by Sean Russell
The clash of the two companies meeting was loud in the narrowlane. Samul went straight at the nearest torchbearer but two of his companyintervened, then they fell back, parrying and dodging, hoping to slow Samuluntil the others were on him from behind. Prince Michael and Carl were havingno better luck, the men before them doing the same. Samul could hear thepounding of boots behind.
“I’d drop those blades, lads, if I were you,” the man withthe torch called out. “Unless you’d rather die he-” But he did not finish. Asword through his ribs sent him reeling forward, lumbering into one of hisfellows, whom Samul disarmed and ran through. A shadow wielding a sword threwtheir enemies into disarray, men plunging this way and that to escape theblade, Samul, Carl, and Michael slashing at the men as they tried to escape.Torches tumbled to the ground and in a second they were running for all theirworth down the dark lane, the sounds of pursuit close behind.
“Here!” Jamm called in the dark, and Samul followed Carl andMichael over a gate. There were horses there, with one man guarding them. Onelook at the numbers coming over the gate and he dropped his torch and fled intothe dark. Samul was on a horse, slashing at the reins of the remaining mounts,taking the nose off one horse in the dark. In a moment they were galloping overopen pasture, rain still pouring down, running into their eyes.
Someone-Jamm, Samul thought-had taken up the fallen torch,and Samul tried to keep that in view, almost colliding with Carl in theirheadlong dash. A low stone wall loomed up, and Samul almost lost his saddle ashis mount leapt it at the last second. Jamm slowed their pace then, the will toself-preservation overcoming his fear. He slowed almost to a stop, his horsedancing about so that torch waved wildly.
“Are they behind us? Are they behind us?” the little mancalled.
They all reined in their mounts, listening. The rain drummeddown, and far off they could hear shouting.
“I think they’ve lost sight of us,” the Prince said.
Jamm threw his torch into a narrow ditch, where it sputteredout, leaving them in utter darkness again.
“Let the horses go,” Jamm said, and Samul heard the thiefdismount.
“But they will overtake us!” Samul protested.
“Not this night,” came Jamm’s answer out of darkness.
Samul cursed as he heard the others following the little man’sorders. He dismounted reluctantly.
“Do as he says,” Carl whispered. “You’ll be caught in half aday without Jamm.”
Samul heard Jamm smack his mount and send it trotting off,and he did the same. He couldn’t see the others a few feet away.
“Follow me,” Jamm said, just loud enough to be heard overthe rain and the sound of retreating horses.
“But where are you in this pitch hole?” the prince asked.
“Follow my voice. That’s it,” whispered Jamm. “Are we allhere? I will lead. Put a hand on the shoulder of the man before you.”
They set off like a train of blind men, and in three stepshad blundered into the ditch. Samul started to climb out when he realized thatJamm had no intention of doing so. They sloshed their way along, water runningabout their knees. Progress was slow as they fought the current, but Samulrealized their would be no boot prints to follow. Three times they stoppedwhile Carl and Jamm made forays out into the dark, leaving false trails towhere, Samul couldn’t guess.
Above the splatter of rain, they could hear men onhorseback, and even see their torches. They pressed on desperately, fallingoften on the slippery ground or tripping over objects hidden by the dark.Patrols rode by while they were crossing open fields, and they were forced tolie down and press their faces into the wet grass and dirt.
They passed over the land like a silent pack, wary and wild.At the corner of three irregularly shaped fields Jamm stopped to survey thegray landscape. How he could see anything beyond a few feet, Samul did notknow. They were crouched in long orchard grass that dripped with rain. Cold,wet spiderwebs clung to the nobleman’s hands, and fireflies danced through theair. In the distance, cattle lowed, and nighthawks cried forlornly.
“Do you smell something?” Carl whispered to Jamm.
A tiny breeze did carry a foul odor.
“Dead animal,” Jamm said quietly.
