“I heard them talk of a sweeping investigation of the highlands planned for next year, after the first thaw, to flush out traitors and seditioners. I heard enough to make me certain the Council knows the Druid is alive. I also heard much talk about the Black Dog and his efforts to undermine authority and plunge the Land back into chaos. They think of you as a terrible threat, Brydda, and hunger to get hold of you. They were expecting word of your capture from Aborium. My guess is that news has come by now but that it was bad news.” He grinned at Brydda.
Domick paused to drink thirstily from a mug Katlyn had given him.
“What about the Druid’s friend? Did you learn who he is?” Kella asked.
Domick looked grim. “Almost from the start, I heard talk of a special agent who worked for both the Herder Faction and the Council, getting information to help expose seditioners. He had masterminded the capture of the man who betrayed your network, Brydda. And he forced him to talk when he refused to betray you. The agent was said to be brilliant and completely ruthless.”
“Then you heard no talk of Obernewtyn?” I asked.
Domick shook his head. “I had heard no mention of Obernewtyn—until two days ago. I overheard a conversation between two Councilmen about this special agent and his certainty that something was going on at Obernewtyn. One Councilman said he didn’t think there was anything in it, and the other reminded him that the agent had seldom led them wrong. I became certain then that this special agent and the Druid’s friend were the same person.”
“That sounds right to me,” I said. “The Druid befriended Rushton at one point, and maybe his agent resented this. It may be why he decided to play Druid for a fool.”
But Domick frowned. “That’s what I thought, because what other reason would this agent have for wanting Obernewtyn investigated?” He looked so stern, I felt suddenly frightened of what he was about to say.
“I never saw the agent,” he went on slowly. “Though I often heard him spoken of, there was never any mention of his name. But I was curious. Someone told me he came only at night to make reports, so I managed to get myself assigned to night duty.
“I was able to catch glimpses of him, but he always wore a hooded cloak that concealed his face. When I heard him talk, I had the strangest feeling I had heard his voice somewhere before. That made me more determined than ever to see what he looked like. Last night, I hid in a cupboard in the meeting room. I watched him through a crack in the door, but he kept his hood on the entire time he talked. I could not see his face, but I could hear him clearly.
“He told the Council he had been torturing more suspected seditioners in Aborium. Most knew nothing, but one seemed to think Brydda had family in Rangorn. A mother and father. Apparently, the poor man had only overheard that, because everyone else believed Brydda an escaped orphan. The agent said soldierguards had been in the area recently, and their report showed only one couple fitting the description. He wanted Council permission to bring them in for interrogation.
“The Council voted to send a troop of guards to Rangorn. They are on their way here now.”
Brydda’s face was pale and tense. “I did not think anyone knew. I was too careless.”
I said nothing. Something in Domick’s manner warned me the story was not finished.
“I was desperate to get away to warn you, but I had to wait until the room was empty. At last the meeting ended, and all the Councilmen left but this agent. Only then did he take off his hood, and I saw his face.”
“You … you recognized him?” Kella guessed.
Domick nodded.
“Ariel,” he said. “It was Ariel.”
PART III
THE KEN
20
WITH SOLDIERGUARDS ON their way, it was too risky to proceed as planned. We decided to hide at the foot of the mountains until the danger was past. No one would guess we would deliberately trap ourselves in a cul-de-sac.
“The soldierguards aren’t subtle enough to suspect we would do anything other than the obvious,” Brydda said. “When they don’t find us here, they’ll think we have escaped by going around Glenelg Mor, because that’s what they would do in our place.”
Brydda knew of an area at the foot of Tor where we could make a safe camp, a narrow valley running into the foot of the hills and concealed by a thick copse of trees. From the other side, no one would suspect the trees continued for just a few steps before reaching the steep mountainside. Brydda had played there as a boy and remembered it well despite his long absence.
We had spent precious time packing Katlyn’s invaluable store of dried herbs. Almost everything else had to be left behind, and tears coursed down her face as Brydda threw a flaming torch on the roof of the cottage.
