Guardians of the Gate

by Louis Trimble

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  the one story average of the houses surrounding it, was not impressive. It was built of the ubiquitous black stone and had few pretensions beyond its service as a fort. Only' a few hovels ventured beyond the walled city, but close by the sea was the compact huddle of a fishing village. In the forlorn light of day, Teron could just make out a dim land across the great Cold Sea Strait.

  “Are those the Whitelands on the horizon?” Teron asked his guard.

  “The southern tip of them,” the man agreed, and he lowered his head, moving his lips as if muttering a warning spell.

  What had brought men to such a forsaken land as Fenn, Teron wondered, what circumstances made them stay? He might have asked the guard but decided he’d prefer to ask Davok. The warlord’s knots were no more difficult than those of his warriors.

  This time the warrior king was not surprised to see him. “You again, spellmaker?”

  “Knots and chains won’t hold me, Davok,” Teron told him. “Why does Fenn hold you and your people. What brought you all here? What keeps you?”

  He was prepared to face anger, instead Davok laughed. “So you don’t know the history of Fenn either, and you a scholar. Never mind, spellmaker, few know, few care, almost none ask. We have no song; the deeds of Fenn aren’t sung by minstrels in front of foreign kings. But when I rule Zarza we shall have a song that will drown all others in beauty—and in blood.”

  “What will be in it,” Teron asked. “I see a desolate land and people who are driven by desperate ambition.” Davok chose to see no insult. “You see a disinherited people, spellmaker. None of our ancestors chose to come. They were the unwanted of every land along the Warm Sea, swept into prison ships and thrown down here like refuse. There were those that came from Korv and those from Pirin, from Xand and even from EruL And most of those who were thrown down on this

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  dreary shore died. But there were those who lived. We men of Fenn are their descendants. If we are cruel, it is because we learned cruelty from those who deny they are cruel. If we have coveted our neighbors land, it is because we starve on our own. Since Korox came, we’ve made wondrous strides forward. I dine as well as Pandro himself. I have clothes of cloth as well as skin. We have enough wood for fires and soft beds. And more than enough slaves to do our bidding. When I rule Zarza, even those outside the court will have such comforts here in Fenn.” In his enthusiasm he clapped Teron on the shoulder. “This night you’ll see as fine a court as Pandro himself can boast!”

  “You mean to entertain your prisoners in your court?” “Prisoners?” Davok echoed, with a burst of rumbling laughter. “You and the Seventh are my guests.”

  Having heard details of the contest Davok had entered with Korox, the joviality of his captor was understandable. “Do you always invite guests to Fenn by rope and raiding party?” Teron asked.

  “How else could we get anyone to visit us?” Davok demanded, and roared with laughter.

  Davok’s good humor carried them over the bridge above the deep moat and into a flagged courtyard. A dozen men in tattered livery appeared.

  “I bring the Seventh of Erul and the spellmaker of Korv as guests,” Davok shouted at them. “See they are treated well and given a slave for their needs. They will join us in the court for the evening meal.” He rode on along with Korox and his men.

  Teron and Eldra were helped from their sahrs and led silently down a dimly lighted corridor into a large room. Teron thought of Davok’s boast as he looked around. The room had one window, its pane made of scraped gut. The light came from torches smoking up the walls and sending wreaths of smoke out of sight toward the high ceiling. A fireplace, with wood laid but not lighted, promised the only heat. The main piece of furniture was a huge, canopied bed.

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  The wizened man who had escorted them into the room threw open the window to a view of the sea. “The fishing fleet has returned with flags flying,” he said. “All will eat well tonight.”

  “Right now we’d rather bathe, be wanned and rest,* Teron said pointedly.

  “To be sure,” the man said. He scurried away to return in a few minutes with a handsome woman close to Eldra’s age but a good head and more taller.

  The man said, “This is Inge. She will tend to your needs.” He left again.