When the thief was satisfied that they could press on hewent quickly over the wall and into a field of oats. Samul came behind,thinking this would be as wet as wading through a lake. Immediately he trippedover something soft. Pressing the oats aside with his arm, he cursed.
“What is it?” Carl asked.
“A dead man.”
A second man lay a few feet away. In the dark it was hard totell how they’d been killed, but it was hardly by accident. They wore mailshirts and surcoats.
“These men served the House of Innes,” Prince Michael said,crouching over the corpses in the dark. “Our crest is embroidered on theirshoulders-you can feel it.”
Jamm rummaged the stinking bodies but found neither pursesnor weapons, and then he led his companions off, clinging to the shadow at the field’sedge, a new urgency in their pace.
Twenty-six
It crouched high in the dead branches of a tree. In thediffuse gray light the creature cast no shadow, but Tam could see it wasthin-boned and angular-almost human. It appeared narrow-chested and thin-necked,bent like a stooped old man, but it leapt nimbly to another branch, swungone-handed, and landed in the crotch of a nearby tree, its long tail curlingaround a branch like a fifth limb.
Whatever beast it was, it stared down at Alaan through theleafless branches, its eyes large and dark, almost hidden in short, ash-grayfur.
“Have you kept your word?” it hissed. “Have you?”
“Can you keep yours? That is what I wonder,” Alaan answered.
“She will be angry,” the creature said very softly, asthough someone might hear. “If she finds out, she’ll cast another spell on me.”
“She’ll learn nothing from us.” Alaan dug into a pocket andproduced a leather pouch dangling from a cord. He reached up, the cord entwinedin his fingers, the dull little pouch twisting slowly.
For a moment, the creature stared solemnly at Alaan, thencame creeping down the branches, more sinuous and nimble than a squirrel. Itreached out a paw tentatively toward the pouch, almost afraid to touch it, Tamthought. Just as its fingers were about to snatch it, Alaan seized the creatureby its wrist and yanked it bodily from the tree. It tumbled down upon him,throwing its thin arms around his neck. It bared its fangs and would havebitten him had Alaan not been expecting such an attack.
“Don’t you dare bite me!” Alaan hissed, grabbing thecreature by the throat.
“Liar!” the beast hissed. “Liar.”
“I just want to be sure I get what you promised,” Alaansaid. “The potion is yours, but you must do what I’ve asked.” He put the pouchinto the creature’s hand and closed the bony fingers around it.
“How do I know that it will do what you promised?” the creatureaccused.
“It will, on my word.”
The creature stopped struggling and stared at Alaan’s handsomeface, so close to its own. “I will put you on the right path,” it conceded.
Alaan let the creature crouch on the saddle before him, forit would not sit like a man, despite its ability to speak like one.
It pointed, and Alaan gave his horse a heel. The others followedin single file, dumbfounded by this latest strange twist in their journey.
“What manner of creature is that thing?” Tam heard Fynnolwhisper to Crowheart.
“A man-or so it once was.”
“That is no man!” Fynnol argued, but the creature turned andglared at him, and Fynnol fell silent.
Whatever it was it had good ears,Tam decided.
They continued on through the dim wood, the barren and brokentrees like creatures burned to a hard shell, their arms flung out, thin fingersgrasping the air in agony. The ground itself was barren sand and rocks, thougha little darker soil could still be seen around the exposed roots of the tree
s.
Every so often the creature would point, and they wouldchange direction, though how it found its way in the featureless landscape Tamdid not know. He pulled his cloak close against the cool breeze and bent low tooffer less of a target. The mane of his horse whipped about with the occasionalgust, and sand stung his eyes.
The horses were restive and wild-eyed, and if not for theattentions of Crowheart might have bolted-all but Alaan’s Bris, who seemed tobe frightened by nothing.
After several hours of riding through the desolatelandscape, they came at last to a broken hill. Out of a mouth in the rockpoured a little rill of dusky water. The creature jumped down from Alaan’shorse and crouched low to slake its thirst from the murmuring stream-as thoughhe drank in the words of this forsaken land.
