Guardians of the Gate

by Louis Trimble

  “I can’t believe those verses came from the original manuscript, the one now with Bator in Fenn.”

  “Of course not, no more than the verses you read in Korv. The original is very old and very brittle. I studied from a copy, one without the words of Vacor.” Teron said, “The version in the library at Korv is reputed to be an exact copy of the original manuscript lacking only the verses in Vacor’s own hand—of which I never heard until I met you. And the words you just recited are not in the version I studied.”

  His mind raced ahead, seeking the full answer. He had expected Eldra to control the weather with a black box such as his father’s. He had never expected her to actually depend on a literal presentation of the actions described in the Song. And, of course, she hadn’t. In the Korvan version the original Eldra had.

  He said, “The verses are much like those you sang. But you left out lines that occur in the Korvan version.

  ‘She faced Zarz, her face to Zarz.

  The radiance touched her body, her unblemished skin.

  Divested of all made by man,

  Elemental she faced the radiance of Zarz.

  She was as she had been created.

  She raised her arms to Zarz ..”

  “But why would your version and mine be different?” “If my experience with many of the epics and songs and sagas of Zarza has any meaning,” he said, “the difference comes from the time when the manuscript was copied. Different periods in the history of a country create different copies.”

  He saw her puzzled expression. “If the original was written, let’s say, under a beloved king and extols that king and then in the time of a usurper copies are made, the copies are hardly going to extol the king the usurper replaced. The same is true when religious fervor sweeps

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  a land. A version copied during such a time will reflect that fervor.”

  Eldra shook her head. “But there is nothing in your verses to indicate ...” She stopped, her eyes widening with realization. “There was a time in our history, just before that in which Pandro’s father came to the throne when . . .” She shook her head. “But it’s so silly!”

  “What’s silly?” he prodded gently,

  ‘In that time, all during the quarter-century reign of Odro, the priest-king, everyone, men and women alike, had to keep themselves covered from neck to ankle and wrist and wear head coverings as well. Odro, or those who ruled him from the temple, had a revelation that the body was evil and sight of it would bring strength to Udrig.”

  “Probably a poisoning of their minds by men controlled by Udrig himself,” Teron said dryly. The words had come out spontaneously, and when she said softly, “You are beginning to believe,” he grunted and answered nothing.

  Eldra rose. “The verses I recited. They were the same? And my dance?”

  “The same,” he admitted. “Both as I told you them.”

  Returning to the circle, she removed her clothing and laid it on the ground. Adjusting the wreath of tel leaves, she stepped inside the circle, faced the sun and lifted her arms. The radiance of Zarz touched her body, stroking it with soft fingers of gold, revealing a beauty beyond words. Where once Teron’s desire had been to comfort her, now he desired to make her part of him, to join with her. A tide of destiny, indeed, which could send such uncontrolled emotion through his whole being —for he had always taken great pride in being a rational man. He sought refuge from his own confusion and desire by watching Eldra dance as she had before.

  “ i summon die Iiffi of Eliff.’ *

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  But a strange voice, unlike her own, came through her lips to chant:

  “ ‘I ask Eliff for the power.

  I ask Eliff to bring the rains.

  To bring life-giving water to Zarza.

  Water for the thirst of the soil.

  Water for Zarza I ask Eliff.

  I ask through the liffi.

  I Seventh of Erul.

  I descended from Eldra, from Vacor.

  I child of Vacor and Eldra ask.’ ”

  Her body stretched as she reached higher and higher toward the sun called Zarz. Her voice took on a pleading.

  “ ‘Eliff, there is need for thee!

  The forces of Udrig grow strong!

  The heat of Zarz bums the land.

  Send your liffi, Eliff.

  Help us, the living of Zarz.

  Help us against the forces of Udrig.

  Help us against the burning of Zarz.

  Hide the flaming body of Zarz.

  Eliff, bring the Waters to the land!.

  Drown the forces of Udrig.