  Teron studied Inge. She was not only tall and built to match her height, she had hair a color he had seldom seen, so pale a gold that it was almost white. She wore it in two long braids hanging to the middle of her back. A simple shift covered her from shoulder to knee. Skin boots came halfway up her calf. If she felt the chill in the room, she gave no sign.

  “We could do with some heat,” Teron said gently. “Then something warm to drink, a bath and sleep.”

  "Your bath is being readied,” Inge said. “I will light the fire and then see to the warm drink.”. She spoke clearly but with a distinct accent.

  The rhythm of her speech made Teron say, “You are from the Whitelands?”

  She smiled proudly. “Indeed, it is so. No other land grows people of such splendid size.”

  Eldra spoke for the first time since they had left the hut. “Why are you here in Fenn? Do you prefer it to your homeland?”

  “I am a slave,” Inge said. She seemed surprised at the question. “I and nearly a hundred others have been captured by Davok’s warriors these past two years.”

  Teron recalled the conversation he’d overheard during the ride. “Davok has never successfully invaded your land. How could he capture So many of you?”

  Inge lit the fire. It caught slowly then blossomed into flame. Heat made itself felt. Teron led Eldra to stand

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  in front of the flames. She jerked her arm from his hand.

  If Inge noticed, she made no comment. She said, in answer to Teron’s question, “They send drig to surround our fishing boats with darkness. We cannot take bearings. Then the warriors of Fenn net us as we net fish.” She stood defiantly erect. “No army on Zarza could invade the Valley of the Whitelands! We are the Guardians of the Gate.

  Teron studied her thoughtfully. “Are all Whitelanders as big as you ...”

  “Many are bigger!”

  “Then,” he continued, “a hundred of you could smash your way to freedom? Or don’t you wish to go?”

  “Of course we do. But escape is more easily talked about than accomplished, I assure you. There is no way to leave this castle. It is closely guarded at all times. So are the boats on the shore. This we White- landers have learned from experience.”

  “Just asking,” Teron said. He joined Eldra in front of the fire. “Now if we could have a little more wood...”

  “Soon. Your bath is ready.”

  Inge led both of them into a smaller room which held an enormous tub of heated seawater. Gently but firmly, the blonde girl peeled off their clothes and settled them

  into the water.

  To Teron’s amusement, Eldra elected to struggle. She might have been a three-year-old child for all the effort Inge had to exert to restrain her.

  “Please,” Inge said. “It is my duty. Do not make trouble for me.”

  “Just relax," Teron said. “A bath won’t hurt you.”

  Eldra crouched to her neck in the steaming water. She glared at him. “I am not accustomed to sharing my bath with a male.”

  “I’m your mate,” Teron pointed out, “not just any male.”

  “Matel I contracted to join with a spellmaker. And

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  what spells have you cast? Did you make the food palatable. Did you keep me from being nearly frozen to death for half the night? Did you take away the stench from that hide they finally wrapped me in? Spellmaker!”

  *Tve been saving my strength," he said lightly and watched in amusement as Inge took a bar of yellow soap, rubbed it on a great rag and scrubbed Eldra’s back.

  Eldra ducked away. “That stin
gs!”

  Inge held the soap and cloth out to Teron. “No female can resist having her lover scrub her back,” she said with a smile.

  “He isn’t my lover!” Eldra yowled.

  Teron tried not to laugh out loud. He said, “If you hold her, Inge, perhaps I can wash her.”

  Taking the rag, he soaped it and rubbed her back gently. “Are you trying to peel my hide?” she demanded.

  Teron had learned in his travels that each land had its own customs, so communal bathing was not unknown to him and he enjoyed it. But clearly Eldra had not experienced it before; and equally clearly she was not enjoying it.

  He said, “I think that will do. This water is hot enough to soak away any dirt she might have.”

  “But not all the dirt he has accumulated,” Eldra said spitefully. “Now let us clean his hide.”

  Inge took the cloth and soap and handed them to Eldra and held him by the elbows while Eldra advanced and scrubbed his chest Teron gasped as the strong soap and rough rag stung his skin. “Enough!”