“Drink. It is good,” he said, standing and wiping his mouthwith the back of a meager wrist.
No one moved to dismount, but Alaan let his horse drink alittle. Tam thought they’d all go thirsty before they’d drink such water, buttheir waterskins weren’t empty yet.
The creature gazed down at the pouch in his hand, the cordtangled in his thin, almost human fingers. Then he stirred himself. “What is init?” he asked, holding up the pouch.
“The breastbone of a sorcerer thrush, ground to powder,among other things.”
The creature’s eyes went wide. “You killed a sorcererthrush?!”
“Even I’m not such a fool. A falcon killed it. I merelywaited for it to pick the bones clean. Wear it around your neck.”
The creature hesitated, gazing at the bag, the almost humanface unreadable. Eyes closed, it lifted the cord over its head, letting thepouch settle against the gray fur of its chest. Its posture changed, becomingmore erect, almost human, and the dark eyes flicked open to stare at its hands.“It does nothing!”
“Be patient,” Alaan said. “A spell such as yours cannot bebroken in a moment. It will take several days, perhaps a fortnight, but youwill be yourself again, Waath. You have my word.”
The creature closed its fingers around the pouch, as thoughtrying to feel the magic, then pointed down the path of the little trickle ofwater. “Follow this,” it hissed. “The stream will lead you where you want togo. But mind what you say! She will be very angry with me. Very angry.” Itglanced down at the pouch, then up at the men. “Luck to you Alaan,” it said. “Comevisit when I am myself again. You shall see-I was a man of some dignity, once…” He tried to smile-a terrible misshapen grimace.
“Perhaps I will, one day, Waath.” Alaan nodded to thecreature, and they set off, following the meandering track of the littlestream.
Tam looked back and saw the creature staring down into thesmall pool that formed below the spring. In one fist he held the pouch tightly,his manner so hopeful and pathetic that Tam had to look away.
They rode for some few hours-Tam didn’t know how many, forthe light never seemed to change in this place, no matter the time of day ornight. Eventually, they began to hear a sound like wind or water, and finallythey decided it was water, running water. A good stream of it, Tam guessed.
But before they reached it, they found a pool-too large tothrow a stone across but not by much-around it a screen of bleak trees, somefallen or shattered. Here and there Tam saw stunted plants, gray-green incolor: a desperate fern, a lily, some clumps of grass.
“Do you know where we are, Alaan?” Cynddl asked. He lookedaround, and shivered.
In answer, Alaan lifted an arm and pointed. Against the farshore something moved. A swan, Tam realized, a black swan. He could see thegraceful curve of its neck, the wings held high.
Alaan swung quietly down from his saddle and handed thereins to Crowheart. As the others dismounted he gestured for them to stay back,going forward only a few paces himself. There he crouched, looking out over theslick, dark water.
The swan disappeared behind the black bole of a tree, thenappeared again, barely there against the dark water and burned shore. Alaandid not move, but waited, still as a stalking cat. The swan finally made itsway around the pond, and when it drew near to the place where Alaan waited, thetraveler spoke.
“Hello, Grandmother,” he said softly.
The swan stopped, then darted behind a tall rock. Alaan didnot move to give chase but bided his time. After a long moment a shadowappeared on the water’s edge, half-hidden by a tree. A human shadow, Tam couldsee-a young woman by form and movement.
“You are a child of Wyrr?”
“Sainth, or so I once was,” Alaan said, “before I slept anage in the river.”
She gazed at him a moment. “What you have done is unwholesome.It is wrong to take another-”
“It was forced upon me-or him rather, for Sainth is but apart of me, now.”
The woman came forward a step, and Tam could see her moreclearly, thick, black hair to her waist, a face that would thaw the heart ofDeath himself.
“Why are you here?”
“Why are you here, I might ask,” Alaan said. “No onehas yet passed into Death’s kingdom and returned. You wait in vain.”
“What I do is my business. You have not traveled here to lectureme about matters of which I know more than you.”
