by Tad Williams
Tariki Clearsight and those sent to help him now reached the road. “I have two more wounded, Lord Hakatri,” Tariki called as the armigers lifted the two limp figures from his saddle. “Rukiyo and Uaye. Both are sorely hurt with many broken bones, and Uaye has lost much blood.”
“Ah!” said my master, groaning. “By the Garden this has been a terrible day. Yohe and Lilumo dead, so many others sorely hurt.” For a moment he fell silent, overwhelmed. Then his head came up, as though he heard some distant horn sounding, and his expression hardened. “We must hasten back to Asu’a as swiftly as we can. Uaye and the other wounded need healers, and the Protector and Sa’onsera must know of the monster we found as soon as we can reach them, but my Witness is lost somewhere in that foul swamp.” Without his speaking-glass made from a dragon’s scale, we could only send a mounted messenger, which would take days.
“Do as you wish,” said Ineluki. “But I will not return to Asu’a.”
Hakatri gave him a strange look, half anger, half concern. “It is necessary, brother, but do not fear—Yohe and the rest will be avenged, I promise you. We will come back with a larger company to destroy that evil creature.”
“Still,” said Ineluki, but nothing more. I could make no sense of that.
Tariki limped over to join my master. “It is a long journey back to Asu’a, Hakatri. Two full days at least, but likely more, because we have lost several horses and those who were badly hurt must be carried.”
Hakatri did not answer, but I could read the misery on his face. “It will be as it will be,” he said at last. “But we can wait no longer.”
“Perhaps we should take the wounded to Silverhome instead,” suggested Tariki. “It is closer than Asu’a, and Lord Enazashi will have many healers.”
Ineluki was pacing beside his horse. “Talk, talk, and more talk. Yohe is dead! And as we waste time on this useless talk, more folk will suffer and die!”
“There is always time to make a good choice instead of a bad one,” my master said.
Ineluki climbed back into his saddle, glowering. “Then make a choice, brother,” he said. “My failure is terrible enough even if all the wounded can be healed. I cannot stand to see any more deaths—I fear I will go mad if I do.”
“Your pardon, my lords,” said Cormach, coming to join them, “but I remind you that Enazashi of Silverhome told us he wanted nothing to do with any hunt for the dragon.”
“The worm had not killed any Zida’ya then,” said Tariki. “And surely in any case he would not deny help to poor Uaye and the rest of our wounded.”
“Even so,” Hakatri said, “it will be too long and too hard a ride up into the mountains, I think.” I had seldom seen my master appear so defeated. “And you have many injured men of your own, Prince Cormach, do you not? Lord Enazashi is moody at the best of times and does not like mortals. He might refuse to help you.” He shook his head. “We could go to Dunyadi, who is a strong friend of Year-Dancing Clan. His house on Birch Hill is only a few hours away from here. I know he would welcome us, and quite possibly the mortals too, but his household is small and I think he may only have one healer.”
“What about Skyglass Lake?” Cormach asked.
Hakatri looked up, as startled as if he had been slapped. “Of course! It is only a few short hours farther from here than Dunyadi’s house. But will your people be welcome there?”
Cormach nodded. “We often trade with the Sithi of Skyglass Lake.”
I was confused. “I do not know that name. Who are these Sithi?”
“That is only our own Hernsman word for your master’s Zida’ya folk,” Cormach told me. “Lady Vinadarta rules over a Zida’ya settlement in the foothills beside Silverhome Mountain. We often trade with them.”
“Do they have enough healers?” Tariki asked.
“Yes, and I do not doubt they will help my wounded men as well as yours. We consider Vinadarta a friend.”
“Your idea is a good one, Prince Cormach.” Some of my master’s resolve had returned. “We will ride east, to Skyglass Lake.”
We gathered up the fallen we had been able to carry out of Serpent’s Vale, mortal and immortal, wounded and dead, and did our best to make those who still lived, comfortable for the journey. More bodies still lay back in that terrible swamp, but we could do nothing for them while the monster lived.
As we rode away, I prayed to the Garden that my master’s people would be able to recover all the dead someday and give them an honorable burial. But I also hoped that I, myself, would never have to return to that place.
