by Andre Norton
Sharpclaw came stooping down out of the sky to soar over Weldyn's head, falconsong bubbling from his throat. Weldyn smiled in satisfaction. “These rows are riddled with passageways!” he said. “If we had but known what to look for, we could have saved much time, both going and returning. We can expect that most have lain unused for years, as this one has. The Alizonders, at least around here, prefer to build stiles over the hedgerows. We can't cross them, except on foot. But if we hack our way through each passageway, we will leave as clear a trail as any pursuer would want to follow.”
“That can't be helped. We have to reach the mountains, and we can't wait until we get to the Gap,” Yareth said. “All right, everyone. Ride as fast as you can. Let us hope we can find shelter from searching eyes, or the Hounds are too busy tormenting that poor fellow who helped us and don't notice we aren't on the main road until we are far past pursuit.”
II
Past the wide meadow and through another similar labyrinthine passageway, Eirran began to nurture a faint hope that their ruse had worked and they had shaken off their pursuers. Then the thin notes of a hunting horn came floating to them, borne by the breeze.
“Well, that does it,” Weldyn said grimly. “We make it to the Ridge and hope Girvan was right about the Hounds not daring to go there, or we get caught out in the open and have to make a stand then and there.”
In this portion of Alizon, buildings of any sort were scarce. Here and there, a ruined tumble abutted a hedgerow, seeming almost a part of it. Usually there was a stile nearby. Whether these buildings had once been dwellings, or had been intended as rude shelters for shepherds or animals, it was impossible to tell. They would offer poor protection if the fugitives had to seek recourse in the rubble when the Hounds began to bombard them with darts.
The riders spurred the Torgians into a gallop. They wasted precious time searching the next hedgerow for an opening, but what Sharpclaw had spotted and guided them toward was only an unusually abundant growth of thorn bushes. Openings to the south had now become few, and far between. There weren't even very many stiles. The fugitives didn't dare turn west, as that would bring them closer to the Hounds; so again, they were forced to turn east, where they finally located the hidden access to the meadow they had crossed. When they had cleared the weeds and thorns away and had gone through, Weldyn struck flint to steel and set fire to the tangle. Within moments the top of the hedgerow was ablaze. It made a smoke column big enough to be seen at the Alizon Gap, but it would halt pursuit for a while until the embers cooled. Eirran only hoped that there was not another opening, unknown to them, that the Hounds could use and avoid the delay.
Again, the north wall gave them no access, but at the east hedgerow they finally had a stroke of luck. There, they discovered a proper gate in the fence where the ground had been trodden into mud with the passage of many animals back and forth. The fugitives dashed through the gate and past the incurious herd grazing on the lea—but not, however, before Yareth closed the gate behind them and lashed it tightly with a cord which he tied into intricate knots. “There,” he said. “The fire seems to have bought a few extra minutes. Maybe this will, too.”
The next gate led to an open ground that held a cottage and barn—no doubt the dwelling place of the peasant who looked after this estate for the Alizonder baron who dwelt in the city and gave never a care to his land except for the revenues it brought in. The fanner, attracted by the noise the horses made on the hard ground, had come out of his house to investigate. He held a hay-fork as if it were a weapon, but clumsily; patently, he was no fighter.
“Who are you and what d'you want on my land?” he demanded. The look in his eye made Eirran think he was not at all amused by the prospect of anyone—Hounds with their snake-headed dogs, or fugitives fleeing from them—riding across his fields, ruining his crops and upsetting his livestock.
“We apologize for the intrusion,” Yareth told him. “And if you will, you can help us be gone that much sooner.”
“Hmm,” the farmer said thoughtfully. “You the ones who set the fire?”
“We are. We hope it will be confined to the hedgerow only. It was to delay pursuit.”
“I saw the smoke.” The man looked at Eirran, and at the children who clung to the riders’ saddlebows. “Well, I have no love for the Hounds. If you're running from them, you must have a good reason, not that they need much cause to go after a man. Though I hadn't thought they had begun persecuting women and children as yet.”
