by Andre Norton
It would be equally impractical to dig out through the crust and then try to crawl across it. The weakened gravel would no more support him now than it had on the previous day.
He shook his head as if to deny what he knew must be his course. To make good his escape, he must come up on the fairly solid mound and then leap from there to firm rock.
It was a long jump, frightening because his life was at hazard, but far from an impossible one. He knew he had matched and bettered it on a number of occasions before and had scarcely given the feat much thought.
The work went very slowly for the relatively small amount of material to be moved. He could probably have safely hurried himself a little since the stuff seemed to be holding together reasonably well, but he had come so far now at the cost of so much labor that he did not want to risk everything for the sake of a few additional minutes.
Carefully, infinitely carefully, he scraped away the imprisoning soil until at last, the final layer crumbled under his cautious blows and the vast blue sky shone above him.
Tarlach cried out in the same moment and threw his hands over his eyes. He crouched down, shielding his face in his arms until the tearing stopped. Very gradually, he allowed more and more of the light to reach his eyes, giving them the time they needed to adjust to what was now a dazzling glare.
He tried to imagine what would have happened if he had been closed in complete darkness all these hours and could only shake his head. He would probably have been blinded, at least temporarily.
When he could at last bear the daylight once more, the Captain wriggled up out of the pit onto the solid mass of the debris that had choked it.
He lay there a moment, glorying in the feel of moving air on his skin. He laughed aloud when the chill of it began to bite through his sweat-soaked clothing. All that hard work had kept him warm if nothing else!
The man sobered abruptly. He felt the touch of hysteria in himself and forced his mood to quieten. He was not free yet, not by a long ride.
He looked about him and became very grave all at once. The border between brittle crust and true roof which had been so clearly marked underground was invisible up here. Everything looked the same, and even the chaos wrought by the landslide did not show clearly where safety began and danger ended. He must depend upon memory and, to a certain extent, on his sense of direction since the edge between stone and gravel was most uneven.
His hand reached for the waterskin, more a nervous gesture than the prompting of thirst, but when he felt the first touch of the liquid upon his lips, he recorked the flask and returned it to its place on his belt. If he fell again and lived, he just might want to try repairing any damage done to his mound-ladder and make another attempt at freeing himself. The sight of the open sky made suicide seem a far less attractive prospect than it had been in the dark of the tunnel below.
His eyes swept the ground in the direction he knew he must leap, trying to discover some clue by which he could gauge his distance.
He could find nothing, nothing at all.
Tarlach grinned suddenly and stepped back several paces. Better go too far than spare himself and wind up in the pit again, he thought as he started running as fast as he could on the loose soil. He launched himself from the relative safety of the mound.
Once airborne, it seemed that he could never reach his goal, that so weak a spring could carry him no farther than the flimsy center of the crust.
He was down again before he could begin to panic, scrabbling desperately for a hold on the blessedly solid ground.
Partly solid. That beneath his right leg gave way, taking much of what was around it down as well. He felt himself begin to slide, but his fingers had clawed into firmer ground and held while he fought his way up, crawling until he had reached a place unmarred by any sign of collapse.
The man just lay there while his heart resumed something of its normal beat. He was filled with the rapture of being alive and free, and he was content to remain still and wonder at the miracle of it all.
As the intensity of the emotion ebbed enough for rational thought to regain its customary control, his mind approved of that course lest his very relief betray him into further danger.
At last, when he felt rested and reasonably calm once more, he arose and cautiously began his descent from that high and perilous place.
Storm Challenger's cry of joy drove all awareness of her weariness from the Lady Una. Her hand clamped down on the falcon lest he be tempted to try his as yet unhealed wing, but she touched her heels to Eagle's sides. The winged one had his trail now, and she, in turn, had hers.
Then she needed no guide. Tarlach was there, riding toward them. He was incredibly dirty and one wing of his helmet was bent nearly double, but he sat straight in Lady Gay's saddle and seemed to have no difficulty in doing so.
She did not need the bird's eager, impatient demands to spur her forward, nor did either of the others, and they all reached the Falconer nearly in the same moment.
His astonishment at seeing them was complete, but the Holdruler only shrugged at his question. “Your winged brother was concerned, and we took his worry seriously, apparently with good cause. What happened?”
“I met with the Ghost Child. …”
Pyra gave a small moan, and her hand flew to her mouth, while Jerro turned his head aside.
Una of Seakeep made no sound, but her face changed to the color of death, not so much white as gray, and her lord knew the heart had gone out of her.
The Falconer quickly reached over to her. His hands closed on hers as she gripped her reins with convulsive, unfeeling force.
“Curse me for the fool that I am! I have taken no hurt, nor shall I now, I think.”
He glanced at the other two. “The decay strikes quickly, does it not, within the hour Aden told us, yet it was the middle of last night or very early this morning when I encountered the spirit. Also, I heard nothing of the crying which is supposed to accompany her attack.”
“You are right, Bird Warrior,” Jerro replied, “but how did you escape, once having met her?”
