by Andre Norton
She said nothing of the long hours in which she had wrestled with this problem. Mayrin might be slender of body, but that slenderness concealed an iron will. Jerrany was quite simply Romar’s sword-brother as well as his brother-in-law; he would have stormed the Dark Tower on his own were there no other way to free Romar. If she spoke of the man she dreamed, this would happen. Twice she had determined to join forces with them. Each time she had returned to her canyon and seen the foals, she had weakened. How could she risk all she and her friends were building here?
Besides that, over the months there had been long discussions with Tharna, Hylan, and the other Keplians. They had slowly learned the joy of being truly free of fear and cruelty. Now it would please them to teach others, to bring more of their kind into the canyon until they had learned kindness. The adult stallions would be time wasted. But mares and foals could be taught. Was she to dismiss all this to ride to war? She might lose everything they had gained, and win what? A single man. One she had no need of.
In those flickering seconds before she answered Romar, her mind hardened in final decision. To buy a good life at Romar’s expense would be wrong. He was her far-kin. She owed him aid. Her eyes swept over a face grown slowly more dear to her.
If she left Romar to die, she would not be able to live with the decision. In the end, it was as simple as that. If he was rescued, Mayrin and Jerrany would understand her silence and forgive it. If she died, no one would know why she had said nothing for so long. Jerrany at least would understand, if he survived.
The sign faded, wisping into nothingness, and Romar was gone. She stared into the gray, remembering the desperation in his tone. The one who used him must be close to draining everything. Soon Romar would die in body and mind. Before then, she must have summoned help, taken the path to him for freedom or a clean death.
In her sleep her hand clenched savagely. If she could not win him free, she could do that. He should die at her own hands that the evil one might bind him no more. At her hands, death would set his spirit free.
There would be no time for scouting Gray Ones in the morning. With the light she must ride. But first—her mind busily turned over various plans and supplies.
A deeper sleep claimed her then. But always as she drowsed, Romar’s face watched her. Pleading for freedom, hopeful, believing in her. How could she have thought to stand back? This was a warrior. It was for her to ride with him in battle. Here was one who could accept her as she was. Her mouth curved in a smile that made her sleeping face briefly that of a child again. Far-kin, hold on, I am coming!
13
She woke with that determination still burning. She breakfasted, then went in search of the Keplians.
“Battle-sister, I must have speech with those at the lake. Will you come?” The mare stood thoughtfully, enquiring. “I dreamed again last night. Also I swore to my far-kin within the mist that I would aid Romar. It seems the time to fulfill that vow is come.”
*Dreamed?*
Eleeri smiled affectionately. Tharna always did like to hear it all in order. She began to explain. Hylan stood by in silence as he listened closely.
He found a point and broke in. Eleeri halted to hear him. In the Keplian lands Hylan had traveled widely over the past two years. He knew them as even the mare and woman did not. He was younger in battle and perhaps less wise, but he knew things they might need to learn. They listened, eyes intent on him. This would help them still further in an attempt to free Romar.
“But I need to ride for the lake, to tell Jerrany and Mayrin all this.”
*What then, battle-sister? You cannot bring down the Dark Tower by direct assault. It will need cunning. Cunning and power.* Tharna queried.
Eleeri began to talk again, quietly. Her friends nodded approval as she did so. It was hazardous, precarious, a chance and no more. But no less, either. The influence of the tower was spreading, the strength of its new occupant growing. Once Romar was gone, the evil one would seek others to use. Some might even come willingly.
“Enough talk. I ride now, this morning. Do either of you come, or do I go alone?”
Unnoticed by the three, mares and foals had gathered around them. They, too, had listened. Eleeri suddenly stepped back, jumping a little as she saw them for the first time. Her eyebrows rose and she glanced from one to the other. A lean scarred mare stepped forward. Theela seldom spoke. The scars had come from a vain attempt to protect her foal from a stallion. She had been found wandering dazed, bleeding, and bereft, to be gently guided back to the canyon by Hylan. She was a loner, most often keeping to herself, but her foal by her rescuer was now half grown and one of the finest in Eleeri’s lands.