“It is only stone and mud and straw, I know, but all the memories of happy years are in those walls, and now they burn,” she sobbed.
Jolting through the darkness and chilled by a damp, blustery wind, I thought bitterly of Domick’s news. Obernewtyn was in danger. With Ariel to force the pace, I had no doubt the soldierguards would appear in spring, immediately after the thaw. Ariel, of all people, would know that Obernewtyn was at its most vulnerable then. If we failed to get back in time to warn Rushton, they would be completely unprepared, defenseless against an onslaught of soldierguards.
But it was a matter of days before the pass would be snowed shut. Domick must have known when he came to us that he was losing the last chance of warning Obernewtyn. But if he had not delayed and ridden to warn us, the soldierguards would have taken us all.
I could not imagine how Ariel had survived or what course had brought him to the Council, but I had no doubt that his primary motive was to revenge himself on Obernewtyn and Rushton.
He could not know for sure that the firestorm story had been a lie, but he might have guessed it was a ruse to keep the Council away from Obernewtyn, for he knew that Rushton had befriended me. But how had Ariel inveigled himself with Henry Druid and then the Council? The most obvious likelihood was that he had stumbled into the Druid’s men in the White Valley, and he had somehow won the old man’s trust. But how had he reached Sutrium from the highlands, and how he had gained the Council’s trust?
It did not take us long to reach Brydda’s hiding spot. It was as good as he had led us to believe. We could even see the cottage burning in the distance, while we were invisible behind a thick girdle of eben trees. Brydda bade Kella, Jik, and his mother to organize supper in order to occupy the older woman’s mind. He asked me to walk with him to collect firewood, leading the way purposefully through the trees. The ground sloped up steeply, offering a sweeping view of the area.
“This is a sight I remember well,” Brydda said softly. Over the treetops, I could see the dense darkness of the Blacklands in the moonlight like a shadowy stain across the Land.
Pavo had once said the Blacklands would recede in time, but I could not imagine anything growing on the black, stinking soil. I shuddered, and for a moment, it seemed to me Ariel and the Blacklands were symptoms of the same evil.
Beyond the hills was the silvery rush of the Suggredoon and the huddled village of Rangorn. I could even see the mists that hung above Glenelg Mor. Behind me were the towering bulks of Aran Craggie and Tor. So many ways to go, and none fast enough to get us to Obernewtyn in time.
The wind in the treetops sounded like the whispering ebb and flow of the sea. Brydda stirred as if the same wind had blown through him, ruffling his thoughts like so many leaves. I bent to pick up a stick for kindling, but Brydda touched my arm and drew me aside.
“I want to talk to you alone,” he said in a low, serious voice. “I think you should consider coming back to Sutrium with me, all of you, and especially Domick. Very few people have managed to work their way into such a position as he has attained on the Council. He will be valuable to both our causes.” He nodded toward Pavo. “He is certainly not up to a hard, long trip to the high mountains. And he needs Kella with him. I can organize a safe journey fo
r you all to Obernewtyn after winter.”
I shook my head. “It would be too dangerous to have Jik in Sutrium after what happened in Aborium. Especially if there are as many Herder priests about as Domick said. And Dragon could not be confronted with a city. I would be grateful if you would take Kella and Pavo for the time. But one of us must try to reach Obernewtyn before the pass freezes. I will go and take Dragon and Jik with me.”
“Why can’t you speak to this Rushton with your mind?” Brydda asked.
“The mountains between the high country and Obernewtyn are badly tainted and thick enough besides to form a barrier that my mind cannot broach,” I explained.
“But is it wise or sensible for you to go, Elspeth? What about your feet?” Brydda protested.
“My feet will take me where I need to go, and I am better equipped to deal with trouble than any of the others.”
To my surprise, Brydda grinned. “If you are so determined, I might have a way to shorten your road back to Obernewtyn. Let’s get some wood and go back to camp. I have an idea I want to put to you all.”
