* * *
For many days Iliff followed the mound through the swamp. Their course wound past island clusters and drifting grasses and into deep mahogany waters. Black trees rose from dense stands, while odd wooden knobs, just as black, peered up from the shallows around the trees’ swollen trunks. Iliff had no sense of where he was. Even had he wished it, he could not have found his way back to his own island. But for the mound, he was lost.
The mound remained strange to Iliff. Whenever he got close, it would surge ahead before easing back into an idle drift. On a few occasions it submerged completely, making for long, anxious moments, until it rose once more, though farther off. At night it sat low and still in the dark.
Near the end of the ninth day, Iliff grew worried. Where was it leading him?
He removed the pole from the water and rubbed his swollen hands. He had slept little in the last days. He squinted around him. They had just come upon another rise of land, but this one appeared different. Though pocked with puddles, its expanse remained above the brown waters and extended back as far as Iliff could see. He turned. The land across the way, though distant, appeared much the same.
Iliff felt the raft moving. He crouched until he was almost eye level with the water. Was that a ripple? Using Troll’s knife, he removed a length of his hair and tossed it overboard. The strands of hair spun, then glided along the shoreline. Yes, yes, there was a current here!
Iliff seized the pole and thrust its end into the flowing deep.
Inch by inch, the lands moved closer to one another and channeled the waters. The dark, strangled growth of the swamp gave way to wet heather and a bolder variety of tree whose foliage, though dim, hinted at shades of color. And there were birds. He could not see them, but he could hear their thin calls away overhead. Atop his tottering raft, Iliff shuffled his feet.
He thought then of his appeal to Adramina. I will assist you as I can, she had said in that long ago. He looked at the mysterious mass. Was this her assistance? he wondered. Was this the form it took?
* * *
By dusk the water was a river, broad and true. The lands rose, crowding the waters and hastening their course. The mound churned ahead. But though Iliff dug in with his pole, he could not keep up.
The mound pulled away, swelling up higher and broader. Then Iliff stopped poling, for the mound became more than a mound. A flat tail had surfaced at its rear, and Iliff watched it now pushing aside the water in powerful, sweeping strokes. Before the mound rose a neck, long and lithe, unfurling like the resurrection ferns Iliff had seen in the forest, one seamless segment at a time. A smooth, flat head emerged last. The creature reached to the height of the trees and looked easily from side to side before lowering its head and leaping forward.
Iliff watched the creature approach a place in the river where the stones and trees cinched in, watched it expand to its greatest dimensions yet—nearly touching either bank—before descending suddenly and disappearing from sight. Iliff thought he heard a great splash beyond.
When Iliff reached the spot, he was almost too late in realizing that the waterway ended. He grabbed his spear and pack and leapt from the raft moments before it toppled over a fall. Upon landing on the shore, Iliff scrambled up a steep bank. He stood and looked to where the waters gushed down into an enormous lake that pushed out two sets of receding hills. There was no far shore, or perhaps it was too distant to be seen in the dimming light. The creature was nowhere in sight. Not even a wrinkle broke the water’s clean expanse.
Iliff descended and followed the lakeshore. The ground was firm underfoot. He found an opening among the trees where he set down his pack and spear and removed his crown. Though the air felt cooler here, it was not cold.
He bathed on the verge of the lake, washing all of the mud from himself and his clothes. With a flat stone, he scoured his skin ruddy. Wet tunics, socks, and breeches drip-dripped from the low branches of a tree beside which Iliff cut his hair. He dressed in dry clothes and went to sit on the lake’s edge. A night breeze skimmed off the waters.
Smiling, Iliff stretched his arms and lay back on his cloak, allowing the clean air to wash over him. He was unsure of where he was or how he had gotten here or what the coming days would bring. He knew only that he was out of the swamp. That he had been delivered.
Chapter 4
“Are you a king?” The voice was small and clear.
Iliff opened his eyes. Morning had come quietly to the lake. A light mist lifted off the waters, paling the far shore. The near shore was empty, but the voice had sounded from behind him.
“I say,” it repeated, nearer this time, “are you a king?”
A small hand came to his shoulder and pressed it. Iliff turned and was surprised to find a young girl. She stood straight, hands clasped behind her back. She was looking over his cloak, down to where he had tucked it beneath his feet. Her hair was golden and plaited. When she turned to face him, her eyes shone clear blue.
“My father’s a king,” she said before Iliff had a chance to consider her question. “But he doesn’t wear a crown. Not anymore.”
The girl took her hands from behind her and Iliff saw that she was holding his gold crown. He had left it atop his bag the night before. She looked on it a moment before setting it down and running over to where his fishing spear leaned against a tree.
“What’s this for?” She picked up the spear and looked at one end of it, then the other. She tapped the pointed tip with her small finger.
“Careful, now,” he said. “I use it to catch fish.”
The skin between her eyes pinched in.
“Here.” Iliff smiled and rose to his feet. “Let me show you.”
She handed him the spear and stepped back.
“Pretend there’s a fish swimming there,” he said, indicating the ground between them. “It’s swimming closer… swimming closer… there!” He thrust the spear into the ground. “Got it!”