Her head lifted. *We will go.*
The words were few, but with them came a quick flow of images so that the woman understood. While she, Tharna, and Hylan had conferred, the remaining mares, too, had been in conference. They had scores of their own to settle. Forced matings, murdered foals, savaged friends among other mares. Here in the canyon they had found another way of life. Hylan adored his foals, condescending to play games with them and treating their mothers as equals. They might understand less of the issues. But one thing they did understand: it was the way of life in the canyon, against the way of life out on the plains. To keep the new way, they, too, were prepared to do battle.
Eleeri reached out, allowing her fingers to brush the soft nose. “What of your foals?”
*Grown some; others stay.*
The woman leaned against Tharna as her eyes swept those who crowded about them. That was true enough. Over half the babies were of an age where down in the lower lands they would have been driven from the mares for their own safety. Here in the richer pasture even the smaller foals were larger and stronger for their age than their lowland kin. The mares had ample milk. Should any of those who came with her fall, their foals could still be fed.
From one side a colt shouldered his way to her. They had brought him back from a foray the previous year. His dam slain by rasti, the foal torn about the legs, still they had found him doing his small best to fight. The rasti had been toying with him before the kill. Eleeri’s arrival had put an end to that. Now Shenn faced her, intelligence gleaming in the red-fire eyes.
He reared slightly, his hooves thumping emphatically to the ground. *I go with you. I have no foal, no dam, no mate.* He snorted. *I will carry a human, if that will aid.*
There was no intake of breath from those listening before Theela nodded. She made her meaning plain, her intent clear.
*I, too, will carry a human. I will carry one so that they do not fall. I will carry one to fight. If they are injured, I will stand beside them. Bear them home again.* She reared, her hooves slamming into the earth. *Kill those who murdered my foal, kill those who hurt my friends, kill the ones who would take this place away from us.*
With each sentence her hooves slammed back to earth. The colt was the first to follow her, but others took up the cry. Hooves thundered against soil, thumped dully against rock. Eyes shone red as sweat sleeked black hides. Foals bucked and whinnied in excitement as the mind-cries went up.
Into this Eleeri’s voice slashed. “You say you will bear humans—will you bear them to the rasti burrows to fight? To draw off the attention of the Dark one, to drain his power? Will you stand off those of your kind who would fight against us, even kill them if you must? Be wholly damned by them, hated and even hunted?”
Theela reared high. Her belly gleamed in the sunlight as it showed the wicked scars marring the smooth hide. *I will do all these things. What does their hatred matter? As for being hunted*—her head tossed, ears flattened wickedly—*I have been hunted before. Let them hunt if they will. They may even find me.* Her teeth were bared, her eyes madness.
If any enemies find her, they may not live to regret it, Eleeri thought, seeing the ferocity. This one will fight pukutsi when she fights. She may go down, but she will take many with her. She took a breath.
“Go, think of this. I ride
now to talk with the human keep. We must make plans. An attack must be made that is coordinated so we waste none of our strength.”
She saw the colt nod slow agreement to that thought. The scarred mare nodded, trotting off to graze. Eleeri noticed that she was no longer alone though. With her Shenn had gone, his flanks brushing hers as he grazed beside the mare. She met Tharna’s eye and a gentle amusement flickered between them for an instant. Then the two were all business.
“Will you both come with me?”
Tharna moved closer. *I will carry you.* Her tone was a little jealous so that Eleeri was touched. Hylan crowded up.
*I can carry you back?* His mind-send was hopeful and Eleeri laughed.
“Even so, kin-brother. We are three, but I’ll have to bring the pony.” There was an irritable snort but no objection. Swiftly she saddled the willing animal, balancing packs of hides and weapons she would take for the lake keep. She vaulted to Tharna’s back and they trotted toward the canyon exit. Seemingly from thin air Pehnane materialized, eyes sapphire flames.
