“From the time I first saw the crow, I did not think it was an ordinary one,” said Liall.
“And now it has gone off to tell someone where we are and what we are about,” said Ivo. “Do we still go on?”
“Yes,” said Liall firmly. “Without pretense now, and as quickly as we can.” And he put his horse into a canter.
They were still some eight or ten miles from the border, and they rode steadily, never pressing their horses but never slackening their pace. When they drew closer to the forest, they saw a break in it somewhat to the west and recognized the Burnt Place that they had passed on their way to Morven.
“There?” asked Ivo.
“It will be easier to cross there than finding our way through the forest,” said Liall.
But as they turned towards it, they heard a shrill horn blast and, coming over a hill to their left, they saw a dozen or more armed riders.
“This is what the king meant,” said Neva, reining in. “What now?”
“They are our men and will know me,” said Liall. “It may be that I can talk to them.”
“Even if they don’t have their orders—and they must have—they will never let you go over into Brunn,” said Ivo.
“Are you saying we should give up then?”
“No. But we have need of some sleight or trick to do what we wish. Let us ride towards them slowly. Then we’ll turn and try for the forest.”
Liall measured the distance to the advancing patrol.
“It may be that we can do it,” he said. “Let us try.”
They started forward again, walking their horses and edging closer to the forest as they approached the patrol. Seeing them coming towards them, the border guards slowed up also, and their captain waved to them. Liall waved back. Then,
“Now!” said Ivo and pulling his horse around sharply, he put it into a gallop, riding straight for the forest.
He heard a shout behind him and, looking back, saw that the guards were galloping after them. It was going to be close.
They were some forty or fifty yards from the forest now, and he scanned it, looking for a place where the trees grew far enough apart for them to ride through. He saw such a place between an oak and a beech, and he rode towards it, but just before he reached it, his horse swerved away and reared, whinnying in fear, and almost threw him. With an exclamation, he tried to turn it back and try again, but he could not. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Neva’s and Liall’s horses had balked also.
“Here,” said a voice. “Quickly!”
About ten paces to their right, standing half in the forest and half out as if he were holding open a door, was a tall, grey-bearded man.
Neva, who was closest to him, rode towards him, and Ivo and Liall followed. Catching Neva’s horse by the bridle, the grey-bearded man led it into the forest, then stood aside while Ivo and Liall went in after her. Behind them they could hear the pounding of hoofs as the patrol galloped up, then shouts and whinnies as the horses reared and balked as their own had done. Scowling angrily, the captain was fighting his mount, trying again and again to get it to enter the forest. But somehow Ivo knew that he would not be able to. The door, if it had been a door, was closed.
Chapter 13
“You are safe now,” said the grey-bearded man.
“They will not come in here.”
“Then the tales that are told about the forest are true,” said Neva.
“I do not know what tales you mean,” said the man. “But none can come in without leave.”
“Your leave?” asked Liall.
“In this case, yes.”
He was tall—a little taller than Ivo—and powerfully built. His features were craggy and though his hair and beard were grey his blue eyes were sharp and clear.
“Why did you let us in?” asked Ivo.
“Because you seemed to need help.”
“We did,” said Ivo. “And we thank you for it. May we know your name?”
“Jartan.”
“Mine is Ivo. And this is Neva and Liall.”
He bowed slightly in acknowledgement. “Why were the guards chasing you?” he asked.
“To keep us from the border. We want to cross over into Brunn.”
“Ah, yes. They are very strict about that.”
“Could you help us there, too?” asked Liall. “Guide us through the forest?”
“Yes,” said Jartan. “But you have been riding hard and your horses are tired. It might be best for you to spend the night here with me, and I will take you where you want to go in the morning.”
“You’re very kind,” said Neva. “We would be most grateful.”
He nodded gravely. “I will show you where you can leave your horses.”
He picked up an axe that was lying nearby and set off along a narrow path.
“Are you a woodcutter?” asked Ivo.
“Among other things. Today I happened to be cutting wood.”
They followed him, leading the horses. The trees were very tall and green and seemed strangely alive, bending and rustling softly though there was no wind. Finally they came to a large, grassy clearing where a grey charger was grazing. He raised his head when they appeared, stood at gaze for a moment and then neighed and their horses nickered in answer. The charger walked towards them as they unsaddled their horses, and when they turned them loose he rubbed noses with each in turn.
“He seems glad to see them,” said Liall.
“Well, they’re company,” said Jartan. “There have been no other horses here for many years.”
“Is he yours?” asked Ivo.
“He came here with me.”
“Then he is yours.”
“Is he? Can any living creature belong to anyone else?”
“I had not thought of that,” said Ivo. “No.”
Jartan stroked the grey charger’s neck, then led the way back into the forest. This path was wider and they walked beside him rather than behind him. Suddenly a fox appeared out of the underbrush ahead of them. It stopped dead when it saw them and looked at them with wide brown eyes.
“It does not seem afraid,” said Liall.