He lifted the spear and showed the girl his pretend catch. She continued to look on, puzzled.
“Why don’t you use a net?” she asked. “You’d get lots more fish.”
Iliff laughed. “I suppose I would.”
He set the spear back against the tree. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the girl turned toward him wherever he went.
“Where do you come from?” she asked.
“Oh, from far away.” He waved his hand toward the swamp. “A place you’ve probably never heard of.”
“How did you get here?”
Iliff looked on her rose-colored cheeks and round eyes. He decided to tell her the truth. It was a marvelous tale, after all.
“I followed an island,” he said, kneeling before her. “Only it wasn’t an island. It was a creature with a great big hump, like this, and a tail that went like this, and a long neck that came up like this.” He showed her with his hands. “It was a magnificent creature and it’s what led me to this place.”
“A water kelpie!” she cried. “My father’s told me about them, but I’ve never seen one.”
The space around them began to glow. Iliff stared at the sudden colors of the clearing, the greens and yellows and vibrating bits of blue. The lake sparkled where small waves crested and lapped onto shore. Smiling, Iliff wondered what kind of place this was where the colors sprang to life so. But when he turned back, he saw that it was coming from the girl. Light seemed to swell from inside her, radiating through her fair skin, as though from a lantern being turned up. Her blue eyes shimmered. She grasped his hand in both of hers.
“Please tell me more,” she said. “When did you see it? Where did it go to?”
Suddenly, Iliff felt like a child himself. He suppressed the urge to break into buoyant laughter. “Why, just yesterday. I followed it down the river, all the way to over there,” he said, pointing to where the brown waters spilled down. “That’s where it disappeared, though I imagine it’s still in the lake somewhere.” He looked at her sidelong. “Could be watching us no
w.”
The girl gasped and looked out over the waters. The entire lake appeared richer to Iliff now, more enchanting.
“This water kelpie,” he said after several moments. “What do you know about them?”
“They’re magical creatures,” she said breathlessly, still searching the waters. “Poppy says they’ve been here since before our time. They live under the water, but they come up sometimes to help people. But the person has to be good for a kelpie to help them. If they’re bad or wish bad things on others, the kelpie drowns them.”
Iliff pondered this. Had the creature meant to lead him to the lake? Perhaps it had meant to cast him over the falls instead. Suddenly the girl was beneath his arm, struggling to lift him. “Come now, come!”
“Huh? Where to?”
“I want you to meet Poppy. I want you to tell him all about the kelpie.”
Iliff’s smile straightened as he stood. He had to remind himself that the company of others could no longer jeopardize his quest; after all, there no longer was a quest to be jeopardized.
The girl tugged on him with more insistence.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Iliff said with a chuckle. “Just give me a moment to gather my things.”
* * *
Iliff followed the girl along the lakeshore and then onto a gently trodden path that wound into the trees. The girl skipped at times and hummed at others. She stopped once to imitate the chirping call of a red-breasted bird. Though the light of her quieted as they went, it continued to show around her as a soft aura. She was clearly good, Iliff told himself. Her father was likely to be good too. But he became anxious as they walked. He had been apart from people for so long, he was not sure he would know how to act before them.
“Come no further!”
Iliff was startled from his thoughts by the movement of two men in the trail ahead. They wore leather armor, clean and well-made, and short swords in their belts. As they approached, their blue eyes darted over him and settled on the fishing spear in his hand. The air around their blonde bodies wavered, then showed red. Iliff instinctively reached for the girl.
“Unhand her!” the first one shouted, drawing his sword.
“Here, come behind us.” The second one extended his hand to the girl.
The small girl crossed her arms.
“How do you know this man?” the first one asked. “What’s his business?”
Instead of answering him, the girl began pulling Iliff around them.
“Stop this, Skye,” the guard said, stepping into their path. His tone seemed to plead rather than command now. “You cannot just go and return with…” His eyes flicked toward Iliff. “…with whomever you please.”
“You should not be going out in the first place,” said the second guard.
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Something in the girl’s voice told Iliff it was not the first time she had slipped past the sentry.
Before the men could answer, more guards rushed in. They fanned to either side of the path. They were a shorter breed of people, for Iliff, who had never considered himself tall, peered easily over their heads. He did not feel threatened by the men. Though they brandished swords, their formation was clearly intended to prevent his passage rather than to detain him or cut him down.
“My name is Iliff,” he explained. “I am here only at the invitation of…” He turned to indicate the girl, but she was no longer beside him. He looked around. She was nowhere at all. He turned back to the guards, who watched him with apprehension, as well as a kind of interest, it seemed.
Iliff began to back away. “I’m sorry to have alarmed you,” he said. “I’ll leave now.”
Though the men remained in their defensive stance, the red was already fading from their collective air. Several lowered their swords. But Iliff had gone only a short distance when a disturbance arose in the guards’ midst. Someone was pushing his way through them.
“Stop him!” a harsh voice called. “Don’t let him get away.”
