‘I did it! Oh Loddlaen, I truly did it!’
‘I know.’ He was smiling at her. ‘I was there and saw you. What a splendid job, Morri. It should come easier from now on. Try again.’
Just as he said, when she returned to the trance state, she found her body of light waiting for her. She thought herself into the image and again heard the click, again found herself seeing with other eyes. When she glanced around, she saw Loddlaen, hovering over his physical body. All around them the world had turned strange in a shimmering silvery blue glow. The grass shone with a reddish glow, the distant trees shimmered orange. The dead things—the tent, the boulders, and the like—were pitch black.
‘You’re here.’ Loddlaen’s voice seemed to sound inside her mind. ‘This is my true home, Morri. This is the only world where I feel I belong.’
‘It’s so lovely!’ She thought the words back to him.
‘Then let’s have a look at it.’
He began to rise slowly into the air. A mere thought let her follow him as if she had wings. Behind her the silver cord joining her to her body paid slowly out of its own accord. She kept her sight fixed on his shimmering gold body of light as they rose higher and higher.
‘Look at the stars,’ he said.
She transferred her gaze up and saw above her enormous swirls of silver in the glowing blue night. Since she’d put her attention into following what she saw, the sight of them drew her upward. She felt herself streaking upward fast, faster, beyond her power to stop, as if she were falling upward as fast as a stone falls down when thrown from a high cliff.
‘Morri!’
The sound of his thought caught her like the jerk of a leash on a running hound. With a wrench of will she forced herself to look down, but she’d lost track of his position in the billows of silver light. She looked this way and that, and with every transfer of attention she moved, swooping up, down, swinging from side to side, utterly out of control. She could hear him calling to her, but he must have been flying after her, because no matter which way she looked, she never saw him.
‘Down!’ he screamed. ‘Come back down!’
Flailing with etheric arms Morwen managed to invert her body of light. She began falling, plunging, again fast, faster, far too fast. She saw her body looming in front of her, a vast mountain of flesh, draped with avalanches of clothing. She tried to turn and fly upward, but she felt the silver cord hauling her closer and closer, as if her body were a fisherman hauling a reluctant coracle onto shore.
‘Loddlaen!’ She tried to cry out with her thoughts, but the momentary distraction snatched away her only chance at safety. The silver cord snapped taut, then yanked her down, slamming her etheric double into her body. Pain like burning swept over her. She rebounded, momentarily free, with the silver cord trailing broken behind her. The pain turned to a gold mist, suffocating her, then into golden light. She was floating in light, drifting this way and that, head down and motionless as if the light were water. She saw someone floating towards her in the light, a vaguely human shape of silver, and he was followed by giant beings who had no bodies but golden flames.
Only then did she realize that she was dead.
Even though he was sitting on the far side of the camp, Nevyn heard Loddlaen’s panicked scream. He jumped to his feet just as Devaberiel raced over, panting, his face dead-white even in the reddish glow from the little fire.
‘It’s Morri,’ he gasped. ‘Loddlaen’s killed her.’
Nevyn swore and took off running through the camp. A small crowd had gathered on the edge of the meadow. As he pushed his way through he saw Aderyn and Loddlaen. Aderyn had grabbed Loddlaen by the shoulders and shoved his face up close to the terrified lad’s to berate him, speaking Elvish so fast that Nevyn couldn’t understand two words together. Morwen lay on the ground, her arms and legs akimbo, her head twisted to one side so violently that he knew her neck was broken. Jennantar crouched at her head, and Farendar knelt at her feet, on guard over her body. Nevyn snapped his fingers and summoned a ball of silver light. In the garish glare he could see that her face, her neck, her arms and hands were a mass of red and purple bruises.
‘I didn’t mean—’ Loddlaen spoke in Deverrian, but he was sobbing too hard to finish. He twisted free of his father’s hands and tried to bolt, but Devaberiel grabbed him and hauled him back. Nevyn strode over and looked him in the face.
‘What happened?’ Nevyn could hear his voice twist into a snarl. ‘What were you doing to her?’
Loddlaen began to tremble. ‘I—I was showing her—I mean, I was trying to teach her, just a little, about—well, dweomer.’
‘You wretched young dolt!’
