“But surely all the things we bought today will win them over,” Shannon said, though her tone questioned her own words. “We must…”
“Hush!” hissed Raulea suddenly, pointing up at the sky. “Behold!”
Shannon looked and was startled to see a great white form soaring down out of the night sky, gleaming in the darkness as if lit by some internal power. Closer it came, and they could see it was indeed a winged horse, its hooves beating the air as if running upon some invisible road, its great wings spread but hardly moving. Down, down he swooped, circling the small lake, and all three of them cringed down in the thicket, hoping to avoid his sight.
The great creature flew low over the lake, its movements seeming in rhythm with the pan-pipes, and after circling one last time, it finally alighted directly beside the water, hardly a score of yards from where they lay hidden. He moved his head cautiously first to one side and then the other, checking his surroundings, but it was as if he found the sound of the pan-pipes reassuring. Apparently satisfied, he bent his head and began to drink.
“You’ve the Demon’s own luck!” Raulea breathed softly. “That’s none other than Gil-Gal-Som himself, the greatest of his kind. He’ll bear you to the ends of the earth in a single night; provided you meet his price.”
She got heavily to her feet and gathered her cloak around her, but she glanced back at them before leaving the cover of the thicket. “Remember. Stay here until I signal, and hold your tongues. One wrong word will launch him back into the heavens.”
With that, she walked slowly and calmly out into the open glen, the hood around her head, her arms wrapped protectively around her. There was the faintest sound of a sob or a sniff, as if the woman were crying. She was careful not to walk directly towards the creature but just off to one side, as if stumbling across it by accident as she wandered through the woods.
The pegasus lifted his head swiftly and struck the earth hard with his hooves in obvious warning. Raulea reacted as if startled, and slowly, she lowered her hood, the starlight glinting off a hint of tears on her cheeks.
“Praise the gods,” she said softly. “Could this be the answer to my prayers?”
The pegasus made no response, merely stood watching and waiting. Raulea seemed to take this as a positive sign.
“I am in distress,” she said, holding out her hands beseechingly, “and I have come seeking counsel here among the beauty of the trees. Oh, Father of the Pegasus, hear my plea. Endless leagues lie between this place and Llan Praetor in the eastern mountains. Only wings such as yours can make that journey in a single night.”
Gil-Gal-Som cocked his head slightly as if trying to see this strange human better.
“Llan Praetor is dangerous air,” a voice spoke, seeming to come from all around them. “The bones of many creatures lie scattered about its rocks. I have no wish to carry you there.”
“It is not I who need to travel,” Raulea answered.
She put her hands at her side, palms level with the ground, the pre-arranged sign. Immediately both Shannon and Jhan came slowly forward, moving carefully with their heads covered as they had been told. The pegasus struck the ground with his front hooves again and backed away a pace, though his wings remained folded on his back.
“The last human that I bore upon my back abused me cruelly at the end of the journey,” the creature said, though there was no sign of his lips moving. The words seemed to form in their minds without first entering their ears. “Now you wish that I should bear not one but two of your kind.”
“That is true,” Raulea answered. “But we are not all cruel. Or niggardly.”
She produced a leather sack and drew from it an endless silver chain of fine and intricate links, the metal glinting in the starlight. No reaction came from the pegasus except a long pause. Finally he said, “A fine tether for a silver neck. But I have no wish to find myself in chains.”
Raulea showed no surprise at this response, simply dangled the chain for a moment longer, letting it sparkle in the moonlight, then dropping it to the ground at the feet of the pegasus.
“How foolish of me,” she said, “to confuse an adornment with a tether. Perhaps I can find some trinket to make amends.”
She reached again into the sack, and this time, she pulled out a strange necklace of worked silver and tiny mirrors. When they had found it at one of the trading booths, Raulea had been ecstatic, insisting on buying it, though both Shannon and Jhan had been vaguely appalled by its cheap, gaudy appearance. Now, however, watching closely from the shelter of the thicket, Shannon felt she saw a real reaction from the pegasus, a shiver of interest, quickly repressed.
“A poor enough item it is,” Gil-Gal-Som said, his voice giving no hint of inflection. “Enough to apologize for the insult of the chain, perhaps. But nothing more.”
Shannon glanced at Jhan and saw he shared her concern. The creature’s words showed an interest, a willingness to bargain, but it also suggested a very high price. And they knew Raulea had only one more offering to dangle before him.
“Then behold a thing of real beauty,” she said, putting both her hands within the sack and letting it fall to the ground. Remaining in her palms were a pair of large silver horse brushes, their straps loped around her hands, and as the pegasus stared, she brushed them lightly together. Tiny sparks of power danced along the bristles, proving that the brushes were not only beautiful but magical as well.
A strange sound like an eagle’s cry only much deeper came from the throat of the pegasus at the sight, and Shannon smiled, knowing the creature was excited by this offering at least.
“A worthy gift,” the pegasus admitted, “though it takes the form of the combs men use to soothe their horses. But I will accept all three and bear one person where they will, even if it be to the foot of Llan Praetor itself.”
“But there are two who require passage,” Raulea said quickly. “Surely the great strength of Gil-Gal-Som can make light of two children. Both of them combined are still less than my weight.”