A wiry man broke from the others and rushed at Iliff in a slight stoop. Dark hair dangled over his burnt, scowling visage. He did not appear to be a guard, for he was neither armed nor armored, but his bearing made him appear more violent than the men at his back. The wiry man stopped within a foot of Iliff and thrust his sharp nose forward. Iliff stiffened before his scouring blue-gray eyes. He wondered whether this was the girl’s father.
“Who are you?” The man snatched away Iliff’s spear. “What do you want here?”
“I—I’m no one. I’m Iliff.”
“And tell me, Iliff,” the man said, peering into his eyes. “Where do you come from? What dark places have you been?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
A sharp chill pierced the space between Iliff’s eyes and, in a sickening rush, he realized that the man was entering his mind. He could feel him wriggling inside his thoughts and memories, grabbing through them. Images of his past were exposed, rudely, abrasively. The man worked backward. Iliff could see the island and brown waters of the swamp, could feel the weight of damp air and dried mud. Next would come the fire and then—
No! Mustn’t let him see his old companion, mustn’t let him see the monstrosity he released into the world! Iliff struggled to seal the memories, but he could feel the man straining just as hard to hold them in full view. The lean face in front of him grinned even as it tensed and trembled.
“What are we afraid of?” he asked.
Iliff winced as what felt like icy fingers forced his memories wider. And in the next instant flames sprang up around him. He was back in the forest, running from the fire, running for his life. His legs began to tremble. Sweat beaded over his body and bled through his tunic. Now he watched the shelter being torn apart. Iliff could not shut his mind’s eye, could not stop the violent torrent of memories. In a moment he would be back beside Troll. The whole dismal chapter would be laid bare.
But before the man could wrest forth the image, a gravely voice fell over them.
“Stop this, Lucious,” it said. “Let him go.”
The man scowled. He held firm for a moment, then released Iliff, the cold fingers snapping from his mind. Iliff clutched his brow and collapsed to his knees, his thoughts tousled and torn.
“Are you all right?”
Iliff squinted up at the grave-looking man. He sat astride the back of a muscular beast that looked similar to Stag, but with a neat straw mane instead of antlers. The man was silver-haired and larger than the other men. Skye sat in front of him, her clear gaze shining through the cold residue of Lucious’ intrusion. Iliff blinked from Skye to the man behind her. It was immediately evident that this was her father, the King.
“Let him pass,” the King said to the guards. “I wish to speak with him.”
“What? Let him in?” Lucious’ face turned dark and incredulous. “But we know nothing of him? What if he is in their service?”
“He is not. That much is clear.” The King turned back to Iliff. “You appear hungry. If you’ve not eaten, I shall be very glad to have you at my table.”
The guards murmured. Skye shone from her perch and kicked her small legs.
“Rubbish!” Lucious spat. He snapped Iliff’s fishing spear over his knee and flung off the pieces. He pushed his way back through the guards. “There is darkness in him,” he called back. “There is destruction. Let him in and he’ll ruin us. You’ll see! It will be just as before!”
Iliff waited for Lucious to move beyond the guards before rising to his feet and steadying himself. But though the man’s accusations faded with his distance, they continued to ring as sharply for Iliff as though he were still inside his head.
Chapter 5
The path that the King led them on pushed deeper into the woods. Along the way, guards dropped off in pairs to return to their posts until only six guards remained. Iliff could hear them whispering at his back as they walked but could not make out what they were saying.
Before long, white tents
appeared through the thinning trees. The path entered a clearing where hundreds of the tents stood in neat configurations. Smallish men and women moved among them, splitting wood, washing and hanging clothes, tossing seeds to clucking birds, tending to stoves. Children ran here and there, their laughter and colors garlanding the clearing that was still opening into Iliff’s view. It was the most people he had seen since his time in the prison, and it took him a moment to absorb the scene. He smiled tightly and nodded around him, at the adults who raised their heads, at the children who stopped and stared and came as close to him as they dared, their colors falling mute.
Upon reaching the first tents, Iliff became distracted by the smells of cooking. His gaze shifted from the people to their stoves, small domes of baked bricks with fitted plates of metal on top. Bread browned there, while pots steamed from their large mouths. Women turned the bread and clapped out more discs of dough. Others stirred the pots with long wooden spoons. The smells emitted were thick and rich.
Iliff followed the King toward the center of the clearing. As the tents became larger, Iliff saw that several were workshops of one kind or another. He caught glimpses of looms and spinning threads, wood shavings, stretched leather. A few tents away, furnaces burned where men hammered glowing pieces of metal. Amid the fiery scene, Iliff was struck by the cold figure of Lucious. He stood from his work in a black apron and gloves, eyeing Iliff darkly.
The King dismounted before the largest tent and lifted Skye down. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than a stout woman bustled in and seized her by the wrist. “Bless us all!” the woman cried. “How many times have I told you never to go from the camp alone? Why can you not get that into that smart little head? Now, come, come, off to your lessons.”
Though Skye’s colors dimmed beneath the woman’s chastising, she managed to beam one final smile at Iliff before being pulled away. The King handed the reins to a guard. The remaining guards took positions around the tent, and one held open a flap for Iliff and the King to enter.
Lights and Shadows (The Prisoner and the Sun #2) Page 2