A Necklace of Fallen Stars

by Beth Hilgartner

  "No!" she cried. "Father, he isn't even a lord. What have I done—"

  "Daughter," he snapped, "I am not inviting discussion of the matter. It is done."

  Melina stared at her father and his crony in horror. "I will not marry him, Father, if I have to turn rebellious and run off like Kaela!" Her voice softened and her lip began to tremble. A tear slid gently down her cheek and dropped onto the table. "Please, Father, I have tried to be good. Please don't make me..." Her voice broke and she turned her face away to hide the tears.

  "Stop crying at once!" he commanded, moved only to anger by her pleading. "Master Stafgrym has something to show us."

  Melina sniffed once then wiped her eyes and looked toward Stafgrym, who was murmuring words in a strange tongue, while he held the crystal cupped in his hands. It began to glow. Then suddenly, images began to dance and leap in it: a signpost bearing the message, Tilnak 12 miles, on it; Kaela crouching in the bushes by the road, fear in her gray eyes; she and a young, fairhaired man walking together and laughing; the same two looking at a stormy sky. Then, suddenly, there was a flash of lightning and the globe went dark.

  "Well," said Stafgrym, rising and pacing toward a window. His eyes were full of cold anger. "He lied to me," he growled, reaching out with his hands, as if to grasp and twist his enemy's throat. The crystal lay unnoticed on the table, for the King's attention was fixed upon the wizard.

  Melina seized her moment—and the stone—deciding that if she were caught, she would say she simply had wanted a closer look; but neither of the men took any notice. She hid the stone in a fold of her robe, devoutly hoping that Stafgrym would assume he had tucked it away into his own tunic.

  "Who lied to you?" the King demanded, interrupting Stafgrym's train of thought. The wizard let his hands drop and regarded the King.

  "That man we saw with your daughter. He told me he had met her in Achra—that much was true—and that she had gone to the barges, while all the time she was right there, cowering in the bushes! My revenge will be sweet."

  "You were that near her and she slid through your fingers?" the King demanded. "What of your great powers? Why did they not aid you?"

  "It was that man's fault. He cried out that I was going to put a curse on him; that fool captain supported him and told me to watch my step with wizardry if I didn't want to be roasted. They are all on Kaela's side."

  "In that case, you'd better go alone this time," the King remarked, "since my soldiers are a hindrance to you. If Kaela and that fellow are going through Tilnak, they must be heading for Poor Man's Pass, don't you agree?"

  "Aye," the wizard replied. "I shall have to catch them before they get into the mountains."

  "Why?" asked Melina and the King together.

  Stafgrym blinked and hesitated, then said, "Why—well—there are so many more—uh—hiding places once they get into the mountains."

  He's lying! thought Melina, amazed. Why? What could he fear? Then, she remembered.

  "Poor Man's Pass," she mused, innocently. "Didn't it used to be called 'The Pass of the White Lady'?"

  "No!" Stafgrym exploded.

  "I'm sorry," Melina said with a sulkiness in her voice to mask the smile in her heart. "I was just asking. I seem to remember some legend about the white witch who guards the pass from all evil and—"

  "Hold your tongue!" he snapped. Then in an effort to regain composure, added, "You young women can't keep fact separated from fancy. No doubt your storyteller sister made up such a legend to amuse you." His words were too rapid and his eyes shifted as he spoke.

  Melina smiled sweetly. "No doubt. May I go, Father, or is there anything else you want?"

  "I don't need anything, child," he said absently, puzzled by the wizard's peculiar behavior. "How soon will you leave, Stafgrym?"

  "I'll need a fresh horse and some food, and then..." he shrugged, "I'm ready."

  "Oh, Melina," the King summoned her back. "Run to the stable and have Konal saddle up Puma for Master Stafgrym. Then see if there's a loaf or two and some cheese in the kitchen—there's a good lass. Stafgrym and I will finish up our business and then you can meet him in the stable with the food—oh, and maybe a flask of wine, too."

  Melina curtsied and hurried out, before her father thought better of it and sent servants instead. She knew how to delay the wizard's departure, and give Kaela and her companion more of a chance of reaching the Pass of the White Lady—and whatever it was that Stafgrym feared.