*Where do you go?*
In a few quick words Eleeri explained, guessing he wished to hear it from her, although surely he must already know. Approval came to her.
*The plan may work. What of those who say they, too, will fight?*
“What of them?” Her voice was hot. “They have a right to protect what they believe in.”
His sending was mild. *I did not say aught against that. Do they fight for the Light?* There was an odd intensity in the sending of that question.
From behind came a snuffle as Theela joined them. *I hear.*
Pehnane swung his head to her. *And you answer?*
Her head dropped as she considered, then lifted again. *To kill foals is evil. To mate with mares who do not wish is evil—wrong. To live as we did in our lands was . . .* she fumbled for the right word.
Tharna supplied it. *Dark.*
*Yes. If that is Dark and how we live here is Light, then I fight for the Light. I die for the Light.* Her sentences stopped, but her mind still sent—a bitter litany of pain and sorrows in pictures that tore at them all. *I stand with the Light.* The mare repeated slowly, as Pehnane looked at her. Her mind sent a sort of grim satisfaction. *I know what I say. So do those others there.* Her nose indicated the grazing Keplians. *They do not hate so greatly, but they will fight.*
*I believe. Come—follow.*
Trailed by the mare, he paced slowly toward the exit. At his approach, the runes blazed into life. His nose went up to trace one, then another, and finally a third.
*Do this also.*
For an instant she gazed up at the flaring signs. Then her nose, too, traced over the ancient signs. They blazed higher, blue mist swirling and condensing, smoking from them to cast a veil over Theela’s head. It cleared and Eleeri bit back a gasp. The mare stood proudly, her eyes yet fire, but now the clear pure blue that marked the other Keplians standing with her. The colt moved in slowly from where he had waited behind his friend. His head lifted to study her, then the signs.
*I stand with Theela.* He said no more, but before they could prevent it, he was tracing the first sign. Eleeri drew in her breath in wonder. The blue mist swirled out to take him in its embrace. The power knew its own and all hearts. In that fraction of a second as he touched, it judged and sentenced. A colt with sapphire eyes faced them, shivering a little still at his own boldness.
Hylan’s mind-voice was dry. *If we are done here, can we now leave? Or must we wait while everyone lines up to rub noses with a wall?*
The colt pawed the ground. *I would journey with you.*
Eleeri dropped from Tharna’s back and stepped toward him. Her fingers went up to stroke the mane from his eyes. Wordlessly she sent a picture. Mayrin—laughing, playing with her children. Looking down at Romar’s limning, pain in her eyes. Pictures, memories of gentle laughter, of the essence of her friend.
Shenn’s ears perked. *I would carry her. She is like you.*
Theela strolled over and waited. Now Eleeri sent Jerrany, of his strength, his caring for his mate, his small ones, his anger at cruelty. His kindnesses.
A nose thrust into her hands. *I will carry this one if he wishes. If he will trust me.* Theela sent.
“Then come. At the keep you can meet him and make your decisions. Pehnane?” She turned to find the stallion had vanished once more. “I wish he wouldn’t do that. It’s like having a ghost about the place.” There was a soft mental giggle from her kin-sister as Eleeri remounted.
*That one does as he will. We do not need him.* She moved into a gliding walk and, followed by the obedient pony and three of her kind, paced away along the trail.
As they traveled, the woman was making up her mind. To simply arrive with four Keplians might cause some—well, surprise at the very least. It might even provoke someone into an attack before they thought. Better to ride in on the pony, explain it all to her friends, then call in the Keplians. Jerrany could be as lighthearted and as giddy as any boy. But under that he was a warrior of a warrior people. He would see the advantages to all of this.
She had only to tell them both of Romar and her dreaming. That would be to drop stones on one side of the scales. If they knew there was a chance to free Romar, to defeat the Dark Tower in the doing—to make safe their lands for a while longer—then they would go to battle with goodwill, taking allies where they offered.
