

  “And their children!” broke in Fanna's mother. “Where are they? You saw a rock,” she spoke directly to Twilla—"nothing else?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “In this their priest lord is right,” the third man said, “we now have a common enemy. If those from the open lands work their way up river, hunting that metal they seek, they will win into the heart and, if the old stories are true, also as the Moon Daughter has said, those of the underways are not harmed by iron. Therefore they would be allies worth having.”

  “If they are willing to deal with us,” Oxyle said. “Remember the sentence Khargel passed on them— though we have long refuted him and all his works— yet these have suffered in person from his powers. We will restore their women if we can. But what sorcery that Dark One wrought are leaves of another season. We can meet with them and with goodwill on our side—if they will accept that we come in good faith.”

  “There are still those among us,” Karla returned, “who play with power wantonly. Lotis enticed this child into our lands—and have we not had trouble ever since with determined efforts of those outsiders to win within? They ride the fringes and the wardens must be ever on guard. That the child had been returned—perhaps that will aid us in a little. For Lotis had not had time to bind her.”

  “Yet she has raged ever since,” commented the third woman. “The more so after her bondman went—”

  Twilla straightened. “Lord Ylon—what has chanced with him?” she demanded sharply.