  As soon as she reached the stable, she collared Konal, the old head groom who had taught Melina to ride and had helped Kaela break her own pony.

  "Konal," she began desperately. "Is Puma lame?"

  "Puma?" He ran his hand through his rough gray hair. "Nay, Lady Princess. Who is it asking for her?"

  "Master Stafgrym."

  The old man spat. "That wizard-cur! Why, only last night he rode out on Falcon and the poor, gallant fellow returned with his wind nigh broke! What's he want with my Puma?"

  Despite the fact that the beautiful, buckskin colored mare belonged to the King, Konal had always thought of her as his own. He had raised her and trained her himself, jealously guarding her from the other grooms and trainers. Never, he had often been heard to say, had he seen a horse so sweet, so gentle, so swift and tireless.

  "He's taking her to Poor Man's Pass to catch Kaela." Konal glared at the girl. "No, he is not," he said fiercely. "Poor Man's Pass indeed! She's lame."

  Melina smiled. "Who can he take, Konal?" she asked. "He'll be along shortly."

  The old man considered seriously, then an impish light kindled in his pale blue eyes. "Why, Lady Princess, he can take Red. '

  She chuckled. Red, though lovely to look at and very swift, had an ornery streak in him and had been known to toss his rider in a ditch for very little provocation. He was not a horse to be ridden hard.

  Then she sobered. "You must make Puma look lame, Konal."

  "Get along with ye," he growled, good-naturedly. "And don't go teaching me my business."

  She laughed and went quickly to the kitchens. She found what was needed and packed the supplies into a rucksack. Then she raced back to the stables.

  "The King said Puma, you blunderer," Stafgrym was raging.

  "I was about to tell you, master," Konal said, distinctly and very slowly, "that when I got Puma out to tack her up, she led out lame. Now, she might be all right for a short distance at a slow pace, but I'd not take her a step over two miles, nor any faster than an easy trot. Could it be you still want Puma?"

  "No," he snapped. "Saddle Falcon."

  The groom shook his head. "No, sir. Falcon's still winded from today. You'll want a fresh mount. Why not Red, master?" Konal gestured indifferently to the big horse's stall. "He's strong and he's fast—and he's fresh."

  "Oh, I don't care," Stafgrym said. "Saddle him up and be quick. Oh, Lady Princess," he added when he saw her, "have you got the food?"

  She silently handed him the rucksack.

  "What do you know about this Red?" he demanded, sullenly.

  "Well, Master Stafgrym," she replied innocently, "Red isn't a lady's mount, but the men I've seen on him usually carry crops. I guess he is a bit on the lazy side."

  "Hmph. Then I shall have to fetch mine. Stay here, Lady Princess, and see that these sluggards don't dally." Stafgrym charged off angrily.

  Melina smiled to herself as she watched him go. If he missed his globe now, it would be reasonable to suggest that it had fallen out of his tunic as he ran. Suddenly, Melina became aware that old Konal was watching her, chuckling.

  "Well, Lady Princess," he said. "You've mischief's own heart in you, you have. A crop on Red, indeed!"

  They both laughed.

  "He'll be back any minute," she said. "Is Red tacked up?

  Konal nodded. "You want to hold him for the wizard-cur?"

  She took the reins and waited. Soon, Stafgrym returned. He mounted Red, who began to fidget as soon as he realized his rider had a crop; the wizard flick
ed him with it, lightly, to make him behave, but it had the opposite effect. Red tossed his head and bucked violently. Stafgrym clutched the large animal's mane and held on. His robes flapped ridiculously, while he croaked, "Steady lad, steady."

  One of the stableboys, a lad of ten or so, ran forward and caught the reins, stopped the plunging beast. He looked up at the wizard, trying hard to control his giggles and succeeding only as far as not laughing in the man's face.

  "I don't think," the boy said, mischief inspiring him, "I've ever seen Red behave like that. Perhaps we ought to get you a mount you can handle, like Daisy, or Rosie over there." The lad gestured in the direction of the nearest pasture, where an ancient, swaybacked old mare stood placidly cropping grass. Several people laughed.