  Eliff, there is great need of thee!’ ”

  Teron could feel a difference in Eldra. Her absorption was complete;. she was unaware of her surroundings. Her dance was without conscious control. The words she chanted in that strange voice came without hesitation.

  From ten meters away he could see the sheen of sweat covering her smooth skin as she repeated the final verse the prescribed seven times.

  Then she cried in a voice passionate with need, “The rains, Eliff! The rains!”

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  Teron felt the touch of coolness. He looted into the sky to see the long fingers of dark clouds coming from seven directions. He stood transfixed as they moved toward one another, slowly converging on the bright sun. They lengthened, darkening as they moved, and finally they met. The sun was dimmed; Zarz was gone.

  A deep shadow fell over the clearing where Eldra and Teron stood. But he could see Zarz still shining in the distance, beyond the copse. The coolness grew. The massed cloud split and one drop of rain, then a second and a third struck down on them. The cloud rent and a breath-shattering slash of icy rain deluged their bodies.

  It stopped. The clouds drew back, seven receding fingers, until they were gone. Once again Zarz shone warmly down. The breeze softened and dried them.

  Teron turned toward Eldra just in time to catch her body as she collapsed from exhaustion. She breathed softly, her heartbeat was strong, but weariness had drawn cruel lines on her face. He dressed her and wrapped her in his cloak so she should take no hurt from her exertion nor suffer embarrassment should some of the late Odro’s strictures still bind her mind. In Ter- on’s experience females—otherwise apparently quite rational—sometimes treasured such prohibitions.

  Finally she opened her eyes and smiled as she sat up. “Teron, we are not even joined but I have found new powersl The Old One was right. You are indeed my mate!”

  He said quickly, “Let’s get back to the city. We have planning to do. Besides, I grow hungry.”

  She smiled, a pleased, secret little smile, and let him help her to her feet. Leading the way, she crawled through the tunnel to where their sahrs waited.

  She gasped as she stepped into the open. “Teron! Go back!”

  Her warning was too late. A thong rope settled over his shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. A vicious jerk brought him out of the tunnel to sprawl at Davok’s feet. The Fennish warlord’s face glowed with satisfaction.

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  “Exactly as you predicted, Korox. We got them both!”

  The wizard sat, thin as hunger, on the sahr at Davok’s right hand. His face did not change expression and he spoke no word, but his eyes glittered.

  Davok stooped with a hunters grace. He jerked Teron’s spellstaff from its holder. “Now try to escape, spellmaker!” His laughter rumbled. “By this time tomorrow you’ll be in Fenn wishing you’d never challenged the power of Davok the Great!”

  VII

  "You ADMIT NOW my drig speak the truth, great king-to- be,” Korox said, his voice steel edged.

  “I neither saw a drig nor heard one,” Davok said with unimpaired good humor. “If you think a drig told you where we’d find the spellmaker and the Seventh, I’ve no objection. But as far as I’m concerned it was you who told me.”

  “Then per
haps I’m worthy of some reward,” false humility ill suited the spellmaker’s harsh voice.

  “If you’re thinking of the spellstaff, Korox, remember you only told me where to find its owner. I captured both with my own hands, and the Seventh to boot. I think I’ll hold it myself for awhile. That’s not to say I won’t give it to you when I think the time is right.”

  “The time may come when you fear someone yourself, Your Majesty,” Korox muttered.

  “And none of you’re sullens, either,” Davok boomed. “Look at it this way. A spellstaff is an unwieldy thing to carry unless you’re a spellmaker and used to it or a first class sahr rider. As you’re neither, make the best of things, wizard!”

  Davok thrust the ropes holding Eldra and Teron into the hands of one of the warriors holding his sahr. As he swung into the saddle, he said to the other, “See the

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  prisoners are well bound. I want no spellmaker’s tricks nor Seventh’s spells this trip.”

  Teron made no effort to struggle as he was lifted onto a sahr and his legs bound to its belly. The rope which had snared him was removed and a series of tight lashings substituted.

  Eldra struggled defiantly against her captors until Teron said quietly, “Don’t waste your strength.”