“They put me in prison,” Eirran said, “and they were torturing these little girls.” She stroked Star's hair. Perched on Dunnis's saddlebow, Lisper sucked her thumb and stared at the farmer out of enormous, shiny eyes.
The farmer spat on the ground at his feet. He gazed off into the distance. “I have a wife and two daughters myself. And a son who is thinking about joining the Hounds rather than staying on and helping me. But you've picked a poor place to run to. There's no place to hide hereabouts and it would be my death if you were found in my cottage or barn.”
“We've no intention of putting you or your family in danger, sir,” Yareth said. He pointed toward the mountains that loomed very close by now. “Yonder is our destination.”
The farmer looked startled. “No! Surely nothing you've done is so bad you'd risk that place rather than the Hounds! They've been known to show mercy, if the mood was on ‘em. The Forbidden Mountains don't.”
Weldyn stepped forward. “We're Falconers, he and I. No mountains in this world hold terrors for us.”
“Be that as may be, there's dark things roam those mountains. And folks with any sense stays away. There's those as says we tempt the wickedness enough, living here as close as we do.”
“Yet that is where we would go.” Yareth set his jaw stubbornly. “Better the risk of dangers we don't know than the certain knowledge of the kind of death we'll face at the hands of those who pursue us.” He gazed at Eirran across Mouse's head.
“Well then, if you're set on it—” the farmer glanced at each in turn, and all nodded agreement, even the children “—there's a crofter's cottage two fields over and one field south. Used to use it when I ran flocks in those meadows. Gave it up when—Never mind that. The cottage lies athwart the hedgerow. Used to be part of it. It's all in rubble now, no roof, walls mostly down. If you was careful you could pick your way through and get to the other side. But as I told you, I wouldn't want to do it.”
“Thank you, good sir,” Yareth said. “We'll trouble you no further—”
“Aye, but I'd trouble you for one favor.”
“Name it.”
“The Hounds are close on your heels. If they're as eager to catch you as you say, it'll go hard with me that you've even ridden through my spot of land. If you could just kindly cosh me a little on the head, say, not enough to do damage, but enough to show the Hounds, convince ‘em I didn't help—”
Yareth frowned. But then he swung himself out of the saddle and strode toward the farmer, leaving Mouse clutching Rangin's mane.
“Close your eyes,” he said. Then, drawing his dagger, he hit the man neatly just over the temple with the hilt. It opened the skin enough to make an impressive show of blood, and a lump was already forming by the time he eased the farmer gently to the ground.
Eirran caught sight of a woman's white face at the window, and a child's eyes peeping out over the sill. The woman looked at Eirran and nodded slowly. “I'm sorry,” Eirran said, knowing the woman couldn't hear her. Then she nudged her horse into a gallop, following the men in their headlong flight from the pursuing Hounds. Behind them, the horn sounded again, much nearer.
III
They wasted precious time searching for the ruined cottage because the farmer had been off in his directions. It lay three fields to the east, rather than two, and in the far corner beyond a sharp rise. Between their traversing the fields and the lane they had traveled down, Eirran judged they must have come several leagues farther east than most of them would have cho
sen. But otherwise, it was as the man had said. This was the boundary; it was also the last hedgerow, and the tallest. Here the stone foundations were built high as the walls of any house, as if early inhabitants had wanted to put a barricade across southern Alizon, trying to keep at bay whatever they feared in the mountains. The cottage had been constructed as an integral part of that barricade. When the cottage had been abandoned—for whatever reason, Eirran didn't wish to know—the resulting ruin had created a chink in the defenses. The thorn bushes and the weeds and ivy hadn't as yet filled in the gap completely. A few more stones pulled down from the back side of the wall—the men rigged ropes to saddles and immediately set the horses to the task—and they could go through.
The children clustered around Eirran while all this was going on, and she put her arms around as many as she could manage. “Will they be in time, Eirran?” Lisper asked fearfully.
“I hope so,” she replied. “If it's at all possible, yes, my husband will get us out before the Hounds catch up with us.”