* * *
• • •
The land between the Silver Way and Skyglass Lake wound through hills but was not too steep, with open, level track in many places. Our horses made good time despite their unusually heavy burdens. As I rode, I looked around at the trees bursting with new green leaves and wondered that the world could still seem so vital and full of promise on a day so drenched in horror.
The sun, which had not reached noon when we staggered out of Serpent’s Vale, was sliding down behind the mountains by the time we passed between two high, craggy hills and into a long valley being swiftly overrun by twilight. Ineluki had fallen back to ride by himself, but my master and Tariki and the mortal prince led the company on at great speed. Slender Skyglass Lake, its silvery waters now gone dark with day’s end, stretched for almost a league along the base of the Sunstep Mountains. Soon we saw the settlement, and even by twilight it surprised me. It did not look like any Zida’ya city I had yet seen: the homes and other structures were not made from stone or even wood, but out of colorful fabric stretched between trees, with nothing more solid than pickets of bundled reeds to be seen anywhere. The walls of these unsolid constructions waved and fluttered in every breeze, so that the place seemed more a garden of giant flowers than a place where anyone would live.
“Why does it look as though they have just arrived?” I asked.
“Make no mistake, Vinadarta’s folk have lived here by the lake for many Great Years,” my master told me. “But they make their homes the way all our folk did when the Eight Ships first arrived in these lands, so that an entire city might be carried on the backs of its citizens.”
As we drew closer to the settlement, Tariki called out that he could see a group of riders coming to meet us. I could not see them through the lengthening shadows, but soon enough Tariki was proved right: some two dozen Zida’ya were hastening toward us. Lord Hakatri raised his hand and our company reined up to wait for them.
The leader was female, and though she looked young, she seemed to control both her horse and her followers with ease. She halted them with a gesture but continued forward by herself.
“Surely that is not Vinadarta,” said Tariki.
“That is Vinaju, her daughter, my lord,” Cormach told him. “But I have seldom seen her so serious or warlike.” He lifted his hands high so the approaching rider could see them. Vinaju wore a chestplate of witchwood and carried a spear in her hand. “Lady Vinaju, hail!” he called. “It is Cormach of Hernsland, and several of your own folk are with me!”
“This is an unexpected sight,” said Vinaju as she reined up a few paces away from my master and the others, smiling broadly. “Lord Hakatri? Is that truly you, riding with the Hernsmen?”
“It is,” he said. “And this is my comrade, Tariki Clearsight. My brother Ineluki is with us, too. We were attacked by a monstrous worm and have lost several of our number. We bring wounded with us, too, some of them very badly hurt.”
Vinaju’s smile was gone in an instant. “Then let us waste no time. Follow me.” She turned and we spurred after her.
Within a very short time we passed in among the rippling cloth walls of the Skyglass settlement. The inhabitants came out to meet us with greetings that quickly turned to cries of sorrow when they saw the state of our company. The wounded were hurried off to the hou
ses of healers and the dead were reverently carried elsewhere.
To be truthful, I remember little more of that evening. When all who needed swift care had been dealt with, Vinaju led the rest of us to a great, billowing hall to meet with her mother, Lady Vinadarta. The white-haired mistress of Skyglass Lake was tall and spoke in a low, strong voice, but I was seated too far away to hear what she said. I was so exhausted and sore that I remember little of what I ate or drank, or how my master and the others told the story of what had happened in that cursed valley. At last, my master Hakatri noticed me nodding in weariness and bade me go sleep.
One of Vinadarta’s household led me to a pallet in the tentlike room where my master would stay. Once I lay down I quickly fell into a deep slumber. I was too tired to dream and that was a blessing.
* * *
• • •
“I told you, I am not going back to Asu’a, brother.” Ineluki shook his head, his face as stiffly inexpressive as a festival mask. I had seen him smolder into anger or leap into joy many times, but this occasion seemed different. “If you want to carry the grim news to our parents, you may do so. I swore in front of all our people to kill the worm. I cannot return home until the beast is dead.”