  Angrily Stafgrym straightened himself in the saddle, untangled his reins and his robes and glared down his nose at the boy. "Insolent whelp!" he said. "Red was—was stung by a bee." He patted the horse nervously, unfortunately with the hand that held the crop, and Red began to fidget. "Red and I shall get on famously, I assure you."

  "If you say so, master," the lad said doubtfully.

  Stafgrym nudged Red with his heels and the horse danced sideways toward the gate. As they went off, Melina and the others could hear the wizard crooning frantically, "Easy, Red. Steady, boy."

  Melina grinned at them all and waved farewell. She quickly calculated the time till the evening meal. There was barely an hour, she judged, perhaps less, and it would never do to be late; but she had to get rid of Stafgrym's crystal, and she knew of only one place where it would likely never be found. Walking as fast as she could without attracting attention, she set off for the high bluffs overlooking the sea that were on the western edge of the palace grounds.

  By the time she reached the place, the sunlight was nearly gone and evening shadows were filling the hollows of the footpath. The path ran along the top of cliffs that fell sheer and tall to the edge of the angry sea. The waves frothed about huge boulders set like jagged teeth below her, and the drops of spray they flung up caught the sun's red glow like showers of red stars. With a guilty look about her, Melina took the crystal from her pocket and threw it, in a long, graceful arc, into the sea. Then, catching up her skirts, she ran back to the castle, hoping she would have time to change clothing before dinner. As she hurried, a rush of joy and relief filled her. The crystal was gone; Kaela was miles away! With any luck. Master Stafgrym would spend half the night chasing Red after he was thrown. But one niggling doubt destroyed her elation: what if whatever Stafgrym was afraid of at the Pass of the White Lady were a danger also to Kaela and her companion?

  ***

  Princess Tamera glanced out the window of her sitting room, attempting to judge the time by the sun. A movement caught her eye and she peered more carefully. There was a figure standing at the cliff top; it looked like Melina. She drew her hand back as if throwing something. The object caught the light on its way down, but Tamera could not see what it was.

  "I wonder what she's up to," she thought to herself. Then she returned to her dressing table. There was just one curl that wouldn't fall properly... The second gong rang and she hurried down to dinner.

  Chapter Five

  The morning dawned clear and fine, the air damp-scented. Hali fixed a breakfast of griddle cakes, and all ate with a will. After the meal, the two travelers rose to leave.

  "We thank you for your hospitality," Kippen said, "but we must be off again on our way." He smiled ruefully. "It is a long walk through the mountains."

  Hali smiled dreamily. "But you will walk in the peace of the Lady. It is her domain, the pass."

  Kaela looked puzzled. "What is the tale there, Hali? I have heard the White Lady spoken of before."

  The farmer's wife sighed. "It is a long tale, and one for which there is no end. The White Lady...she is—was, perhaps—a priestess, or a goddess; the guardian of the mountains. Few now remember her; perhaps she is in truth gone. But I would like to think that you will walk in her protection, for you are both dear to us."

  Kaela clasped the woman's hands in hers. "As you are to us. More than anything else, I thank you for that, for your friendship. It is a gift beyond price."

  Hali smiled. "But what a poor life we would lead if friendship and love were as closely guarded as other treasures. That is the wonder of it, that even the poorest beggar can have a wealth of friends and enough love to give away. Go with God, my children, and if ever in your travels you come near us again, promise that you will come to see us."

  "That is a promise made with a glad heart," Kaela replied, smiling at them, "for seldom have I found a roof with so much love beneath it." She rose and reached for her knapsack. As she lifted it, it seemed far heavier than she had remembered. There was a question in her eyes as she looked toward her hosts.

  Mablyr nodded. "I took the liberty..." he began. "There's cheese and bread, a few of the winter apples, some dried meat, wine—"

  Kaela embraced him.

  They all lined up at the gate to see the travelers off. Kippen began to play, a light, breezy melody that scampered like the kittens playing in the grass, and they set off down the damp road. Hali, Mablyr and the boys stood waving and calling until they were out of sight and the last note of the flute had melted into the bright air.

  All day the miles trudged away beneath their feet, and by midafternoon they had left towns and people behind. The meadows on either side of the road became copses, then woods, then at last dense forests where the fir trees let in little light and the forest floor was strewn with countless layers of old pine needles. The road itself grew narrower, until it was barely wide enough for a cart, and the ruts were deep and puddled; grass grew on the mound between the ruts, and the trees began to lean close over them.

