The Shattered Stone

by Robert Newman

  “I suppose so. Do you think Mistress Silvia knows what happened?”

  “Of course she does.” Then abruptly, “What color were his eyes?”

  “Whose?”

  “The prince’s—Liall’s.”

  “I’m not sure. I think they were brown.”

  “How can you not be sure?”

  “Because I didn’t really notice. All I was thinking about was how I could get away.”

  “I don’t know how you could have helped noticing. What color are mine?”

  “What?”

  “No,” said Neva holding up her hand as he turned towards her. “Don’t look.”

  “I don’t have to look. They’re green.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. They’re dark green with gold lights in them.”

  “I don’t know about the gold lights,” said Neva, lowering her hand. “They are green. But you might have said they’re pretty, too.”

  “Well, of course they’re pretty,” said Ivo. “They’re very pretty. But you didn’t ask me that. What’s come over you anyway?”

  “Nothing.”

  By this time they were crossing the glade, and looking up from her loom, Mistress Silvia smiled at them.

  “Good morning, my lady,” said Neva. “How is Stekka?”

  “He’ll limp for a few days, but then he should be as fleet as ever.”

  “He didn’t break his leg, did he?” asked Ivo.

  “No. He just wrenched it. I understand that while I was with him, you were busy, too.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “I am told that you did very well, Ivo.”

  “I couldn’t let the hounds catch Ronno.”

  “No, of course not. And now you have questions about what happened.”

  “Yes. Many questions. I imagine those men were hunting Ronno because he’d been raiding the farm.”

  She nodded. “The farmer must have told them about him. Though they would have hunted him anyway once the hounds picked up his scent.”

  “What would they have done if they had caught him? Eaten him?”

  “No. They eat other game—deer, bears, wild boars—but not foxes.”

  “But then why were they hunting him?”

  “Because they consider it sport.”

  “To hunt and kill when it’s not even for food?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that’s awful!”

  “Of course it’s awful,” said Neva. “But that’s not the worst of it. One of them tried to kill Ivo!”

  “I know.”

  “Why?”

  “I gather because he was angry.”

  “Yes, he was. Ivo had pulled him from his horse. But to try and kill him … Are all men like that?”

  “No. Not all.”

  “Just those from Andor then?”

  “Were they all like that?”

  “No,” said Neva. “One of them—the prince, Liall—wasn’t. He let Ivo escape.”

  “There are some in Brunn who would have done the same.”

  “It was because they thought I came from Brunn that they wanted to take me with them,” said Ivo. “Why do they hate one another so much?”

  “It is a long story,” said Mistress Silvia.

  “Will you tell it to us?”

  “I will tell you some of it. Once, many, many, years ago, Andor and Brunn were one kingdom ruled by a single king. Then came a day when the king, who had no children of his own, made the two sons of his sister his heirs, one to rule Andor, the southern part of the kingdom that lay between the forest and the mountains, and the other to rule Brunn, the northern part that lay between the forest and the sea. But neither was content with this. Both wanted to rule the whole kingdom, so they went to war and they and their children and their children’s children have been at war ever since.”

  “And has no one done anything about it?” asked Neva. “Tried to make peace?”

  “Yes. Lanis, the present king of Andor, approached Brennir, who at that time ruled Brunn, and for a while it looked as if there might be peace. But there was treachery; Brennir was killed; and ever since then, things have been worse then ever.”

  “What was the treachery?” asked Ivo.

  Mistress Silvia did not answer. She was looking past him, and turning he saw that Jartan had entered the glade and was approaching the cave. This was strange enough for he never came there when Ivo and Neva were with Mistress Silvia. But that was not all. He was carrying a sword—not one of the blunt ones that he and Ivo practised with—but his own sword in the worn leather sheath that had always hung above his bed.

  “Greetings, Jartan,” said Mistress Silvia.

  “My lady,” he said, bowing.

  She looked at him for a moment, then asked, “Where is he?”

  “Close to where he was the other day. But he’s riding west, towards the Burnt Place.”

  “Who is?” asked Ivo.

  “Your friend, Prince Liall,” said Jartan.

  “But what is he doing here?”

  “He seems to be looking for someone or something.”

  “For me?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Ivo glanced at Neva. She had flushed slightly and dropped her eyes.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’d like to see him again. I never did thank him properly.”

  “I think you should go then,” said Mistress Silvia. “You too, Neva.”

  “Yes, my lady,” said Neva. And she, Ivo and Jartan moved off through the forest. They came to the edge near the place where Ivo had gone out, and there, as Jartan had said, was Liall. He was riding along slowly, studying the forest. Coming to a place where the trees were widely spaced, he turned and tried to ride in but his horse stopped and drew back. And when he tried to force the animal in, it reared and almost threw him.

  Apparently this was not the first time it had happened for, though he looked disappointed, he did not seem surprised. Turning his horse left he rode on slowly, looking for another likely place to enter.

  “Shall I call to him or go out there?” asked Ivo.

  “No,” said Jartan. “It’s too late.”