She glanced sideways to where Shenn pranced, unable in his youthful high spirits to prevent himself from a few caperings. The stunning blue of his eyes struck her anew. A sign of the Light. Seeing them, she was certain Jerrany would be able to keep any from acting foolishly once she had spoken to him. The keep had its own runes of ward and guard. The Keplian should be able to pass those also. Another demonstration that they were now of the Light. She nodded to herself. So long as she moved carefully, all should be well.
They wended their way along the trails, always keeping a lookout. Here in the higher hills they were far from the Gray Ones’ ranging, but there were other things which dwelt here. Some were of minor darkness, others quite simply dangerous. The rasti colony was many miles away, but solitary males often wandered up into this area. One rasti was no danger to five warriors, but even so, a bitten fetlock would be no light problem should the teeth go deep. However, they saw no one and nothing over the several days of journeying.
They worked their way down toward the lake on the third day and the keep tower came into view as they topped a small rise. Part of the journey had been spent in discussion, so all knew what they should do. Eleeri dropped from Tharna’s back, calling the pony to her. By now she was skilled in the uses of her gift. As her power had grown with experience, she was finding she could do far more than she had ever imagined. It was now that Cynan’s patient months of teaching and his stores of shared information were coming into their own. She swung into the dun’s saddle, leaning over to pat first Tharna, then Hylan. Then, gathering the reins, she rode down the hill to where a sentry was announcing her appearance in stentorian tones. Mayrin and Jerrany came running.
“Eleeri, welcome, but—” Mayrin paused, “you look so grim. Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong, no. But let us be private quickly.” She saw the way both faces looked then. Eager, yet half afraid to know. She swept them into the solar, where Mayrin slammed the door.
“We are private here—speak quickly. Oh, Eleeri, have you found him? Have you found Romar?”
“Yes!” Eleeri said baldly.
Then she found herself grinning as Mayrin seized her hands, dancing her about the room. They subsided, panting, as Jerrany smiled down.
“Tell us everything you can,” he requested gently. “Then we can make plans.”
Eleeri talked. Her friends listened until she was done with the tale, including those of her blood who had waited so long in the canyon. Then it was Jerrany who commented.
“We can expect no help from the valley or its lady. I have been sending information all
along to Duhaun. She knows all that we know of you, Eleeri. And I have written of the spread of evil into these parts where it was not before.” He smiled. “Indeed letters have been flying like hail between our keep and the valley’s lady. We made plans should this time come. Now we move to put them into action and little time shall be wasted.”
“What plans?” Eleeri asked practically.
“For a start, the valley can’t help because they are already fighting elsewhere. The evil has grown strong near the Forest of the Mosswomen and it is taking most of their strength to protect the outlying stronghold and keeps in that direction. However the children are to be sent to the valley, to Duhaun. To help she has sent us five men-at-arms. She has also sent a gift.”
He held it out as Eleeri took it gingerly. It was a tiny lovely thing. A carved piece of crystal in which living colors seemed to swirl and blend.
“What are we to do with it?” Eleeri questioned.
Jerrany’s face became almost boyish again as he grinned cheerfully. “What it is I do not know. But if we prevail, we are to break it. I told the lady we may have to storm the Dark Tower. This is her reply.”
“In other words, we have to win to use it?”
“Just so.”
Mayrin reached out to take it. Quietly she busied herself threading it on a chain, which she placed silently about her own neck. Eleeri hid a grin. It was clear Mayrin intended to ride with them.
Eleeri could imagine the arguments which had taken place before her arrival. Jerrany had been convinced Romar was captive somewhere. Once he found that place, he would attack. Eleeri had seen, too, that Mayrin would never allow herself to be left behind. Why should she? The woman was trained to bow and sword, and as good a rider as any. True, Mayrin was ten years older than Eleeri, but Tehnup—experienced warriors far older—had ridden to war in the days of the Nemunuh’s glory. From what she had heard of Estcarp, women did not usually ride to war. With the coming over-mountain to Escore, many had chosen to don breeches and take up sword.