“For the three offerings, I shall bear one person,” the pegasus repeated, and there was a finality in his tone that convinced them all of his sincerity.
There was a moment of silence in the glen, and then Jhan leaned forward and said softly, “I’ll go, Shannon. You go back with Father Joshua and make your way to Duke’s Hall, and I’ll meet you there with your Father.”
A reasonable suggestion solving all the problems, but Shannon found herself balking. Her vision of her new purpose was still very dim, hardly more than a stirring in her heart and her mind, but she felt somehow certain that it led to Llan Praetor; and not to Duke’s Hall.
Without thinking, she came forward, passing a startled Raulea to stand directly before the pegasus. Gil-Gal-Som reared at her approach, his wings beating the air, threatening to take flight, but when she dropped the hood from her head and knelt meekly before him, he calmed again.
“Fair creature, I beg you humbly to give us aid,” she entreated him, her hands outstretched. “Our lives and the lives of many of our kind are in danger, and only the speed of your great wings can bring us all to safety. A being that has lived as long as you must have great depths of compassion within his heart. I feel strangely sure that if you grant this boon, there will be less slaughter and wailing in the lands beneath your wings, and the world can only be the sweeter as a result.”
For a long moment, the great silvery being studied her silently, its dark eyes locked on her, the words still seeming to echo in the glen. And then slowly, he came forward, towering above her, so close that she could feel the power that burned within him, and she met his stare steadily without flinching. He lowered his head and gently brushed against her golden hair.
“Daughter of Man, I hear your words,” Gil-Gal-Som said softly. “And I feel the pain and the power which gives them voice. Fate walks within your skin and hope within your heart. Both of you I shall bear this night, wherever you will, even if it be to the Caves of the Black Drago
ns.”
Even as he spoke, the silver chain, the mirrored necklace, and the magical brushes vanished each in turn, as if they were being absorbed into the very air. Gil-Gal-Som went to stand beside a high rock and patiently bid them mount.
“I wouldn’t have credited it, if I hadn’t seen with my own eyes,” Raulea said softly as they climbed the rock and cautiously mounted the great back. “Good speed to you, Fair One, wherever fate leads you. For never before has any maid won the heart of the Father of the Pegasus!”
Shannon had no time to spare for such thoughts, gingerly putting her hands on the base of the huge wings, and she was relieved when Gil-Gal-Som made no protest. Jhan locked his arms around her waist, and both of them gripped the great body with their legs. In an instant, the white wings made one majestic beat of the air, and though they felt nothing, they saw the ground falling away beneath them.
The pegasus might have the outward form of a horse, but they both realized in these first moments of flight that the two creatures were completely different. Gil-Gal-Som bore them with an ease that no horse could possibly match, the air a far gentler medium than the pounding of hooves on hard earth, and within minutes, they found their knees easing, lessening their grip as they instinctively trusted this wise and experienced master.
Upward they rose, up to where the stars and the clouds awaited them, and the air they breathed seemed fresher than any they had ever tasted before. Shannon gathered her courage and managed to look down, and she was stunned by how high they had come in only moments. Raulea was lost in the darkness, the trees no more than a child’s toys, and only the shimmering waters of the lake told her where the old woman still stood.
Then she turned and look forward into the endless darkness where, somewhere ahead, she knew her father walked.
* * * * *
The moon was spying down through wind-swept clouds, and the great bulk of Llan Praetor loomed before them in the darkness. Darius came to a halt, staring up at the castle he had traveled so many leagues to find, a sense of awe overwhelming him as he only now grasped the scale of the fortress before him. Llan Praetor was the entire top of the mountain, its walls the actual sheer cliffs of the peak, and Darius realized it must have been hollowed from the solid stone by some incredible labor or power. But more, even here at the castle’s foot, they were above the surrounding summits, proving that the original mountain of Llan Praetor must have been gigantic, dwarfing its fellow peaks and turning them into no more than foothills to its majesty.
Stone pillars carved by the ceaseless winds stood as guard towers at each corner, the very pinnacle of the mountain was the castle’s central keep, and the ragged battlements were built for use by giants. Darius could almost picture the boulders and lightning bolts that would rain down on the heads of any invaders who survived the scaling of the mountain. Llan Praetor was not just invulnerable, it was unassailable.
In the center of that great black mass, a single tiny light was gleaming, the only sign that the rock was not entirely lifeless.
“Come,” said Adella. “The only door is over this way.”
She began to lead him off to the right, but he hesitated, asking, “Shouldn’t we wait until daylight?”
“Dawn is more than eight hours off,” she answered with a shrug. “If you can spare the time, I’ll be happy to take some sleep.”
Darius sighed, both of them knowing that he could not spare a single hour let alone eight. But he couldn’t suppress the thought that Adella had arranged their travel to arrive in the dead of night, the time of thieves, and whatever she was planning would work better beneath the blanket of darkness. He shook the thought off, realizing again that there was nothing he could do at this point, and turned in the direction she indicated.
Oddly, Adella dallied for just a moment to let him draw even with her, the two of them walking side by side. Up ahead, he could just make out a darker patch in the rock wall, a small rectangle hardly larger than any common door rather than the huge gate which the castle seemed to merit.