  In a moment they sat, legs touching, while Davok readied his small party for marching. “If I did not know better,” Eldra said stiffly, Td think you were one of them. Why do you sit there. Cast a spell or something.” "We want to get to Bator in Fenn, don’t we?” he asked. “Why not let them take us?”

  Eldra shivered. “I’m afraid, Teron. You heard Korox! If he has drig watching us ...”

  Teron pressed his leg against hers in reassurance. “Drig!” he snorted. “I felt no drig today, but I saw Roosk sailing across the sky in his windbag. I’d guess his harmless toy has been very useful—to Fenn.”

  Davok snapped an order, and they were separated Just as Eldra bent her head in agreement. The party moved at a swift pace, keeping the wood between themselves and Erul until they neared the mountains. A cool wind blew at them becoming colder as they neared the peaks. Teron huddled into himself but found little relief from the chill. And then he realized the wind carried more than discomfort; it carried the voices of Davok and Korox who rode just ahead of him. By concentrating, he could make out their actual words.

  . . unreasonable,” Korox whined. “Why won’t you believe I can summon drig at will?”

  “I neither believe nor disbelieve,” Davok said. “I do say my plan is better than yours.”

  “You are a fool!” Korox cried. “Udrig will destroy Eliff. Why do you persist in preferring a weakling?” He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was as cold as the wind carrying it to Teron’s ears. “For two years now you have grown more powerful by following

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  my suggestions. Do you think my power comes from Eliff?”

  “I know not where your power comes from,” Davok growled. “But I do know that Udrig remains imprisoned in the Whitelands. None of your advice has yet allowed me to breach that border. The handful of Whitelander slaves plucked from the Cold Sea’s bosom were gathered in through my own schemes. The Guardians of the Gates are still free, and like to stay that way until I forget that terrible winter invasion you told me would be so successful. A full regiment of my best men frozen in the white rain!”

  Teron, who watched as well as listened, saw the wizard’s body stiffen with anger and the cold voice grow molten with fury. “Do you wish to go back to what you were, little more than a beast, living as beasts must live. Who opened your eyes to horizons broad as all Zarza, you who could barely think in terms of acquiring Erul. I thought you could run before you walked. I will go elsewhere ...”

  “Don’t be so touchy,” Davok said. “Once we get the secret of Eliff’s power from die spellmaker and the Seventh, we’ll have power such as even you have never dreamed of.”

  Korox made no reply.

  Davok spoke again, this time with a voice grown sly, “Prove me wrong. Show me how to conquer both Erul and the Whitelands with no lost regiments, and I’ll admit anything you please.” A stronger note of conciliation entered his voice after he had glanced sidewise at the stiff-riding wizard. “We could make a contest of it, Korox. I’ll stand for Eliff. You stand for Udrig. If I can command Eliff’s powers before you command Udrig’s, we do as I plan. Otherwise, we follow your scheme. Doesn’t that interest you?”

  “You’re a fool,” Korox snapped. “This is no game!” He rode on in silence and then said, “But words are wasted on you. Only actions have any meaning. I accept your challengel”

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  Davok slapped the wizard’s shoulder with a jarring hand, “Friendly enemies, eh?”

  Teron opened his mind, reached out from it toward Korox hoping to sense the wizard’s emotions. Often he’d been able to do as much with audiences in smoky taverns. What he sensed was hatred, striking his mind like a fist, followed by a shocking revelation of thought twisting and writhing through a devious mind—an un- slakable thirst for power. The moment of mentaler ability fled Teron as though the wind had blown it away.

  Davok said, “I don’t care which you choose to conquer first, Erul or the Whitelands. But those are the stakes, Korox.” He laughed. “With those two countries in my grasp all Zarza will soon follow.”

  Teron wasn’t the only one who could make out the words of the men ahead. One of his guards hunched into his great mantle of skins and muttered, “I won’t be marching to the Whitelands again, not for all the big Whitelander wenches I could bed. If Whitelander spears don’t spit you, the weather freezes the blood in your veins.”