Bird stiffened. ‘"They're coming!” she cried, pointing behind them. The horn sounded again.
Eirran turned. There they were, outlined against the sky. There must have been two score of them. Their helmets gave them a weird, unworldly look. Even as she watched, the Hounds came galloping over the rise and spreading their ranks out across the meadow. Now the sound of yapping and baying dogs mingled with the horn and the eager war-cries of the men as they drew closer. They sounded like wild animals who had scented blood—the men as well as the dogs. Even the horses neighed and shrilled their challenges. Their eyes rolled in their heads, and there was foam around their jaws. In a moment the Hounds, their dogs of war, and their horses would be upon them.
“Yareth!”
He didn't hesitate. “Go! Now!” he shouted. The men abandoned the ropes and went pounding back to where the horses waited. They scrambled into their saddles and snatched the children up with them. Eirran was already mounted, Mouse in her arms.
“Get a good running start!” he cried. “You'll have to jump for it!” He slapped Eirran's Torgian across the flanks and the startled animal leaped forward.
There were stones Uttering the ground, ready to catch and trip a horse, even one picking its way with care. Eirran leaned forward, holding Mouse tightly, and closed her eyes. It must, it must, it must, she found herself chanting over and over. Then she felt the Torgian tense under her thighs, lift. A sensation of flight seemed to last a long time. The horse landed heavily, nearly stumbled. Miraculously, it regained its footing and kept going. Behind her, she heard more sounds of galloping hooves, the pause and thud, as the men followed her over the wall.
“Keep going!” It was Dunnis. He urged his mount onward, keeping close to her side, lashing both horses to their utmost speed. A dart whistled past but it was almost spent and spiraled off harmlessly into the ground. Lisper clung to Dunnis's neck, holding on for all she was worth. “Just a little farther, and we'll be out of range!”
“Where's Yareth?”
“Following— No!” He turned his horse against hers, preventing her from pulling up.
“I've got to go to him—”
“He's all right! He and Weldyn stayed long enough to see that all the Witch-childrén got over safely, and then they followed. He sent me to look after you.”
They entered a patch of woods. No more darts zinged through the air, so he allowed the horses to slack their pace. They slowed to a halt and stood, heads down, needing a breather after their hard exertions. Dunnis turned and stood in his stirrups, craning to see through the tree branches. “There they come. Loric has Flame and Cricket both with him. And—yes, yes! There they are! The Falconers are safe.”
Eirran sagged with relief. She loosened her grip on Mouse. “Let's get down,” she said to her, “and let the poor horse rest. He's earned it.”
Dunnis dismounted, bringing Lisper with him. The little girl had to be pried loose from his neck. “I hope this little monkey isn't scared senseless—”
But rather than being terrified, as Eirran expected, Lisper was exhilarated and bubbling with excitement and pleasure. “Oh, Dunnith, that wath fun!” she said. “Pleath, let'th do it again!”
“I hope not—ouch! Let go my hair!”
Lisper and Mouse both dissolved into a fit of giggles. Now that the danger was past, Eirran began to laugh as well.
Presently everyone but the Falconers had regrouped in the edge of the wooded patch, and those who waited could see them coming. They appeared unhurt. Hirl had a dart lodged in the sleeve of his chainmail, just piercing thè skin, but he shrugged off any attempt Eirran made to tend the wound.
“If it festers, then I'll come looking for you,” he said. “But the last I heard, the Hounds had not begun to put poison on their darts.”
“Just in case, I'll start gathering what medicinal herbs I can, while we rest and get our bearings.”
“Our bearings!” Ranal laughed. “The moment I'm in country with ridges higher than my head I'm as good as lost. No sense of direction even with the sun to guide me.”
“I never knew that. You must fare badly on campaign then,” Dunnis said good-naturedly. He was checking various parts of his tired horse's saddle and bridle. “Next time, I'll remember to let you ride along in my dust.”
“Oh, I do well enough, as long as someone else is there to point which way I should go. But by myself I'm hopeless.”