  Eldra smiled sweetly and worked the soap in more thoroughly. “Take away the sting with a spell, Teron,” she said.

  Teron gave up and let himself be scrubbed. That finished, Inge helped them both from the tub and sluiced them with buckets of cold, fresh water. Before they finished gasping, they were.wrapped in rough robes and pummeled dry. Feeling like he had ridden a mean

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  sahr steadily for a week, Teron followed Eldra back to the other room. Someone had brought a jug of steaming liquid and two cups. Teron couldn’t identify the drink but found it palatable and warming.

  Inge threw back the covers of the huge bed. “Warmed by coals,” she said, withdrawing a wanning pan. “You will sleep well.”

  “I want another room,” Eldra said. “I won’t sleep with him without a net!”

  “In the name of Sidris,” he said, “that bed is big enough for a family. We could spend a month in it and never meet!”

  Inge settled the argument by unwrapping Eldra, picking her up and depositing her in the bed. She did the same for Teron despite his insistence he was capable of getting into bed by himself. Then, snuffing out the wall torches, she pulled dark curtains over the window. The only light came from the flickering fire.

  Teron said, “Go to sleep, Eldra. You’ll feel better when you’re rested.”

  She made a rude remark that started him chuckling again. With a sniff, she turned her back to him. Teron closed his eyes. He opened them fast enough when the covers were thrown back and living weight moved over his body and settled between him and Eldra.

  “For your warmth,” Inge explained, as she pulled the covers over them all. “People from Erul find the chill hard to bear.”

  Eldra whispered furiously, “Teron, if you so much as lay a finger on that overmuscled wench . . .”

  Teron was already asleep.

  VIII

  HE AWOKE to find they had been given new clothing while they slept. Inge was gone, the fire had been built up and the torches relit. Outside the night was cloud sullen and oozed a bone-chilling damp.

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  Eldra studied the skin tunic which now covered her from neck to knees. Her legs were encased in skin boots tvhich came well up her calves. “At least it is warm and soft,” she said.

  “You make it look good,” Teron said. “What did they provide for me?”

  “Much the same,” Eldra said, “but with a sword belt —empty, of course.”

  As he dressed, he wondered whether it was the rest or the new clothes that had soothed her irritation. He noticed that the fur had been left on the skins and was turned inside so it helped warm his body. He wore his own belt in preference to the one provided. He thought that if he ever grew used to wearing skirts the skin gown would prove comfortable enough.

  Almost as soon as he was dressed, Inge came in. She led them down the torchlit corridor and into the castle’s great hall. It was of a type so ancient that Teron had read about it but had never actually seen one. Rushes covered the stone floor and the heat from the firepit seemed to escape through the ceiling vent leaving its smoke behind to blend with that coming, from the torches set in the walls for light. Seated at the far end on a dais similar to Pandro’s, were Davok, two aging warriors and Korox, the wizard. Two empty places, one on each side of Davok, were intended for Teron and Eldra, and Inge led them directly to the chairs.

  Davok remained genial. “My generals, Zokar and Ban- seg. You know my wizard.”

  Korox glowered at Teron and nodded to Eldra. Davok rose and held up one hand, quieting the voices of the warriors and women crowded at the tables below. “I give you the spellmaker of Korv and the Seventh of Erul. Together they will lead us from this cold land to the warmth of the Vale of Erul. And then on to take all the lands along the Warm Sea. Soon, men of Fenn, all Zarza will be ours!”

  Cheers rolled up from below. Goblets were lifted and toasts drunk. Eldra and Teron sat without touching their

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  wine. Davok scowled. "You may as well drink to the inevitable, spellmaker.”

  “What makes you think we can do what you want?”

  “I know you can. And I have ways of making you do it gladly .”

  ^If I try and fail?”

  “If you fail,” Korox said, leaning toward them, “we can make two assumptions: one, that you only pretend to be the spellmaker; two, that you are the spellmaker but refuse to cooperate. In the first case—which I believe—you will not be needed and therefore can be disposed of. In the second, as Davok has said, there are ways ...”