The battered helmet lowered. “Pardon craved,” he said, “both for my unthinking callousness just now and for asking your indulgence a while longer, until we are with Ouen. He and some of the others should hear this as well, and I am weary enough not to want to go through it more than the once.”
None of the four said much on their return. All of them were tired, and all were engrossed in their own thoughts.
Tarlach's free hand stayed with his falcon, gently caressing and reassuring him, but his head was bowed and his mind obviously far distant.
Una paced him, keeping her mount close to his. Guilt and grief for what might yet come to pass filled her heart, and she could not keep from studying him, seeking for sign of the dissolution the deadly haunt had always before brought with her.
At last, he felt her eyes on him and turned to her, smiling faintly. The fear on her was not difficult to guess.
“I think I am truly sound, Lady, apart from being bruised on every inch.” His eyes shadowed then, and his voice both tightened and lowered still further. “If … if it turns out that I am not, that …”
“You will be allowed to go,” she replied. “As a man. This do I swear.” Her head raised, and she made herself smile. “I believe that you are right, though, that however you did it, you have escaped the spirit's blight.”
By pressing their horses hard, the four reached Lormt again before the setting of the sun. Weariness ate into their very bones, but they went at once to Ouen's chamber where Duratan and Aden waited with the aged scholar. There, the Falconer Captain at last told his story.
He omitted mention of his fear, of how he had shamed himself when night had closed over him, but of his meeting with the Ghost Child, he withheld no detail that remained in his memory, although he spoke with a low voice and a flush marring what could be seen of his face. His role had not been that which would have been expected of one of his race.
He concluded with his theory concerning Adeela's condition and what might have caused her release, and after answering the few questions his account had left unanswered, he took his leave of his audience, wanting nothing more than to wash the grime of the underworld from himself and seek the peace of his bed.
Dead silence filled the small room for several minutes after he had gone, then the others went as well, leaving Ouen to take his own rest.
Una slowly made her way to her chamber, her heart sick and heavy with consciousness of the doom her lord had so narrowly escaped. She was completely absorbed in her grim thoughts, with Tarlach's danger and her total failure to meet it despite the warning she had received, and she started like a young maid when Pyra came suddenly up beside her.
The Falconer woman apologized but only walked quietly with her until they reached Una's door. There she straightened, throwing off the weariness bowing her shoulders. “I have made my decision, Una of Seakeep. I will go to High Hallack with you and your Mountain Hawk.”
10
“Rise up, Captain, or do you intend to sleep your life away?”
Tarlach turned onto his back in response to the familiar voice and groaned as his battered muscles protested the sudden movement.
“Brennan! When did you arrive?”
“Not long ago.” The Lieutenant sat on the edge of his bed. “You have been busy by the sound of it. Battling Dark-bred killer hounds, laying a ghost. You appear to be making a habit out of this business of becoming a local hero.”
“Where did you hear about all that?”
“Everyone around here seems to be so excited by your adventures that even our appearance has lost its chilling effect. One old fellow by the name of Morfew accosted us as we dismounted with a rather disjointed account of both affairs. We were finally rescued by another local who looked more like a tradesman than a scholar but was as well-spoken as any of the others. He gave us a fuller and more comprehensive report.”
“That would be Jerro.” The Captain felt a moment's unease, but he was not usually a bad judge of a man, and he did not believe Aden's brother would have revealed details he would realize were a source of discomfort to his subject.
He threw his blanket aside and sat up, braving the chill of the room air.
Brennan's eyes fixed on the bruises purpling his chest and arms. “What in the Horned Lord's name happened to you?”
“I fell into a pit, remember?—It is not a matter for laughter, Lieutenant.”
“No,” his comrade conceded with a broad grin, “but I cannot help recalling your pride in the fact that you are supposed to be the best rock weasel in the company.”
“Perhaps that is why I am still here to endure your abuse,” he retorted calmly.
The Captain suddenly became aware of Storm Challenger's soft crooning and shot a quick glance at him. He expected to see him fussing over his mate but instead found him introducing himself to a fine young male falcon, who, upon feeling the direction of the man's gaze, was quick to give him the salute of his kind.
He looked to Brennan in puzzlement. “Where is Sunbeam?”
The other lowered his eyes to conceal the hurt in them. “Winged Warrior followed me almost as soon as I entered the camp, and she just left me, as if I were nothing to her at all.—No, that is not true, but she did freely give me up to him.”
“I am sorry, my friend,” he said softly. “It has always been different with the females.”
That was so. Until the Eyrie fell, they would not even follow a man and had only consented to do so now in some of the columns in order to remain near their mates and assure a nesting each year—adapting to altered conditions as their slower human comrades were just beginning to consider doing. Their linking with their chosen warriors was not as powerful as that which developed between male and male. The fall of one was deeply mourned by the other, but neither man nor female bird died following the loss of the other partner, and there were usually several widows in the company. These normally eventually chose to pair with another Falconer, although no pressure to do so was put on them, often saving the man's life or restoring his sanity as a result, or else helping by their experience to ease a young warrior's assimilation into the veteran fighting unit.