Nevyn dropped to his knees beside her body and laid a hand on her face. Instantly he knew that her etheric double had already separated from the dead flesh. He crouched low over her to hide his face and slipped into trance. When he raised his Sight to the etheric, he saw only the billows of the blue light—not so much as a trace of her. He returned to normal consciousness and sat back on his heels. Loddlaen was staring at him, his eyes tear-filled in a dead-pale face.
‘Let me guess,’ Nevyn said. ‘You decided to show her how to travel on the etheric. You forgot that she had no idea of how to stay there or get back safely.’
Loddlaen threw back his head and howled in grief and terror both.
‘I thought so.’ Nevyn got up. ‘There’s naught I can do for her. She’s dead.’
‘Morri!’ Loddlaen screamed the name, then whispered. ‘Morri, Morri, Morri.’
Loddlaen wrenched himself out of Devaberiel’s grip. He raced off into the darkness beyond the dweomer light’s circle of glow. Dev took two steps after him, then sighed and let him go.
‘I doubt me if he meant to harm her,’ Dev said.
‘I doubt it, too,’ Nevyn said. ‘If I hadn’t, he’d have gone to join her.’ Slowly he rose and turned to face Aderyn, who stood nearby, silently weeping.
‘I warned you,’ Nevyn said—then hated himself for saying it. I might as well have fetched him a blow across the face, he thought. ‘My apologies, oh ye gods, I don’t know what made me say that. I should never have—a thousand apologies!’
‘I deserve it,’ Aderyn whispered. ‘I know.’ His voice choked on the tears.
‘By the Dark Sun!’ Devaberiel said abruptly. ‘ebañy! He’ll be waking up!’
The bard took off running, heading back into the camp.
With a wave of one hand Jennantar caught the attention of the Westfolk who had clustered around the two dweomermasters.
‘Someone go fetch a blanket,’ he said. ‘We should wrap the poor lass up properly, anyway, and we don’t want any of the children in camp seeing her like this.’
‘Let’s take her into a tent,’ Farendar said. ‘I’ll help carry.’
‘Good idea,’ Jennantar said. ‘The Wise Ones will handle—well, handle the rest of this.’
Between them they picked up Morwen’s body in as dignified a manner as they could, then hurried off. Aderyn sank to his knees, slumped forward, and stared blindly at the grass. Nevyn sat down next to his friend and waited while Aderyn struggled to compose himself. Nevyn was surprised at his own feelings, or rather, at their odd absence. He felt so detached that he realized he’d been expecting a tragedy such as this, yet another evil thing that would tear his Brangwen from him once again.
‘I can’t.’ Aderyn raised his head and looked at some distant point. ‘Talk just yet, I mean. Could we –’
‘Discuss this later? Of course. I just want to ask you again to forgive me for that remark, and now I’ll go back to camp.’
Among the tents subdued children sat on the grass and watched him go by without speaking. Farendar was standing at the door of his tent, waiting for him. When he beckoned, Nevyn joined him. He could just see a white-wrapped bundle lying on the floor cloth inside.
‘Shall we bury her in the earth?’ Farendar said. ‘Or give her to the fire?’
‘The earth, I thi
nk,’ Nevyn said. ‘As her people do. A deep grave, a stone over it. Bury some prized thing with her, perhaps, if she brought any with her.’
‘Very well. We’d follow our own rites for her if you thought best, but the way of her folk, well, that sounds proper.’
‘When –’
‘As soon as possible. We want to take her a good distance from camp, you see, so little Ebañy won’t have to watch.’
‘Ah, the poor little lad!’
Farendar wasted no time organizing the funeral. He found Albaral, and the two of them dug a grave near the merchant’s camp but not in it—a place between her new people and her old, as Far put it. Since she was as light as a child, Jennantar carried her body over and laid it gently down into the raw earth. Next to her they put the sack of goods she’d brought with her, her few pieces of clothing and the kitchen knife.
‘Will you say a few words, Wise One?’ Jennantar said.
‘I’ll try.’ Nevyn could hear how damp and choked his voice sounded. ‘Go to the Light, little one. We’ll all miss you.’ His voice broke, and he turned away.
‘That’s enough,’ Jen said softly. ‘My thanks.’