Have caution, Inglorion, Sarinian said suddenly. We approach a wall of power.
And without saying a word, Adella reached out and gently put her hand on his arm, her touch so light that he barely noticed.
Understanding burst in upon him, all the puzzling pieces falling together in this one instant. She was counting on Sarinian’s power to carry them both through the wall of force! He kept walking, knowing his sudden insight was his only hope, yet not sure how to use it, for Adella’s cat-like quickness would follow any clumsy move he might make. Something of value, he told himself. Something of value to distract the woman for one critical instant. His thumb caressed the golden ring he wore on his left hand, and even as his mind rebelled at the thought, his heart warmed.
Casually, he slipped the gold ring from his finger and let it fall behind him. There was the faintest sound of metal hitting stone, and Darius swung around in some alarm, looking for the ring. Adella, too, turned instinctively, her sharp eyes catching the flash of gold as the ring rolled in the darkness down the slope towards the cliff, and she moved quickly to save it from being lost.
The moment her hand was off him, Darius threw himself forward against the invisible wall. There was a burst of pure white light around Sarinian in its scabbard, the sword breaking through the wall, but oddly, Darius felt as if the barrier was opening for him of its own accord. Yielding to him. Welcoming him. Adella spun quickly and launched herself at him, and as Darius expected, she bounced helplessly off the field of force.
They paused, staring at each other across the barrier.
“Come, my friend,” she said, her voice light and a little puzzled. “Give me your hand. I seem to have a problem here.”
“I fear not,” Darius answered reluctantly. “I do not think the master of the castle would want you to pass this particular wall.”
Adella’s eyes narrowed.
“Indeed,” she said softly, studying him. “You were eager enough to take my hand back at the cliff face. Will you deny me yours now?”
“I do not deny you my hand by choice,” he replied. “But my mission may well hinge on Malcolm’s good will, and I think he would take affront to any one who brought a thief of your considerable ability within his walls.”
“Is that your thought?” she said with a slow smile. “Well, perhaps you should look behind you and think again. You’re not yet within the walls of Llan Praetor.”
Surprised, Darius turned and looked at the iron-bound entry. Even in the faint moonlight, he could see the door had no less than four handles, and even a layman’s untrained eye could spot at least three locks, each clearly a difficult challenge with the unnerving probability that they needed to be opened in the proper sequence. Darius hesitated at the daunting sight.
“No ham-fisted Paladin can get through a barrier like that,” Adella called confidently. “You’ll need me to tickle it open for…”
But Darius resolutely put his hand on the nearest handle, and the door opened to his first pull.
“Roast me on a spit…” Adella swore softly at the sight.
He paused and turned back to her.
“I leave you with a token of the debt I do indeed owe you,” he said. And then he added slowly, “I’d take it as a kindness if you would hold that golden ring close until the time when I can redeem it. It is the only memento I have of my late wife.”
Adella glanced down at the ring in her hand.
“How can I be sure to find you if once we part?” she asked quickly. “The wide world will become wider yet with Regnar’s advance.”
Darius smiled at her across the distance.
“Fear you not, Good Thief,” he said gently. “Our paths will cross again.”
Even in the dimness, he could see her eyes flash with rage at that echo of her own words.
“You may count on that!” the woman shouted, coloring with anger. “And that’s when I’ll send you down to bark in Hell, you…”
Darius
slipped quickly inside, and the door closed behind him, sparing him the rest.
* * * * *
Bishop Kal was just completing the wearisome task of reviewing the Cathedral’s daily logs when he was interrupted by a quiet knock on his door. He frowned at the disturbance, one more item to which he must attend, one more drain on his patience. It had been a particularly irksome day with complaints from the Merchant’s Guild about the tithes, young Joshua demanding to be allowed to attend the Council of Lords, and continuing rumors about the presence of Red Priests within Alston’s Fey itself. It had been the sort of day that required time to reflect and gather one’s strength against the demands of the morrow when the problems were only likely to be still worse. Kal was just about to call out a denial when the door opened, and in walked Father Maldonar, Inquisitor for the Propriety Council and special envoy of His Blessedness, the Patriarch.
“What requires your presence in my chambers at this hour?” asked Kal, his displeasure clear in his tone. Maldonar had begun to take his access to the Bishop a little too casually.
“We have an unexpected visitor, My Lord,” the Priest said, his eyes gleaming.
“A visitor? One who cannot wait until the morn?”
“I fear not. When you receive him, I believe you will understand.”
“Receive him? Here? Now?!”
“I beg your indulgence,” the Priest said with a low bow. “I would not make such a request were the matter not of the utmost importance.”
Kal fumed for a moment, but Maldonar’s bearing emphasized his words, and the Bishop’s interest stirred. The Priest turned and opened the door fully, ushering in a hooded figure that seemed to be clutching its wrap against some terrible cold. Only when the door clicked firmly shut did the figure reluctantly relinquish its hood to reveal its identity. It was Ursulan, Chancellor of Corland.
A Rage in the Heavens (The Paladin Trilogy Book 1) Page 30