Their comparative aloofness was not difficult to understand. Once, female falcons had paired with the women of his race, but they had severed that contact with Jonkara's coming in order to preserve their kind from her control. It was to have been a temporary break, and the female birds had fought with their male counterparts to aid the men and the unchained women in their efforts to win free of her hold, but their desertion, however needful, had gone far in breaking their former partners’ spirit, thereby in a sense temporarily aiding the Dark One's cause. It had also been the example upon which the surviving men had drawn when they had sought the means by which they might defend themselves against future domination.
“She remained in the camp?” Tarlach asked after a moment.
“No. Sunbeam accompanied us back to Lormt, where she promptly bonded with our employer.”
“What?”
“There is no blame on the Lady. We can all swear to that, stunned as we were. We witnessed the whole thing. It had taken place before she so much as realized what was happening.”
“This we did not need,” he muttered. He had known Una could speak with the war birds but had not even thought to consider this possibility, that one of them would choose to fly and fight with her, especially since she already had Bravery.
He reached for his clothes, which had been neatly laid out for him on the table. All had been cleaned and repaired, he noted, as had his helmet, and his other battle gear had been restored to good order. He must have been well out not to have roused when they had been removed and returned again. Storm Challenger, of course, recognized the intruder and his purpose and had raised no alarm.
“I shall have to see the Holdruler, and with no delay.”
The other eyed him in some amusement. “You might as well use her name,” he remarked. “The rest of us do amongst ourselves. It is too cumbersome to keep playing with titles.” The lightness left his mood, and he became deadly serious. “You should know this, Tarlach. The company met and voted before our departure from Seakeep, all of us, with unanimous result. We want another Eyrie as well, and we want it in the place you have chosen. Whatever the Warlord and the other Commandants decide, we stand with you.”
Tarlach started to shake his head, but Brennan went on quickly. “Five hundred men. It is not what you want, but neither is it the handful or part companies that have already split off in the hope of fashioning some permanent place for themselves or for all of us again. They cannot succeed in bringing us back to what we were, but with luck, we might just be able to accomplish our ends and preserve our kind as more than a remnant.”
“Not without women,” he reminded him.
“That, too, we discussed. Seakeep is man-poor, and its people have no more desire than we do to wither into oblivion. Perhaps some arrangement could be worked out with them, Dalesfolk though they be. We are not mates so strange, after all, as were the Were Riders.
“The resulting offspring would be different from either of our peoples, but they might be the stronger for that, and we should be able to hold what is most basic to us. Then, too, the mixing of our blood might just bring us out of range of Jonkara's power entirely so that we need never dread her awakening again.”
“Truly,” his commander said with a sigh, “but if we are forced to ride that road, I fear we shall face even heavier compromises than we would with our own.” Tarlach shrugged. This might all be a moot question. “I may not live long enough to begin negotiations if the judgment goes badly against me.”
“Then I will assume command and our work with it, and Rorick is prepared to take up our cause should I be felled along with you.—Do not look so surprised, my friend. You are not the only one concerned about the fate of the Falconer race or the only one willing
to risk himself in our cause.”
The Captain's head lowered. “I stand corrected. I have undervalued you, all of you. For that, I crave pardon.”
“Ah, you just fell victim to your usual habit of trying to assume the whole burden yourself. I only spoke of it now so that you would know you did not stand utterly alone.”
Tarlach was more powerfully moved than he would have wanted even this close comrade to guess, but he was chilled as well. “You believe I will have a need to know it?” he asked quietly. “Was Varnel's reception so cold?”
It was impossible to imagine that the Falconer Warlord had not learned of his acquisition of Ravenfield and the circumstances surrounding its conquest. Elfthorn and the other Sulcar he had saved would have carried the tale to Estcarp even without the report of their own warriors, some of whom would have returned here since those events had occurred. Every Falconer in High Hallack had probably learned of it all within a couple of months after the attack he had led. His own identity would be readily guessed by the size of his company.
“Cold, no, but neither was he minded to be very communicative, at least not with a lowly Lieutenant.”
“The treaty with Seakeep?” Tarlach asked sharply. That he wanted to describe himself, before rumor had any play with it.
Brennan shook his head. “He said nothing about that, and I doubt he knows of it. We have kept that pretty close, and you can be assured that I volunteered no information not required of me. I was happy just to escape out of his sight again as soon as I could.”
His commander smiled despite his concern. “Varnel is not so bad. His snarl is usually far more impressive than his snap with one of our own.”
“Perhaps, but you were the only fledgling he ever chose to name his son. The rest of us prefer to keep a sound distance between us and the good Commandant.” The blue-eyed warrior grew grave again in the next moment. “He asked if you planned to remain a Falconer or settle into the Dale as its lord and seemed even more pleased by my surprise that he should raise such a question than he was by my assurance that you had no thought of abandoning your people or company.”