Ineluki and the other survivors of our company had gathered in Hakatri’s tentlike chamber, where the morning light made the walls glow with color. My master had proposed we ride home that day, leaving the wounded here at Skyglass Lake until they were well enough to return on their own, but Ineluki’s words surprised everyone.
“What madness is this?” Hakatri demanded. “You saw Hidohebhi with your own eyes, brother. This creature is the spawn of Khaerukama’o the Great, who killed thousands! Three score of mounted warriors might be enough to give the Blackworm a moment’s pause, but only a dozen of us remain fit to fight—our armigers included in that number. We cannot hope to attack it again without help. In any case, this news must get back to Asu’a to tell the families of the fallen what happened here.”
“Go then and tell them.” Ineluki did not even look at him. “I cannot. I will not. We all know it was my pride, my headstrong foolishness, that caused this disaster.” He paused, then lifted his right hand in the sign for a pledge. “Heed me, all of you. I swear by my ancestors and by the Garden itself that I will not return to Asu’a until the Blackworm is dead.”
A stunned hush fell over the gathered Zida’ya. I felt a clutch of icy despair.
“Ill thought, and worse spoken aloud,” Hakatri told his brother. “I wish you had never said such a thing.”
“But I did,” Ineluki replied. “Still, it is my oath, not yours, brother. You may do as you think best.”
My master shook his head. “Such oaths often turn to curses,” was all he said, but I could see that he was worried, even fearful.
Tariki and the others begged Ineluki to take back his pledge, but he would not be moved. I had seen this obstinate streak in him before, but never in such terrible circumstances. Hakatri, too, tried to persuade him, but even his most heartfelt plea could not change his brother’s mind, though it did finally drive him from Hakatri’s chamber.
When Ineluki had gone, my master was bleak. “I cannot leave him here alone. He is too full of shame over the deaths of our kin. Soon enough his thoughts will turn to redeeming his mistake, and he will go back to try to kill the Great Worm—by himself if no one else is with him. Then he will meet his death.” He turned to me. “I should have listened more carefully to Briseyu’s fears. I too have been a fool.”
“But no matter anyone’s fault, you were right in what you told your brother,” Tariki protested. “We are too few. If we hunt the worm, we all will die.”
“Go back to Asu’a, old friend,” Hakatri told him. “Tell my father to send warriors to help us.”
Tariki gave him a doubting look. “And while I try to convince them, leave you behind to follow Ineluki into the swamp? Because you know when this mood is on him he will go wherever his temper leads.”
“If only we could find a company nearby that would be large enough to have a chance against Hidohebhi,” said Hakatri.
“Remember, Lord Dunyadi’s house is close by,” said Shuda, my master’s niece, who was one of his newer hunting comrades. “We could look for help there.”
“Dunyadi’s household is small.” Hakatri stood. “But there are many of our folk here at Spyglass Lake, and Lady Vinadarta is wise. I will speak to her.”
The mistress of the Skyglass Lake settlement was taking her morning meal, but graciously invited my master and Tariki to join her. I was not specifically mentioned, but I stayed with my master and one of Vinadarta’s folk set out a plate for me as well. I ate bread and sweet butter while my master described his dilemma.
“So you wish to mount a battle company without returning to Asu’a?” She frowned. “I have only just dispatched a large number of our warriors to the east three days past—large by our standards, that is, not by Asu’a’s. Giants are in the Limberlight.”
“We know,” said my master. “That is where we were also bound before my brother took it into his head to seek out the Blackworm.”
“The company I sent was less than a dozen strong, in any case,” she said. “Not enough to kill such a dread creature as your worm, even if they were still here.” Vinadarta seemed genuinely regretful. “I cannot help you, I fear, Hakatri. Not until they return, which will not be until the moon changes, I think.”
Hakatri closed his eyes for a moment as if his very thoughts pained him, then suddenly opened them again. “Enazashi!” he said. “The lord of Silverhome has more than enough warriors.”
Vinadarta’s long, thin face showed doubt. “But would he help you? He has little love for your parents or Asu’a, and Prince Cormach tells me he already refused the mortals when they asked for his aid against the worm.”
