Like the Bones, this was unforgiving country; as they pressed into the valley, the slopes on either side grew more sheer and ever higher, until they were riding through a gorge that sliced through the very heart of the mountains, as if they had cracked open in some primordial tumult. It was very cold: even in midsummer the floor of the Idoiravis stayed in shadow for most of the day, only a few direct shafts of sunlight finding their way past the precipitous walls. Sometimes they saw gray piles of snow from the previous winter hidden in crevices in the rocky walls. Maerad called a halt to put on her woolen cloak, which she had not worn since they had arrived in Thorold, and rode on through the chilly gloom. Along the narrow floor of the gorge were low tangled yews and bog myrtles growing above thick carpets of moss, and stands of some fern she hadn't seen before, with dark fronds. She didn't like this place so well. It seemed the horses were in agreement; they quickened their pace to a swift trot, their hoofbeats multiplying disconcertingly in the echoes off the stone walls, as if a cavalry were clattering through the gorge behind them.
Perhaps the clamor of the echoes was why they were taken by surprise. Cadvan pulled up his horse and called out a warning. Instantly he raised a defense, just before Elenxi, who was still leading them, threw up his arms and slithered off his own mount. His horse reared in dismay, and then swung around and bolted off. Maerad stopped in shock, trying to work out what was happening even as she drew her sword—an automatic reaction now—and shielded her mind against attack. Her mare shied beneath her, and Maerad fought to keep control as she felt another attack, sensing a dark presence nearby. Both she and Cadvan were aglow with magelight.
"It's a Hull," hissed Cadvan. "At least, I hope it's only one."
"I can't see anyone," said Maerad, searching the bracken nearby. They were tall enough to conceal a man. Maerad reached out with her mind to touch Cadvan's, uniting their strengths, and together they searched the valley, tracking down the source of the evil they both felt. It was hidden in a thicket of the low trees. Even as they found it, another attack came, this one directed at Cadvan.
This time, Maerad could see it: a bolt of energy as swift as an arrow. As always when her life was in peril, time seemed to have slowed down. She and Cadvan instinctively parried the blow, using both their swords and their Bardic powers, and the bolt ricocheted up the gorge wall, hitting it with a huge crack and splitting off splinters of rock. One hit Maerad's face, cutting her on the cheek, but she didn't notice the pain.
It wasn't, she thought, a particularly powerful blow; dangerous for a Bard caught unaware, but unlikely to hurt anyone with their defenses up. She and Cadvan both dismounted, silently commanding their quivering horses to remain where they were, and moved warily toward the thicket of trees. Elenxi lay very still on the ground, his arms outflung, and for a moment Maerad wondered how badly he had been hurt. There was no time to think about that yet.
"Not too close," murmured Cadvan. "It could be trying to draw us closer, and spring a trap."
They steadied themselves and then sent a blast of light toward the trees. It was White Fire, the most powerful of Bardic weapons against the Dark, but it seemed to have no effect; it was as if a pebble had been thrown into a swamp. The energy simply vanished. They still could not see anyone.
The answer was swift in coming: an assault that shocked Maerad with its strength and almost knocked the two of them flat. Her sword rang as she swung it against the Hull's bolt of black light, driving it into the ground in front of her, and her shoulder jarred with the effort. There was a black notch on the blade afterward, as if it had struck fiery iron. The blow singed her hair and filled her mouth with a taste like burned iron, bitter and foul. She reflexively lashed out with another strike, this more powerful than the previous one made by both of them, and it was answered at once with a bolt of dark energy that nearly broke her defenses, shivering her mind as if she were a thin blade of steel. She reeled with pain; she hadn't been struck in this way before, with magery. It was as if a black, hideous void exploded in the midst of her being.
"Stop!" said Cadvan sharply as she readied another bolt. "It's using us. I don't know how, but that had White Fire in it."
"What?"
"We can't attack it. Not with the White Flame. It's having no effect on it. And that was your Flame."
Maerad turned to Cadvan in disbelief. "Then what do we do?"
"Are you certain of your shield?"