  Looking south they saw half a dozen horsemen appear on top of the hill and come galloping towards the prince. He saw them at the same time, and though he frowned with annoyance, he waited for them. They were led by Rendel, the black-bearded man who had attacked Ivo, and they seemed to be a bodyguard rather than a hunting party, for this time they all wore byrnies and helmets and carried bucklers with a rampant bear on them. Rendel talked to the prince for several minutes, and he appeared to be remonstrating with him. But in the end they all went on together, riding west along the outside of the forest.

  Neva, Ivo and Jartan followed them, moving silently and unseen behind the screen of trees and bushes. They had gone only a short way when Greymane joined them.

  “What are you doing so far from your pasture?” Ivo asked him.

  “Mistress Silvia sent me after you,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Jartan did not seem surprised, so Ivo asked no further questions and they all went on together.

  By now Liall and his guard had reached the Burnt Place, a circular open area several hundred yards across that was dotted with the charred stumps of trees. Nothing grew here; no shrubs, no grass, not even moss or lichen, and that may have been why Neva and Ivo had always found it disturbing and rarely came to this part of the forest. Though they had asked Mistress Silvia about it several times, all she would tell them was that it had been burnt many years before without saying how or why it seemed to be, not merely burnt, but blasted.

  From the way the prince and the others looked about them, it was clear that they had never been there before, and it was just as clear that they did not like the place. But though Rendel talked to Liall even more emphatically and urgently than he had before, the prince dismounted and this time approached the forest on foot. He was just a few
paces from it when there was a sudden thunder of hoofs and a score of men came galloping into the Burnt Place from the north. They, too wore helmets and byrnies, but their bucklers were blazoned with a sea serpent and their swords were in their hands.

  “Quickly, Your Highness!” shouted Rendel and, drawing his sword, he spurred his horse forward between the prince and the oncoming riders. Liall turned and ran back towards him, but before he could mount the horsemen were on them.

  “Who are they?” asked Ivo.

  “Border guards from Brunn,” said Jartan.

  Swords were flashing and ringing now as the riders from Brunn attacked. Neva and Ivo watched in horror as men on both sides began falling. Though they knew that animals killed for food, until that moment, death had just been a word to them, an abstraction with only a tenuous connection with reality: the stoop of a falcon high in the blue, the distant cry of a rabbit in the night, a feather on Ronno’s back. Now, suddenly, it was blood, white faces, unseeing eyes and awkwardly huddled bodies that would never move again.

  Liall, still on foot, was trying desperately to defend himself. But he wore no mail and carried no buckler. One of the riders from Brunn cut down at him, and though he tried to parry, the blow beat down his guard and he staggered. Another blow, and he fell. Rendel, striking right and left, edged his horse closer to Liall, trying to protect him, but since Rendel was almost the last of the guard from Andor, it was apparent that he could not hold out much longer.

  Staff in hand—the new staff he had cut to replace the one he had lost on the heath—Ivo started forward.

  “Wait,” said Greymane. “You can’t go out there on foot.”

  “Nor with a staff,” said Jartan. “Here.” And he held out his sword.

  “Ivo …” began Neva.

  “He freed me,” said Ivo, vaulting on to Greyman’s back. “If I can save him, I must.”

  Then Greymane was away, bursting through the magic barrier and galloping towards the melee. Two of the riders from Brunn were attacking Rendel now. As one of them broke through Rendel’s guard and he slid from his saddle, Greymane drove into the nearer of the two riders, and he and his horse went down. Leaping to the ground, Ivo picked up Liall, threw him across Greymane’s back and mounted again. Recovering from his surprise, the second rider cut at Ivo. Ivo parried that stroke and another one, then Greymane had whirled and was racing back towards the forest.

  As he had before, he burst through the magic barrier and stopped. Holding Liall in place with his left hand, Ivo looked back. Several of the riders from Brunn had started after him. But when their horses reached the edge of the forest, they reared, bucked and drew back as the huntsmen’s steeds had done.

  “Now what?” asked Ivo.

  “Take him to the hut,” said Jartan.

  Chapter 4

  “Put him there,” said Jartan, nodding towards the alcove.

  “Wouldn’t my room be better?” asked Ivo. “We’ll disturb him less there.”

  “Perhaps,” said Jartan.

  Neva opened the door for them, and they carried Liall in and lowered him onto Ivo’s bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow and harsh. Jartan bent over him and examined his wounds: one on his forehead that did not seem deep or serious, and one on his chest that was still bleeding.

  “Are they bad, Jartan?” asked Neva.

  “This one is,” said Jartan, studying the one on the chest.

  “How bad?”

  “Bad enough to be his death. Help me with his tunic, Ivo. And Neva, get some water.”

  Together Jartan and Ivo took off Liall’s tunic, lifting and moving him gently. When Neva came back into the room with a basin of water, Mistress Silvia was with her.

  “I’m glad you’ve come, my lady,” said Jartan. “He needs your help.”

  “I thought he might,” said Mistress Silvia.

  She had a basket over her arm. Taking some dried, sweet-smelling herbs from it, she crumbled them into the water and washed the blood from the wounds, then examined them.

  “Jartan said that one of them was bad,” said Neva.

  “Yes,” said Mistress Silvia.