  “What of the Seventh?” Teron interrupted. “You all must know her powers are much diminished.”

  “So we have heard,” Davok said. “But we have also heard that when you join, her powers will be greater than Rocan’s, great as the first Eldra’s. Should you refuse to join, why both of you will be disposed of. We have no room here for extra mouths to feed.”

  Teron saw that Eldra sat quietly, her eyes closed. He cast his mind out, hoping to find what absorbed her. But he caught only the emotions of the crowd below. Collectively they distrusted him. Collectively, and silently, they threatened him. Then a cold slash of thought struck him; the hatred of Korox, was greater than the hatred of Roosk.

  But when the wizard spoke, his voice was empty of emotion. He merely said, “Let us eat and then have 'the spellmaker demonstrate his skill if he has any aside from his childish charlatan’s bag of tricks.

  Teron said, “I can do little without my spellstaff.”

  “It will be brought,” Davok said. He signaled a servant. “Now let us eat.”

  They ate badly cooked fish and some ground root Teron had never before encountered and did not wish to meet again. But there was wine enough to make the meal edible, and he managed to finish his food.

  He reached out, trying to touch the mind of the

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  general at his left and Davolc at his right. Tonight he could feel only the emotions from the people below and the violence of Korox’s hatred. His mentaler power was not enough to screen out undesired interference.

  Eldra was different. She had the skill and the receptivity, and as the meal ended, he felt her touch his mind gently. He opened for her. “I am afraid, Teron. We are helpless.”

  “I have a plan,” he replied. “Trust me.”

  “What else can I do?”

  Davok stood up. “A servant is bringing your staff, spellmaker. So you can demonstrate your powers.”

  “And if you judge I have none?”

  “You were brought to Erul because Rocan, the Old One, sent for you. Rocan was the greatest Seventh since Vacor himself. I cannot believe he would choose falsely.” “Such powers as I have alone are limited,” Teron said carefully. “It is only by joining with the Seventh and through one other factor that my powers or hers can do what you wish done.”

  “And that
other factor?”

  “It is for your ears alone,” Teron murmured.- He spoke softly, but Korox heard the remark and turned cold, hating eyes on Teron. “That is an insult, spellmaker.”

  “I live by rules,” Teron said. “I cannot destroy another unless I am on the point of death. So set aside the fear you’re seeking to hide with your threats. The second rule allows me to reveal myself only to the leader of a land. In Erul it was Pandro; here it must be Davok.” A rather good improvisation, he thought.

  Eldra’s thoughts touched him, more warmly this time. He grinned at her and then turned as a servant came holding his spellstaff. He gingerly reached for it only to have Davok brush his hand aside.

  “Not so fast Let me examine it first.”

  “I told you I cannot use it for harm,” Teron said. "But neither can I control it when it is out of my hands. To play with it as you are doing is dangerous, Davok.”

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  He watched DavoFs hands move awkwardly along the staff. Already, by accident, he had opened the tiny aperture in the tip, and now his fingers were near the control studs. Teron said, "You could be struck down by it in an instant, Davok!”

  Davok’s hand caressed the studs without understanding, feeling them only as slight bumps and indentations in the wood. Teron was sure he did not realize what he was doing. Davok swung the staff toward a hulking blond servant whose work consisted of tending two of tiie great fires.

  “Slave, what see you from there?”

  Teron tensed himself to leap up as he saw DavoFs hand squeeze down on the butt end. Enough pressure and...

  Before the slave understood he was being spoken to, a faint line of pale light leaped from the tip of the staff, almost invisible in the smoky air. A small hole appeared in the skin of the man's chest. He toppled to the floor.

  Teron jerked the staff from DavoFs hand. “You are fortunate it did not do the same to you!”

  “How did you do that?” Davok roared. “I alone had a grasp on the accursed thing!”

  Shocked grief for the senseless death of a good man filled Eldra’s mind, but she succeeded in directing a warning at Teron nevertheless. “Have a care,” she thought into his mind. “Korox is no fooL I feel his mind seeking answers.”