Yareth and Weldyn came riding up just then. Eirran rushed to her husband's side. “What happened? Are they following?”
“No, they aren't.” Yareth and Weldyn swung themselves from their saddles, and sent their horses off with the others to rest and crop what grass they could find under the trees. “They stopped short at the wall, though they did pepper us from the top of the wall with their dart guns. Good thing we were almost out of range before they got there.”
“I don't understand why they didn't follow us.”
“I don't either,” Weldyn said. He didn't seem to notice that he was talking to the woman he had treated with scorn ever since her true identity had been discovered. “That fellow Talgar was no longer with them. Perhaps they finished him as soon as they caught our scent.”
Eirran shuddered. “Oh, I want to put as much distance between us and Alizon as I can!” she cried.
“We will,” Yareth said. “And quickly, too. Girvan and the farmer were right. The Hounds do not go beyond their boundary walls, into the Alizon Ridge.”
“I hope he is all right—the farmer, I mean.”
“I didn't hit him hard. Only enough to stun him and, I hope, save his life.”
“I still want to be gone from here as soon as we can. The sooner begun, the sooner we're there, and the sooner all this is behind us and we can go on with our lives as before!”
He laughed. “That's my practical Eirran! Very well, we seem to have all caught our breath by now. Off we go through the mountains, where a proper Falconer belongs.”
He turned and walked away with Weldyn. Something had changed subtly with both Falconers. Their quarrel now seemed entirely forgotten and both men appeared tense, excited—even a little feverish, as if on the verge of some long-delayed and greatly anticipated adventure. Eirran decided to ask what had happened back at the last hedgerow, tonight when she and Yareth were alone. For now she was content to follow the brisk pace they set. The more distance between her and Alizon before nightfall the better.
The going was remarkably easy, even for Eirran who had no love of mountains or heights. They wound their way through valleys between peaks, climbing ever higher. To their left, they could see the cold and inhumanly tall crests of the Great Eastern Mountains, of which the ridge they traversed was but a spur. Eirran knew that the Barrier Mountains, between Karsten and Estcarp, likewise joined the Great Eastern range. But they did so as one giant meeting a greater giant, merging into one as they wound away into unknown lands. Here, however, it was as if leftover peaks—so small in comparison they could
easily be thought of as insignificant—had simply spilled off the shoulders of the Great Eastern behemoths, leftovers from when they had been formed, in the beginning of the world. And what else had spilled into the Alizon Ridge, from the heartless, forbidden ‘ ranges to the east?
Don't be ridiculous, Eirran admonished herself sternly. It is only your own silliness that makes the air feel heavy and hard to breathe, only your own imagination that populates the shadows among the trees with other, darker shadows with red and unblinking eyes. I will not give in to fear, I will not, now that we have come so far—up through Estcarp and through the Alizon Gap with its magical wards and dangerous proximity to Tor Marsh, to Alizon City and prison. And the near-miraculous escape from the castle, aided by more magic that seemed to be channeled through Mouse—her Jenys!—thence through the hedgerow country and into the mountains where the Falconers who rode at the head of their little column felt most at home. What have I to worry about?
They were working their way along a little stream that meandered through a deep defile where cliffs rose steeply on either hand. Tall trees with slender, almost leafless trunks clawed skyward, seeking the lifegiving sunlight. Here by the streambed, they could see the sky and could also catch an occasional glimpse of the sharp cliff edge overhead. The sun was beginning to descend on their right. A few gold beams filtered through the trees, just enough to· intensify the gloom within the forest and outline the many large rocks in the streambed that had fallen from the cliff overhead. An occasional dead tree leaned against its neighbors until it finally decayed enough to fall to the forest floor. As they went deeper into the defile, bird sounds, sparse in this area at best, died away entirely and even the rustle that spoke of small arboreal creatures going about their business ceased among the leaves. There was no sound save that of the stream chuckling its way over clean-scoured river pebbles, and the sounds they themselves made as they rode.