Maerad mentally tested her defenses. Despite the jarring shock, they seemed whole. "As certain as I can be," she said.
"Good. Keep it whole. We shall have to fight hand to hand."
"But what if it's a trap, like you said?"
"I feel there is only one. And I do not know what else we can do."
Maerad took a deep breath. Then she and Cadvan continued their slow pacing toward the trees, buffeted by attacks from the Hull that were not serious enough to get past their shielding. As they neared the trees, she saw at last a single figure among them; it was hard to see, since some sorcery entwined it with shadows so it tricked the sight, and it seemed to be part of the tangle of branches. It did not come forward to meet them.
When they were only ten paces away, Cadvan called out in the Speech: "Who attacks travelers in this peaceful land? Name yourself!"
There was a long silence, and they were about to take another step forward, when a thickset man moved into the lesser shadow of the gorge.
"It is none of your business who I am, Cadvan of Lirigon," said the Hull. It, too, used the Speech, but it seemed strangely glottal, and its voice raised the hair on Maerad's neck. "I am but a servant of greater laws."
No hooded cloak hid the horror of the bony, unliving face that turned its depthless eyes upon them. Despite herself, Maerad shuddered.
"As for you, outlaws, I seek to bring you to a larger justice. It is well broadcast through all these lands that you are wanted for treason against the Light."
Cadvan spat on the ground. "It ill behooves a Hull to speak of treason against the Light," he said.
"I am no traitor," said the Hull. "I am a loyal Bard of Norloch. And it would be well if you came with me. You cannot fight me." The Hull was idly fiddling with an object it held in its hands. "I have a blackstone; your magery is useless. Even such powers as yours, Maerad of Pellinor. And I am a greater swordsman than you might guess."
"You're a liar," said Maerad hotly. "Like all Hulls."
Casually and contemptuously, the Hull lifted the blackstone and spoke, and Maerad gasped; it felt as if serpents were biting her innards. She clutched herself in sudden agony, almost falling.
Cadvan grasped her hand, and the agony vanished.
"It has your pattern," he said inscrutably. "And it is right: we cannot attack it. Not with magery. It will only be turned against us."
"I don't believe you can fight us and prevail, even so." Maerad lifted her sword, and the Hull laughed.
"Oh, I have heard of your prowess," it said deliberately. "A promising beginner, I'm told. But no more than a beginner. And do you think the great Cadvan can defend you? Not with his magery useless, surely. He is not so great."
"I will not bandy words with traitors," said Cadvan grimly. Come, Maerad, he said in her mind, and moving together as one, they attacked the Hull.
The Hull moved blindingly fast, sending a blast of black lightning and attacking Cadvan with his sword. Maerad doubled in agony again, and a darkness came over her vision, as if it were suddenly the deepest night. She collapsed to the ground, writhing and struggling to breathe.
For a few moments, she was conscious of nothing except pain. Then she remembered the urgency of their situation, and wrestled with herself. She still couldn't see anything, but she could hear the sound of weapons clashing, as if from very far away. With all her willpower, she forced herself to ignore the pain. She opened her eyes, staring sightlessly ahead of her; after a short time she could almost see, but it was as if a black mist flooded her sight. She took a deep breath and tried again.<
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Cadvan and the Hull were in vicious combat, but neither had as yet gained the upper hand. The Hull had not been lying about its sword skills; Maerad could see, even through the dimness that afflicted her sight, that they were formidable. What if Cadvan couldn't defeat him?
Maerad bit her lip so hard it bled. It helped to clear her mind. She struggled to her knees, and tried to see more. She saw Cadvan knocked head over heels by the force of a sword stroke, but he sprang back onto his feet like an acrobat. His right arm was bleeding, and the Hull was yet unscathed. The Hull was now fighting him back, step by step, toward the gorge wall.
Maerad pushed her agony down into the back of her mind. It's only pain, she said to herself. It's only pain. Shaking with the effort, she reached deep inside her mind, and as she did so, the pain lessened slightly. She took a deep breath and began to visualize the first thing that came to her mind. The Hull was paying no attention to her, believing she was disabled, and Cadvan was fighting back fiercely, demanding the Hull's full concentration. He almost disarmed the Hull, which righted itself, springing back, but Cadvan was breathing heavily, and Maerad thought the arm wound was perhaps a serious one. She focused fiercely on the figure of the Hull and shut her eyes. Now.