“Why should it be afraid?” said Jartan. “There is no hunting here nor killing of any kind.”
“Is that by your commandment, too?”
“Nothing here is by my commandment.”
“Whose then?”
“I cannot tell you that,” said Jartan.
He looked fixedly at the fox, and the fox looked back at him then, with some reluctance, went trotting off.
They continued on along the path and in a while came to another, smaller clearing with a hut in the center of it. Its wattle and daub walls were covered with ivy, it had a thatched roof, and there was a bench in front of the door.
“Strange,” said Ivo. “I knew it would look like that.”
“Do you come from these parts?” asked Jartan.
“We do not know.”
“How is that?”
“We think a spell was put on us. In any case, we do not remember where we came from.”
“There are such spells,” said Jartan. “On the other hand, forest huts all look very much alike.” He opened the door of the hut. “Are you hungry?”
They all realized suddenly that they had eaten nothing since late that morning.
“Yes,” said Ivo.
“If you will wait out here, I will prepare our supper.”
“May we walk about until then?” asked Liall.
“You may go where you like, do what you like.”
He went into the hut, and they strolled across the clearing. There was another path on the far side of it, which they followed, walking under the whispering trees until they came to a large, clear forest pool. The sun was slanting down now, and though it was still pleasantly warm, the light was getting dim. Neva paused, staring across the pond and following her glance, Ivo saw two dark shapes there; a she bear and her cub, drinking.
They raised their head
s and, seeing them, the cub squealed and started around the pond towards them. The she bear growled softly, and the cub hesitated, then went back to her and they disappeared into the trees.
“None of the animals seem to fear us, yet they all avoid us,” said Liall.
“Yes,” said Ivo. He glanced at Neva. “You’ve been very quiet since we came into the forest.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
She shrugged and he looked at her searchingly. “You feel that all this is familiar, too?”
“Yes. I knew what the hut would look like just as you did.”
“That means nothing,” said Liall. “As Jartan said, all forest huts look much alike.”
“Perhaps,” said Neva. “But did you notice his clothes?”
Ivo thought for a moment. “His tunic was like the ones we were wearing when we found ourselves out on the heath—made of the same silvery cloth.”
“That means nothing either,” said Liall. “It could just be the kind of cloth they weave in these parts.”
“It could,” said Neva. “And it could be more than that.”
“You think that this is where we came from?” asked Ivo.
“Isn’t it possible?”
“I suppose so. But then … Are you saying that Jartan is our father?”
Neva hesitated. “No. Somehow I don’t think he is.”
“Neither do I. If he were, I’m sure we’d know him, spell or no spell. And if he knew us, wouldn’t he say so?”
“Perhaps there’s a spell on him, too, so that he doesn’t remember us any more than we do him.”
“We could ask him about it.”
“I don’t think we should.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Zothar was right and some power is helping us, then there’s a reason for everything that has happened. And while we may wonder about things, I don’t think we should inquire into them.”
“You mean, if we were meant to know, we would know or would be told.”
“Yes.”
Ivo frowned. “Very well. Then we’ll say nothing about it.”
Though the path continued on around the pool, they went no farther but turned and walked back. When they reached the clearing, Jartan was waiting for them. He brought out bread and bowls of soup and they sat on the bench outside the hut and ate. The soup was thick, made of mushrooms and barley, and was very good. While they were eating, Ivo studied Jartan. He had an unusual face. There was strength in it and dignity, but also great kindness and warmth. Could he have seen it before—not once but many times—and still not be able to remember it? Jartan caught his glance and returned it openly and directly, and Ivo dropped his eyes.
When they could eat no more, Jartan said, “None from Andor cross over into Brunn without a good reason. Do you have such a reason?”
“We think we have,” said Neva.
“Can you tell me what it is?”
“Yes. We hope that by doing so we can make peace between Andor and Brunn.”
“That is indeed a good reason,” said Jartan. “But it will not be easy. How do you hope to do it?”
“We’re not sure,” said Ivo. “There’s something we hope to find there. If we do find it, it may give us the answer.”
“It will not be easy even to enter Brunn. Guards watch the border there as they do in Andor. What will you tell them if they stop you and ask you who you are and where you come from?”
“We don’t know,” said Ivo. “What should we tell them?”
“You must come from somewhere in Brunn, but from a place that is not too near lest they ask you questions about it that you cannot answer. Perhaps you should say you come from Nordan.”
“Nordan?”
“It is far to the east and inland, high in the mountains.”
“And what are we doing in these parts?” asked Liall.
“We must think of a reason,” said Jartan. “Where do you wish to go in Brunn?”
“We don’t know that either,” said Liall. “But we should probably begin at Mirana.”
Jartan nodded. “Their great trial-at-arms is to be held soon—I think tomorrow. You can say you’re going to that.”
“And what is this trial-at-arms?” asked Ivo.