  The road began to climb upward, never too steeply, for it snaked from side to side across the mountain. It seemed to Kaela that they had left spring behind them on the doorstep of the last farmhouse passed or in the warm, green fields and meadows. The air was crisper here, touched with the breath of winter from the high, snow-glazed peaks. The breeze even smelled cold, bringing with it the scent of the great fir forests all about them. She shivered and walked more quickly, hoping to warm her blood.

  "It will be much colder when the sun goes," Kippen said. "Perhaps we should get our cloaks out now, before we're chilled."

  Kaela looked doubtfully at the dull orange splashes of sunlight that managed to slip through the dark fingers of the trees and agreed. They halted long enough to take their cloaks out of their packs, rearrange the contents and settle cloaks and knapsacks back on their shoulders.

  "You're quiet, Kaela. Is something wrong?"

  "No," she replied, then, "yes. Oh, I don't know." She laughed wanly. "It's this forest: it feels so silent and brooding. I feel as though we were being watched or followed."

  Before Kippen could answer, some bird called, a high, eerie sound like mocking laughter. Kaela caught her breath.

  "I don't like this place, either," he said. "The trees themselves seem to have eyes. I—" he lowered his voice. "Kaela, I'm afraid. I simply can't get that wizard out of my thoughts. Do you remember what he said about his revenge?"

  She tried to laugh. "But that's all nonsense. At this moment he's probably miles west of here—at the canal or the toll road. He's probably forgotten all about you."

  "Let's hope so," Kippen agreed. "But I daren't count on it," he added to himself.

  They trudged on in silence while the shadows grew darker and longer. A wind sprang up from nowhere, bringing with it a silky white mist that threaded between the trees and tangled about the wanderers' faces. It grew colder and damp. Rustling noises began, and the branches groaned and squeaked like the creaking laughter of old voices. It seemed to Kaela she could hear quiet footfalls, but in the mist she could see nothing. Suddenly, through an opening in the mist, Kaela saw a pair of round yellow eyes watching them. She gave a strangled yelp and clutched Kippen's arm. With a derisive hoot
, the owl dove at them from its branch, then disappeared into the gloom, leaving only the echo of its cry behind.

  "It was only an owl," Kaela said to reassure herself. "Just a bird..."

  But Kippen did not answer. "Listen!" he commanded suddenly an instant later, and they both froze, tense and still.

  Kaela looked at Kippen, frightened, for the sound, though faint, was unmistakable: hoofbeats.

  "It may have nothing to do with us," she said doubtfully, but Kippen's face was pale and he was not convinced. He began to run. Kaela had no choice but to follow in his wake or lose him in the thickening mist.

  When she finally caught up with him, the hoofbeats were much clearer, though the rider was still hidden. She caught at Kippen's arm and shook it, like a terrier worrying a rabbit, trying to shake the panic out of him and force him to understand.

  "Let's hide," she gasped desperately. "Get off the road. In this mist and the dark he won't see us—he'll pass us! Down! Quickly!"

  They both dove for the ditch and rolled into the scant cover of shadows. From the sound of the hoofbeats, the rider was almost upon them. In a moment he would be past. And then, as if the forest itself had been mocking them, there was a sudden roar of wind that rent the mist and swept the pieces away. The strange, eerie birdcall came again, nearer, cruder. It's inhuman laughter was joined by that of another voice: Stafgrym's.

  Kaela looked up from where she cowered in the weeds and saw him, laughing down at her from the back of his horse. She crouched, frozen like a bird before a snake, while his horrible laughter rang all about them. Kippen sprang to his feet and rushed at the wizard.

  "You shall not harm her!" Kippen cried, reaching up to drag the wizard from his seat.

  The startled horse reared and plunged, narrowly missing the minstrel with its sharp hooves, but Stafgrym hung on, crying out words in a strange tongue. He flung out his arm. Tendrils of blood colored fire wrapped about Kippen's legs. They pulled him to the ground, coiling about him with a life of their own. One encircled his neck and began drawing itself tighter and tighter. Kaela screamed.