She heard a clatter of stones as Cadvan fell over, slashing wide with his sword against blank air, and she opened her eyes again. Her first thought was overwhelming relief; the pain in her belly was gone. She looked up.
Cadvan had rolled as he fell, twisting like a snake to avoid any sword thrust aimed his way, and had scrambled to his feet, his sword upraised. There he had halted, his face a mask of astonishment, looking this way and that. His opponent was nowhere to be seen.
Then something small hit his boots, making him step backward, and he looked down. On the ground was a furious, mangy brown rabbit with black ears. It hopped forward and sank its teeth into the ankle of his boot and tried to slash the toe with its back claws.
It seemed that the Hull hadn't quite realized that it had become a rabbit, and it still attacked with single-minded ferocity. Cadvan sheathed his sword and bent down, grabbing the struggling rabbit by its ears. He held it up and looked sardonically at Maerad, who was stumbling toward him, and then back at the rabbit. Maerad started to giggle.
"It was the first thing I thought of," she said. She sat down heavily on the ground, exhausted suddenly by the shock of the fight and her relief that it was over, and feeling laughter bubble hysterically inside her. There was a short silence.
"Well, that resolves one conundrum about your wild magic," Cadvan said at last. The rabbit was kicking viciously, making growling noises in its throat. "I think this rabbit was definitely a Hull. Well, what should we do with it? I wouldn't eat any stew this rabbit was part of."
"Let it go, maybe," said Maerad.
"I don't think so." Cadvan looked at the creature, which was frothing at the mouth with rage. "It is a vicious thing, but somehow it is still hard to kill it in cold blood, much as it deserves death. Do you think the transformation might wear off, Maerad?"
"I don't know," said Maerad. "But turning it back would be hard." She hiccupped; despite all her efforts, giggles kept rising inside her in giddy waves.
Cadvan made a sharp chop with the edge of his hand at the rabbit's neck, breaking its spine, and suddenly it hung limp from his hand, its eyes glazed. "We dare not take the risk," he said. He cast the pathetic corpse to the ground with a gesture of disgust.
Maerad stared at the dead rabbit, suddenly sobered, and Cadvan pulled her to her feet. "That was well done," he said, searching her face. "Are you all right? Your cheek is bleeding."
Maerad nodded and brushed away the blood. It was only a small cut. "But what about your arm?" she asked.
Cadvan looked ruefully at his right arm, pulling up his torn and bloodied sleeve. "Not so good, I suspect," he said. "But nothing really serious." He held his hand over a nasty slash to stem the bleeding. "I'll attend to that later. But now we must see to Elenxi."
Elenxi! In the heat of the battle, Maerad had completely forgotten about him. They walked hastily back to where the old Bard lay, his arms flung out before him.
He had been knocked out and seemed to have suffered nothing worse than a bad bruising. Cadvan laid his hands on the Bard's forehead briefly and he stirred, groaning, and then sat bolt upright and looked around, sniffing.
"What happened?" he growled. "I smell sorcery."
"We were attacked by a Hull," said Maerad, and told him what had happened.
Elenxi was outraged that he had missed the battle, and when Cadvan told him of what had happened to the Hull, he looked at Maerad with amazement. "Is this true? You can do this?" he asked, his eyebrows almost hidden in his hair. Maerad nodded, but Elenxi refused to believe it until they showed him the corpse.
His face froze with incredulity, and then began to shake with laughter. "A rabbit, eh?" he said when he had recovered from his mirth. "I begin to see what Cadvan means about your powers. Perhaps you can do that to all the Hulls, and give the Nameless One an army of rabbits."
"Mangy rabbits," said Cadvan dryly. He began to attend to the wound on his arm. Elenxi grunted, and leaned forward to help, cleaning the wound with water, smearing it with a sweet-smelling balm, and binding it with clean cloth. "It bothers me that the Hull should have ambushed us here," Cadvan said as Elenxi worked. "It knew we were coming this way."