“Once a year those who consider themselves skilled swordsmen gather at Mirana to compete in single combat. Count Jeranus, their war leader, and Tarnir, captain of the Queen’s Guard, are the judges and they pick the best of the swordsmen to serve in the guard.”
Neva’s eyes became large and anxious.
“Are you saying that Ivo and Liall should enter the contest?” she said.
“No,” said Jartan. “They can be going there merely to watch the swordplay. There is no need for them to take part in it.”
“But can anyone who wishes do so?” asked Ivo.
“Yes. But why do you ask?”
“It is just something I thought we should know.”
“I take it that you are something of a swordsman?”
“He is,” said Liall. “The best that I’ve seen.”
“It’s possible that you would do well in the contests,” said Jartan. “Even well enough to be chosen as one of the queen’s guards. But what purpose would that serve?”
“It would give us a reason for staying on in Mirana,” said Ivo.
“And you think that is necessary?”
“It might be.”
“Well, that is for you to decide. But there is one other thing. Your name and Neva’s would mean nothing in Brunn. But yours, Liall, is almost as well known there as it is in Andor.”
“You know who I am then?” asked Liall.
“Yes. And I would call myself something else if I were you.”
“What would you call yourself?”
“Since you will be saying that you are from Nordan, you could call yourself Nord.”
“Nord of Nordan,” said Liall. “Very well.”
Jartan took the bowls into the hut, and Neva looked at Ivo.
“You are thinking of going into the trial-at-arms, aren’t you?” she said.
“I’m not sure.”
“Aren’t you? I think you are!” she said bitterly and getting up she walked off into the forest.
“Why is she so angry?” asked Ivo.
“Surely you know,” said Liall. “It could be dangerous, and she is your sister and very fond of you.”
“Yes,” said Ivo.
It was dark when Neva came back. She said nothing to either of them, and they all went into the hut. Jartan showed them where they should sleep: Neva in a room by herself, and Ivo and Liall in another one. Jartan himself slept in an alcove near the fireplace in the large room.
Tired from their long ride, Ivo fell asleep almost at once but woke sometime in the middle of the night and lay there for a while listening to Liall’s breathing and the soft sighing of the leaves outside. He felt strange, different, and at first he could not tell why. Then it came to him. For days now—the short time that he could remember—he had been living with a deep and frightening sense of loss. For as Neva had said in a different way, how could a man say, “I am,” if he did not know who he was? He had done those things which needed to be done but always with a feeling of uncertainty as if the very ground he walked on might give way, vanish as the past that had shaped him had. And whenever he had tried to go back, think back, he had been checked as his horse had been when he had tried to enter the forest. But he was in the forest now. Jartan had let him in. And though their quest would now take them into a place that was alien, unknown, and where the slightest mistake could be disastrous, he was not anxious. For the first time since he had found himself walking on the heath with Neva and Liall, he did not feel lost. It was as if he had come home after a long journey. And, at that moment at least, he felt—not only at peace—but hopeful, able to believe that if their quest was successful he would find that which he had been seeking—himself.
Though they were up earl
y the next morning, Jartan was up before them. He had baked oat cakes, and after they had eaten, he went to the large clearing with them. Their horses were rested and stood quietly while they were saddled, but seemed curiously unwilling to leave the pasture. It was only after the grey charger had nuzzled each of them that Neva was able to lead hers to where Jartan waited and the others followed.
Jartan led them north through the forest. He did not seem to be following a track or trail but he never hesitated, walking steadily ahead of them around fallen trees and patches of briars and waiting for them when they fell behind. Finally, about midmorning, he paused in a copse of beech trees and said, “There is Brunn.”
On the far side of the trees was a grassy plain that stretched green and level to the distant horizon.
“We thank you for your help and your hospitality,” said Neva.
He nodded and gave her a packet wrapped in green leaves.
“There is food in there,” he said. “You may need it before you get to Mirana.”
“We thank you for that, too,” said Ivo.
“There is naught to thank me for. But I must still let you out.”
Going to the edge of the copse, he raised his hands, pressing outward, then turned sideways, leaning back as if holding a door ajar.
“I wish you well on your quest. Be wary and discreet, but also of good heart for there is more in your favor than you know.”
“That we have long suspected,” said Ivo. “Will we see you again?”
“It may well be. When you are ready to come back, come this way. It will always be a place of refuge for you. And now, farewell.”
“Farewell, Jartan,” said Ivo. Stepping forward impulsively, he embraced him. Then, mounting, he rode out of the forest and onto the plain. Neva and Liall went after him. When they turned and looked back the green wall of the trees was unbroken and there was no sign of Jartan.
Chapter 14
Though they were uncertain about the exact location of Mirana, they knew it was on the sea, so they rode north, sure that sooner or later they would meet someone who would direct them to it. When they had gone about a mile from the forest, they spied horsemen in the distance, coming from the west, and they rode towards them. As they approached, they saw that it was a patrol of a dozen men, all bearing bucklers with the sea-serpent of Brunn on them.
The Shattered Stone Page 11