Nevyn found it too painful to stay and watch them fill in the grave. He went back to camp and sought out Devaberiel, who was sitting in front of his tent, his harp slack-stringed beside him. When Nevyn knelt down near him, the bard acknowledged him by raising one weary hand.
‘How does Evan fare?’ Nevyn said. ‘ebañy, I mean.’
‘I finally got him to sleep.’ Devaberiel turned to look at him. ‘I’ve not told him she’s dead. He wouldn’t understand.’
‘That’s true enough.’
‘I told him that she had to go away and that she’ll be back in a while. I’m hoping he’ll just forget her.’
‘In time no doubt he will, but do you think it’s wise to lie to him? He’ll have to know sooner or later.’
‘Later is soon enough. Ye gods, it’s a hard thing to admit to your son that you failed him so badly.’
‘You failed him? How—’
‘Don’t you understand?’ Dev’s voice shook in a ghastly blend of grief and guilt. ‘She was my guest. I should have seen—should have known—should have made that cursed little wretch leave her alone. Loddlaen! He’s always been the wormy sheep in the flock. He should have been turned out long ago, truly, but that decision wasn’t mine to make. It was my duty—my sacred duty—to protect my guest and my son’s nursemaid. And I failed.’
‘Here, then I failed as badly as you.’
‘Nonsense! You’ve been trying for years to make Aderyn see the truth about his son. Has he listened? Not to one word, I’ll wager.’
‘He’s listening now.’ The voice sounded so exhausted, so old, that at first Nevyn couldn’t place it. Then Aderyn stepped into the pool of firelight. ‘What can I say? You were right. I was wrong. I never should have taught the lad the first thing about dweomer.’
Devaberiel rose to his feet. ‘Here, come sit down, Wise One. Forgive my harsh way of speaking, will you? I’m half-torn apart by this, but I’m a father, too, and I know how hard it must be when your son does—’ he paused briefly, ‘—somewhat like this.’
Aderyn hesitated, then took Devaberiel’s outstretched hand and clasped it. ‘He was all I had left of Dalla,’ Aderyn said. ‘I couldn’t say him nay about one little thing.’ With a sigh he let go of the bard’s hand and sat down next to Nevyn. ‘I’d like to blame her, of course, but I can’t. She left him with a wetnurse who loved him and a father who loved him more. He shouldn’t have come to harm. I’m the one who spoiled him.’ Aderyn covered his face with both hands, but he neither sobbed nor spoke more.
Devaberiel sat down opposite them. For a long moment the silence grew, as discomforting as the summer’s humid air, thick around them all.
‘Where is Loddlaen now?’ Nevyn said at last.
‘Gone.’ Aderyn was staring into the darkness. ‘He took his gear and some of our horses and fled. I’ve no idea where he’s going. Some other alar will take him in. We’ll meet again in good time, no doubt.’
No doubt, Nevyn thought. And will you forgive him, then? Abruptly Aderyn got up. He paused for a moment, looking at Nevyn, then with a shrug turned and walked away, heading in the direction of his tent. Nevyn rose too and took his leave of the bard, but he went to his own tent. Out in front of its door Gwairyc was sitting by a tiny fire, feeding it twigs to keep the light burning.
‘I see you waited up for me,’ Nevyn said.
‘I did,’ Gwairyc said. ‘I thought I’d ask if you wanted me to track down Loddlaen and slit his throat for him.’
‘I don’t. If it would bring Morri back, I’d take your offer gladly, but it won’t, and I’d not add to Aderyn’s grief. We’ll be leaving on the morrow, by the by. Staying would only pour vinegar in Aderyn’s wounds.’
‘Fair enough. Well, the poor lass! But in a way, she’s better off. No one can ever mock her again, but you know, my lord, I’m sorry now that I didn’t keep a better guard over Morwen. I didn’t realize she needed guarding.’
‘Neither did I. I feel like a fool! I never realized that Loddlaen was teaching her dweomer lore.’
‘No doubt he made sure you didn’t know. But I’ve been thinking. She was an ugly little mutt, but I liked Morri. I didn’t much realize that I did, mind, and just as a friend, of course, but I wish I’d seen that she was in danger. It gripes my soul, somehow, that she was finally happy, and then it all got snatched away from her. Ah well. Too late now.’