It was after midnight by the time we had eaten and Brydda laid his plan out. Pavo, Kella, and Domick were to go to Sutrium under Brydda’s protection. In exchange for shelter and the setting up of the safe house Rushton wanted, Domick would share all he learned with Brydda, unless the coercer believed it would jeopardize Obernewtyn. “Elspeth, Dragon, Darga, and Jik will travel to the highlands, through the Olden way, and go straight across the White Valley to the mountain pass, being careful to avoid the Druid’s encampment,” Brydda said.
“The Olden way is poisonous,” Domick objected.
In answer, Brydda pointed to Darga. “I grew up in this district, and I know of this pass. It is badly tainted in some parts, but there are parts that are tainted so little as to be harmless. And that is where Darga comes in. I have seen with my own eyes that he can tell poisoned substances from clean ones. Therefore, he will be your guide. Only you have to go on foot. The Older way is passable only on foot.”
“If you are right about this pass, it is a good plan, and it may be our only opportunity to reach Obernewtyn in time to warn Rushton before snow closes the pass.”
“I’ll go,” Domick said.
I shook my head. “You have an important job to do. Find out as much as you can of the Council’s intensions, but keep out of Ariel’s way. If you remember him, you can be sure he’ll remember you.”
“What about the Druid?” Kella asked.
I grinned. “We know that the settlement is some distance away from the encampment. I will farsense to make sure we do not encounter anyone. And if we find our way blocked, I’ll have Dragon frighten anyone away.”
The others laughed, including Dragon, who, though she did not understand what we were saying, seemed to find laughter itself funny.
“Rushton will never forgive me for letting you go into danger,” Domick groaned.
Ignoring this, I suggested we set off at first light. Brydda would take us to the start of the Olden way, and then he would return to the others and wait until the soldierguards had searched Katlyn and Grufyyd’s farmstead before going to Sutrium. Brydda gave me careful instructions about how to contact him in Sutrium, and then we parted in the cold, gray light of the very early morning. It was painful to say goodbye to Pavo, knowing it might be the last time I would see him. I could not hug him, because any sort of pressure was unbearable for him. He was delirious most of the time now, and he blinked at me in a puzzled way, as if his memory were disintegrating.
“He is content,” Brydda said gently when we had left the camp behind.
“That’s what Darga said. But I’m not content. What a world this is that someone like Pavo has to die so young,” I said.
“People will always be dying too young, whether in the Beforetime or now. That is the way of the world.”
It took less than an hour to reach the fall of rocks that Brydda said concealed the opening to the Olden way. My feet were already hurting, though we had traveled at an easy pace.
Before leaving Brydda hugged us all tightly. Dragon, who liked the big man, cried unself-consciously. Darga wagged his tail slowly. Last of all, Brydda looked at me seriously. “Be careful, little sad eyes; your trials are not yet over. But I expect to see you in the spring.”
After he had gone, I straightened myself, determinedly throwing off a wave of depression. I took a deep breath and started to climb, instructing Jik and Dragon to stay close behind Darga. Once we reached the top of the rockfall, I was disheartened to realize we would have to climb down the other side before we could begin the ascent to the pass entrance.
It took us a considerable time to get down to the opening, and we were all dirty, grazed, and exhausted before we reached the narrow slit in the rock, which would barely fit a full-grown man. Thick vines had grown across it like a net, and some sort of spider had made a web in them. It was years since Brydda had last gone there, and I suspected nothing had passed that way since, for the webs were intricate and many layered, and covered in thick dust.
Dragon would not go through until she was certain none of the cobwebby tendrils would touch her.
It was late in the morning when we finally stood inside the Olden way. Darga sniffed, saying he scented no poisons in the vicinity.
Dry reedy grasses made a papery, whispering noise as we made our way up the incline. It was not as steep as the rockfall, but my feet ached with the strain of digging in for purchase. The trees growing in that early section were stunted, with spiky grayish leaves and stonelike buds, but ahead we could see a dark-green belt of trees. On either side of us, the mountains soared straight up, pitted gray walls.