  She took a small jar from the basket, dipped a finger in it and spread a green ointment on the wounds. Then she placed a hand on Liall’s forehead and murmured something they could not hear. Almost at once his breathing became deeper, stronger. He stirred, opened his eyes and looked at her. He frowned slightly, puzzled. Then he saw Neva standing behind her and his face cleared. He smiled and closed his eyes again.

  “He will sleep now,” said Mistress Silvia. “You will tend him, Neva?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will leave this with you.” And she handed over the basket with the herbs and ointment in it. “He should be well in two or three days. When he is, you may bring him to the cave.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  With a last glance at the wounded prince, Mistress Silvia left the room. Jartan went with her.

  “You know what to do?” asked Ivo.

  “Of course.”

  “How do you know?”

  “How do you think? It’s one of the things she taught me.”

  Ivo watched as Neva took strips of the grey cloth Mistress Silvia wove from spider’s silk and bound up Liall’s wounds. Then, since it was apparent that she intended to stay there, he went out, closing the door behind him.

  Jartan was sitting on the bench outside the hut. Mistress Silvia was gone.

  “You did well when you went out to get him, Ivo,” said Jartan. “Even better than when you saved Ronno. Were you afraid?”

  “I didn’t have time to be. Should I have been?”

  “The riders from Brunn didn’t know who you were. They probably thought you were from Andor, and they would have killed you if they could.”

  “I was too angry to think of that. Did they kill all the others?”

  “All save one. He escaped.”

  “The one with the black beard—Rendel?”

  “No. He is dead.”

  “I didn’t like him, but he was brave. He did his best to protect Liall.”

  “He was the captain of his bodyguard. He was pledged to protect him even at the cost of his own life.”

  “Why did the riders from Brunn attack that way? Liall and those with him were doing nothing wrong.”

  “They were from Andor, and they were on or across the border.”

  “But to attack them … Not just attack but kill them! …”

  “It is what happens when two countries hate and fear one another.”

  “Well, I’m glad that one of them escaped. He will tell the king that Liall is not dead.”

  “Let us say that the king will at least hope that Liall is not dead. And so he will do nothing—at least for the time being.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He will not know where Liall is. He may think that he was captured and he will send an emissary to Brunn to find out and offer ransom.”

  “By that time Liall will be well enough to leave here and go home.”

  “He may be,” said Jartan. “In the meantime, since he has your room, we had better fix a place for you to sleep.”

  Taking the axe, they went off and cut pine boughs, brought them back and piled them up next to the fireplace. They had just finished when Neva came out of Ivo’s room.

  “How is he?” asked Ivo.

  “He seems better. He woke up a little while ago and wanted to know where he was and how he got here. I told him, and now he would like to talk to you.”

  “Are you coming in, too?”

  “In a moment. He’s thirsty and I’m going to brew some herb tea for him.”

  Ivo went in, and as Neva had said, Liall did look better than he had. He was no longer quite so pale and his eyes were clear.

  “Neva told me what you did,” he said simply but gravely. “I would like to thank you for it.”

  “There’s no need to.”

  “When you saved my
life?” He smiled faintly. “That would mean you don’t value it at much.”

  “That’s not so. I meant how could I do less after what you did for me?”

  “I risked nothing by letting you go. You risked your life. I won’t forget it. And neither will my uncle, the king.” He hesitated a moment. “Did any of those with me escape?”

  “Jartan says that one of them did.”

  “Then my uncle will know that I’m safe.”

  “He’ll at least have reason to hope that you are.” Now Ivo hesitated, then asked a question to which he was fairly sure he knew the answer. “Why did you come back here?”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “But why?”

  Liall shrugged. “Curiosity. There have been many stories about the forest. It has always been said that parts of it were enchanted, but it wasn’t thought that anyone lived here. When I realized that what you had said was true—that this was where you came from—I thought I’d like to see you again.”

  “And also Neva.”

  “Yes,” said Liall straightforwardly. “I only caught a glimpse of her but I was as curious about her as about you. When I leave here, I hope you’ll both come back to Lantar with me.”

  “Lantar?”

  “You know nothing about Andor?”

  “Very little.”

  “Neva said neither of you had ever been outside the forest, but I found it hard to believe you had not heard of Lantar. It is our largest and fairest city.”

  Neva came back in now with a steaming goblet of herb tea and told Ivo that he’d better go, that after Liall drank it he should sleep again. Ivo left, thinking that she would be coming out shortly too, but she didn’t. She remained with Liall for most of the afternoon and for a good part of the evening, too.

  Though the bed of pine boughs was comfortable enough, Ivo did not sleep well that night, finding it strange to be there in the hut’s big room rather than in his own. He lay awake for some time listening to the soft whispering of the trees, and when he did fall asleep his dreams were disturbing, for in them he was searching for something he had lost and he was not sure what it was.

  When he woke in the morning, Jartan was already up, baking flat bread in the embers of the fireplace, and shortly after that Neva came out of her room and went in to see how Liall was. He had slept very well, she reported later, and was feeling much stronger, but he would still need care and so she thought she would stay with him rather than go to the cave with Ivo.