  His companion answered with a grunt and dropped back, drawing Teron with him. The trail narrowed as it started into the mountains and for some time they rode single file through tall, dark trees. Then they broke into an open stretch of flat land. Below them Teron saw the Valley of Erul. All he saw ahead was a sheer mountain wall.

  They stopped on the flat to eat. Under Davok’s direction, both Teron and Eldra were unlashed from their sahrs and tied loosely to a large log. Their arms were freed sufficiently so they could feed themselves. Eldra fell asleep after that, her head on Teron’s shoulder. Teron made no effort to undo the simple knots that bound them, for he thought Davok offered a better chance of entering Fenn and reaching Bator and the precious manuscript than any amount of undercover infiltration.

  With darkness the party moved on again. The cold

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  was more intense, and Teron noticed immediately that despite his cloak which she still wore, Eldra’s light clothing was pitiful protection from the wind. One by one, he tested the knots that bound him. As he had supposed, they were child’s play for a man who did escape tricks for a living. In minutes his ropes hung loose. Once his hands were free, he kneed his sahr past the dozing guards and rode beside Davok.

  “A chill night,” he remarked quietly. “You and your warriors have skin robes yet you gave none to the Seventh nor to me.”

  Dawk’s head shot out of his mantle like a turtle’s from its shell. His hand was ready on his sword hilt.

  “I wish no duel,” Teron said formally, “though I could have struck you down had violence been my intent.” He glanced across Davok to Korox. "You and your wizard both.” He laughed. “I suppose his drig have gone to sleep for the night.”

  “Well, wizard, have they?” Dawk growled.

  “An entertainers escape trick brought him to your side. No more,” Korox said, without even glancing at Teron.

  Dawk's hand stayed on his sWord. “Ride back to your place, spellmaker, or you’ll reach Fenn colder than you are now.”

  Teron ignored him. “If you have any use for the Seventh, see that she’s given a warm cloak and that she can ride with her arms free. Otherwise, you’ll have a corpse not a woman on your hands.”

  Davok shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Ca
lling to his guards, he ordered them to find skin robes for both Eldra and Teron and to loosen the bonds on her arms. “And keep your swords handy,” he finished. “When I want a spellmaker to ride beside me, I’ll order itl”

  They rode more comfortably after that, but Eldra didn’t speak to him until they were on the other side of the mountains and huddled in a hut, where a fire was built and half-cooked meat brought to them. Then

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  she said, “When you were free, why didn’t you ride to Erul for help?”

  He lifted his eyebrows as he discerned the irritation in her voice. “I explained that once,” he said. “But I’ll do as you ask if you can think of a better way for us to get to Fenn.”

  “Davok is cruel,” she said. “He’ll put us in his dungeons.”

  “If so, we’ll move to more comfortable quarters,” Teron answered. He touched her hand. “Davok has no chains that can hold me, that I swear to you.”

  Eldra sniffed and looked away. Teron wondered why future dangers always frightened her so. Present discomforts she made the best of. Probably, he thought, he would never understand her. He made himself relax and save his strength for the unknown which lay ahead.

  He dozed from time to time until daybreak when Davok himself came to wake them and bind them on their sahrs. As they started down the mountainside, Teron had his first look at Fenn. At first sight he wondered how an island such as Dule could contain lands as lovely as Erul and as forbidding as Fenn.

  Below them a dark slash in the earth held a churns ing river, like a seething wound in the morning light. Crude stone huts perched here and there on the sunless slopes and a few domestic animals wandered about disconsolately seeking the rare pocket of grass on land where the rock ribs of the earth protruded like a giant’s half-buried skeleton. The sun rose as they reached the foot of the mountains but its light was drowned by a sullen sea of clouds overhead. Finally they rounded a great cliff of black rock and saw Snerg, the capital city of Fenn.

  The ocean here was no longer called the Warm Sea by geographers but, right at Snerg, became the Cold Sea. It was cold and gray and carried foam like white anger on the battalions of waves it smashed against the rocky shore. Snerg was a secret city half mined into the black rock it stood on. Even the castle, which rose well above