It was an arduous climb to the tree line, and we were all puffing by the time we reached it. I was disappointed to find the ground did not level out—the trees had only given that illusion. It was darker beneath the canopy of entwined branches and leaves, and an eerie silence reigned that reminded me of the Silent Vale, where I had gone to collect whitestick as an orphan.
Jik worked to teach Dragon to say his name as we walked. I listened with only half an ear, preoccupied by a sudden feeling of unease. When we came out of the trees, I noticed the sky had darkened.
After a short distance, the now sparse trees gave way to a high, thick kind of bramble running before us in a solid barrier. It offered no natural paths and was filled with stinging thorns. That meant we had to use knives to hack our way through. The severed branch ends leaked a defensive odor that made our eyes sting.
It took more than an hour to bypass the brambles. On the other side was a narrow, very deep gorge cutting directly across our path; at the bottom ran a tumultuous course of water. The stream and the gorge appeared to run all the way from Tor to Aran Craggie. I thought it quite likely the stream was a tributary of the Suggredoon, escaping through some crack from inside the mountain. It was too wide to jump; the only way to cross was to descend into the trench and swim the stream.
We wasted another hour trying to find a less steep descent but, in the end, returned to the original spot to climb down. The stream was overhung with a thick, trailing fringe of creepers and vines, but the bank on both sides proved treacherously soft. I stared into the water, glumly wondering how we would manage to get across safely. Up close, the water ran very fast, and Dragon eyed it fearfully.
“I will swim with a rope in my teeth,” Darga sent. “On the other side, I will pass the rope around a tree and hold it tight. Jik can cross first since he weighs little; then he can tie it.”
I looked at the opposite bank doubtfully. “All right. But I’ll tie the rope around you and hold the other end so that I can pull you back if you get into trouble.”
At first, Darga disappeared completely beneath the roaring water. But a moment later, he bobbed to the surface and struck out for the other bank. The current was so strong that he had to swim at an angle that made it look as if he were trying to make his way upstream like a salmon. He crept forward,
drawing fractionally nearer the opposite bank.
By the time he reached the edge, he was clearly tiring badly, but the ordeal was not over. I watched in consternation as he tried to scale the soft edges of the bank. Time and again the earth gave way, plunging him back into the raging water.
“Pull him back,” Jik cried fearfully. “He’s drowning!”
“No,” Darga sent, his mind an exhausted whisper. The soft banks were deeply gouged before he managed at last to get a firm footing. I could see his body trembling with weariness as he dragged himself over the lip.
“Darga!” Jik shouted through his tears. Darga flapped his tail weakly twice, then lay like one dead for a long time.
When he had recovered, Darga walked around a tree several times and braced himself. I tugged my own end to test the strength of Brydda’s rope, then fastened it to a stout tree trunk, pulling the rope taut.
Jik went across hand over hand. The rope creaked and sagged until he hung waist-deep in the water, but it held. He reached the other side safely and gave a triumphant yell before untying the rope from Darga and fastening it around a rock. I had thought I might have to knock Dragon out and somehow pull her across, but watching Jik seemed to have given her confidence. She was pale but surprisingly calm, and when I saw her cross, I realized it was because she had thought of a way to make sure the water did not touch her. She, too, went across hand over hand but with her legs hooked around the rope, too. She had been less frightened of the crossing than of the water itself.
I went last, half sorry I could think of no way to untie the rope. It was the only piece we had and might be needed again.
I was further disheartened at our lack of progress. Unless the way became easier, we were wasting valuable time negotiating endless obstacles. Climbing out of the trench was harder than getting down into it, and at the top, I decided it was time to rest and eat.
Jik lit a small fire, and I set a pot of soup to cook over it. While we waited, Jik softly sang a strange song the Herders had taught him about the Blacklands. He had a remarkably sweet voice and at my request sang songs until the food was hot enough to eat.
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