“But we are not mortals—we are his kin,” said my master. “It will do no harm to ask. And in any case, it will keep my brother’s mind occupied for a little while. I will go and tell him. We can reach Mezutu’a’s Southern Gate by tomorrow evening.”
“If you are determined to go, there is a swifter way,” said Vinadarta. “I will have my daughter lead you by a hidden passage to Silverhome’s Eastern Gate instead.” She sent one of her folk to fetch Vinaju.
The young Zida’ya soon appeared in her mother’s chamber. She had taken the war-braids out of her hair, which now fell like a veil across her shoulders. Her armor put away, she now wore the same rough clothing as the other Skyglass Zida’ya. “Yes, Mother?”
“Please lead Lord Hakatri to Silverhome’s Eastern Gate. You know the way.”
“As you wish,” her daughter said. “Shall we go now?”
Hakatri rose and bowed to Vinadarta. “I thank you for all your kindnesses, Mistress, but first I must convince my brother to accompany us.” He turned to Vinaju. “We will be ready to leave at mid-morning.”
“I will be waiting,” Vinaju told him with a confident smile. Seeing it, I thought, Here is one who craves a little adventure.
When the sun had risen above the eastern hills, we set out—on foot, this time. My master, his grim-faced brother, and I followed blue-haired Vinaju along rough and often hidden paths at the base of the high hills that edged one side of Skyglass Lake. We kept close to the water’s edge until we approached the end of the lake. I did not understand how this could be a swifter way to Mezutu’a, and even my master looked puzzled, but Vinadarta’s blue-haired daughter led us along the lake’s marshy rim until we had reached its eastern end.
The noon sun was above us when we halted at last in a loud place. Here the lake ended in a roiling pool where twin rivers crashed down from the heights and joined to form a single cataract that fed Skyglass Lake. Vinaju led us to a small wharf in a backwater just beyond the churning white waters. The rounded, shallow-drafted boats tied there looked strange to me: instead of be
ing open to the sky, even the smallest of the crafts had curved roofs of lacquered bark held up by slender wooden posts.
Ineluki pointed at the covered boats. “Do we look as though we fear the sun, lakechild?”
Vinaju grinned at him. “Your words tell me you have never traveled the Fernlight Passage before, my lord.” She gestured to one of the smaller craft. “Come aboard, please, Lord Ineluki, Lord Hakatri. You too, Armiger.”
When we were all in the boat, my master asked if he and his brother should help row. Vinaju shook her head. “I thank you, but I fear despite all your wisdom and skill you would do more harm than good. Wait and see what I do, then you will understand. Do not let your pride be hurt, I beg you.”
My master smiled, saying, “It is not, and I see no reason it should be.” But I thought Ineluki did not look so certain.
To my surprise, Vinaju did not use a paddle at all, but picked up a long pole from the bottom of the boat and pushed us away from the landing through a thickening cloud of mist and spume, directly toward the roaring cataract. This seemed almost fatally foolhardy to me, but my master looked unworried, so I did my best to match him. Our small craft bobbed and rolled in the seething waters, but Vinadarta’s daughter used the long pole to keep it from ever rolling too far.
I quickly saw why Vinaju had kept the task of steering for herself. As we drew nearer to the thundering wall of water, she began to use the staff like a long arm, guiding us between one hidden stone, then another, all invisible beneath the turbulent foam as we bobbed ever closer to the waterfall. The morning sun was high now, and rainbows floated in the spray, making me think of the Third Garden Poet who called such things “Light singing itself into different hues.” Just as it seemed we must founder beneath the downrushing waters, Vinaju dropped into a crouch, found the bottom of the river below the surface with the end of her pole, then bent her back and with one graceful push sent us into the cataract itself.
The sound of water crashing on the boat’s frail roof was deafening, and I was certain any moment it would break and smash down on us, or the sheer force of the water would plunge us down into the swirling maelstrom. Instead, before my heart had beat a dozen times, the thunder in our ears diminished, then an instant later the boat stopped wallowing and began to float as gently as a leaf. We had passed through the waterfall and into a cavern that lay hidden behind it.