‘So it is.’
But not too late for you, my friend! Nevyn realized that Gwairyc had just given him the signal he’d been waiting for. For the first time in their journeying together—most likely for the first time in his life—he was voicing a genuine concern for and a regret over the welfare of another human being. Gwairyc no longer stood on the edge of that crumbling cliff of isolation that might have plunged him into a sea of evil far below. Somehow or other, Nevyn had managed to drag him back to solid ground. Soon it would be time to free him from his king’s rash vow.
Nevyn waited until they’d ridden back to Eldidd to have his final talk with Gwairyc. They travelled south till they reached the sea, just west of Wmmglaedd, then followed the Eldidd coast. By the time they’d worked their way to Abernaudd, near the Deverry border, the days had grown short, and frost nipped the nights.
They took shelter in an inn that catered to sailors and merchants. Although the port was half-deserted at this time of year, they did find a crew that would be returning to Cerrmor from their last trading run of the season. Nevyn took it as an omen. That evening, while they ate hunks of mutton and turnips fried in the mutton grease, they sat at a table close to the fire for its warmth. Gwairyc apparently had been thinking about the weather.
‘Where will we be wintering, my lord?’ Gwairyc said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘I’m going back to Cannobaen,’ Nevyn said, ‘but you’re not. Return to your king, lad. I’ll give you a letter that tells him I’ve released you. I’ll give you half of our coin, as well. That should be enough to pay your passage to Cerrmor on that merchantman in the harbour and then get you back up the Belaver to Dun Deverry.’
Gwairyc dropped his table dagger in surprise. He broke into a broad grin and began to stammer his thanks.
‘No thanks needed,’ Nevyn said. ‘It’s time, is all. Just try to remember what you’ve learned from me, and I don’t mean only the herbcraft.’
‘I will do that, my lord,’ Gwairyc said. ‘Ye gods, it’ll be good to see my men again! Huh, I wonder how many of the Falcons lived through the summer? Well, I’ll pray it’s all of them, and I’ll be finding out soon enough. Although, truly, it would be good to see you now and again. Do you think you’ll ever come back to Dun Deverry?’
‘I doubt it,’ Nevyn said. ‘I think I’ll stay in Eldidd for the last few years left to me. I’ve got friends here as well as among the Westfolk, you see.’
‘Oh, here, my lord! You’re in such good health that I wager you’ll live to be a hundred.’
‘Well, you know, you might be right at that.’ Nevyn managed to keep from laughing. ‘And I’ll hope the same for you.’
And yet, as common sense would predict, Gwairyc’s life ended far short of that hundred years. The Cerrgonney wars dragged on and on, and many a good man died in battle, as Gwairyc did some five years after his trip to the Westlands, when a squad of Boarsmen cut him off from the main body of the king’s riders. Before the end came, practically everyone at court had remarked that he was a changed man, more courteous and far more pleasant company. Still, the only person at court who honestly mourned him was King Casyl himself.
Thanks to the link he’d forged between them, Nevyn knew what had happened the moment that Gwairyc died. He felt a stab of grief, and one that lingered. May he have better in his next life! Nevyn would think whenever Gwairyc came to mind. He wondered, as well, if he and Gwairyc would meet again. Only the Lords of Wyrd would know the answer to that question—not that they would ever have told any mortal foolish enough to ask. Nevyn would remind himself that after all, with a man like Gwairyc, news of his death in battle had hardly come as a surprise.
The next sad death that he heard of, however, shocked him to his very soul.
It was a good many years before anyone in the Westlands saw Loddlaen again. One spring day, he turned up on the seacoast riding a decent horse and leading a mule loaded with fancy trinkets and oddments from Bardek, which he proceeded to give away to whomever fancied them. He’d gone there to study physick, he told everyone, and done a little trading to support himself while there. Valandario heard the news some days later.
‘He must have done well,’ Javanateriel said. ‘I hear that he brought back real glass beads and some silver ones as well.’
‘That’s nice,’ Valandario said. ‘Um, wait—who?’
‘Loddlaen. Didn’t you hear what I said?’
The Spirit Stone Page 24