"I told you there was a spy." Elenxi's eyes hardened. "And, alas, we did not find him until too late. But no news will come back from this one. The Idoiravis is the obvious place for an ambush: it is the only land route from north to south. I should have been more careful. I am angry with myself that I did not see this coming."
"The Hull was well concealed," Cadvan said. "It was hidden by some ensorcellment."
Elenxi, who was tying off the bandage on Cadvan's wound, snorted. "Even so," he said, "it was an elementary ambush. What disturbs me more is that it had a blackstone."
"What's a blackstone?" Maerad asked curiously.
"They are very rare," said Cadvan. "But, as you saw, they are very difficult to fight. They will absorb all the energy from a strike and then direct it back at the assailant. A blackstone is made from a mineral mined in the south, called albarac; it is worth much more than gold, because it is so difficult to find, and even more difficult to work. Most often it's used in shields, as very thin plating, because it will deflect and absorb attack. You need a lot of albarac to make a blackstone."
"And was it using the blackstone to attack me?" Maerad thought of the terrible pains that had afflicted her. "You said something about it having my pattern—what did you mean?"
"That is more difficult to explain." Cadvan drew his sword and began to examine the blade as he spoke; it bore some new notches, and he frowned. "Well, as you know, every Bard's magery has an individual flavor, a signature. This is sometimes called a pattern. If another Bard can trace that pattern, it is almost like knowing your Truename; fortunately for all of us, it is very difficult, nay, almost impossible to do. But if you have a blackstone, and can control it—which is not easy to do either— it is possible to see a Bard's pattern from a strike."
"I don't quite understand," said Maerad, frowning.
"I am concerned that the Hull had a blackstone at all," said Elenxi. "And it claimed to be of Norloch. Perhaps there is a secret store of them there, being handed out to Hulls. We have to hope that the Dark is not making them. Did you find the stone?"
"We didn't look," said Maerad. "Perhaps it was changed with the Hull."
"Maybe, but we should look anyway," said Elenxi.
Cadvan sheathed his sword. "The blackstone explains why a single Hull would attack three Bards such as us."
"If we find it, it will be a great prize," said Elenxi.
The Bards returned to the thicket of trees and searched the ground painstakingly. It wasn't long before Maerad let out a cry and lifted a strange object in her hands, waving to the others. They came over to her, and
examined it curiously.
The blackstone was large enough to fill her palm. It was ringed with a band of silver, wrought in an intricate design of flames wreathing around each other, and was attached to a silver chain. The stone itself was blank of all carving, and very strange; looking at it was not like looking at an object at all, but rather like looking at a hole, an absence of light. It was curious to touch; Maerad felt as if her fingers slipped over it, unable quite to register whether it was cool or hot, rough or smooth. Cadvan took it and looked at it closely, and let out his breath in relief.
"Well, it is certainly a blackstone of Norloch, and not fashioned by the Dark," he said. "No stone of the Dark would use the White Flame. But why would a Hull have such a thing?"
"My guess," said Elenxi grimly, "is that Enkir strongly suspects that you are in Thorold. And, if so, any fool would know that you had a good chance of traveling this way, if you wished to leave; you could not leave Busk unwitnessed."
Maerad shivered; it meant pursuit was at their very heels.
"I think you ought to keep this, Maerad," said Cadvan unexpectedly, handing the blackstone back to her. "It could be of use, I think. And it was won in fair fight. I'll teach you how to use it."
Maerad smiled and put the blackstone in her pack. Cadvan squinted up at the sky; the sun was now well past its zenith. "It's time we moved on, if we wish to be out of here by nightfall. But first we have to find Elenxi's horse; I don't think mine can bear both of us."
The horse hadn't run far after its initial panic, and they soon found it, calmly munching on some sour grass. They then pressed swiftly on their way, all of them alert in case of further attacks. As they cantered through the gorge, the silence between them was broken by occasional deep chuckles from Elenxi. "A rabbit! Brilliant, Maerad. Brilliant!"
The Riddle Page 12