She stepped behind a thin tree so that she was half-hidden.Tam saw Cynddl move forward a little, his face alert.
“I have come seeking my father,” Alaan said.
“Wyrr sleeps in the river, as you must know.” Shedisappeared behind a larger tree.
Alaan rose to his feet. “Caibre will create a soul eater atDeath’s bidding. He is seeking Wyrr, and I fear he knows where he rests.”
A swan appeared, paddling along the shore, its webbed feetstirring up the water in its wake. It passed behind a rock, and on the otherside emerged a shadow, slipping gracefully across the barren earth.
“You disturb me, son of Wyrr,” she whispered, her voiceclear and musical. “Do you know what lies beyond the river? A place withouthuman warmth. These twilight lands are verdant compared to Death’s kingdom,yet once he was just a man-if a sorcerer can ever be called just a man. Mea’chiwas his name then, and the friend of his heart was named Tusival. Both were inthrall to the arcane arts and learned much. They laid the foundation for thearts as they came to be known in later years. But Tusival was full of life,nearly bursting with it. You have never met a man so vibrant, so utterlyalive. And Mea’chi was wounded by living. Everything scarred him, good or bad,and he withdrew into a world of his own-first a room in a tower, a darklifeless place, then the castle entire. Soon the lands around began to die,trees withering away, fields barren of crops. The pain and fear of Mea’chi werelike a spell, spreading outward, killing what could not run, chasing everythingelse away. Tusival tried to bring his friend back, back to life, but he couldnot. In the end Tusival was forced to wall Mea’chi into his kingdom, where hepreys on the souls of the dying, breathing in the last whiff of life from thosewho pass through his gate.” She turned and pointed a finger off toward thesounds of the river. “That is where he took my daughter, only a child, breakingevery pact he had ever made. And then he created that … thing, thatmonster.” She seemed to wither away then, collapsing into a crouch, arms acrossher knees, a hand hiding her lovely face. “And he took my Tusival away … intothat lifeless place. Tusival, whom time could not touch.” She began to weepsoftly.
“And now he will take Wyrr as well, and eventually Aillyn,”Alaan said softly. “That is his plan. And Sainth’s brother, Caibre, will createthe monster for him.”
She wept on, seeming not to have heard, or to have cared.
“Mea’chi has one of your children,” Alaan said. “Will youlet him take the others? The children Tusival vowed Death would never have?”
She stirred a little, moving into a patch of shadow, andthere was a swan again, paddling slowly over the black pond, away from them.
“Meer,” Alaan called, “will you not help me?”
The swan hesitated, turning its elegant neck and lookingback at the man standing on the shore. For a moment it drifted
there, pushed bythe small breeze, turning slowly, then it came back toward the shore,disappearing behind a tree.
Tam expected the beautiful woman to appear again, but onlyher voice was heard.
“The resting place of Wyrr is on a branch of the river. Ahigh island where it is said Pora awaited her lover, who never returned.”
“I know that place!” Alaan said. “But where on the islandwas he laid to rest?”
“Look for the Moon’s Mirror,” the voice said. The woman appearedagain, Meer, and came toward Alaan.
“There is a stone,” she said intently, “a green gem, thatonce belonged to my Tusival. It passed to Wyrr, then to Aillyn before it waslost. I seek it.”
“Why?”
“Because it belonged to my love, and it would be a danger ifit fell into the hands of mortal men.”
“Certainly any spell placed upon it would have faded by now.”
She shook her beautiful head, gazing intently into Alaan’seyes. “Not these spells.”
“I don’t know it,” Alaan said, his gaze dropping to hisfeet.
She regarded him a moment more, her look a little mad and unsettling.Reaching out, she touched his face and pressed her own cheek close to his. Fora moment they stood thus, then she turned and blended into shadow. The swanappeared swimming on the pond, never looking back. And then it was lost indarkness on the far shore.
For a long time they all waited, but the swan did notreturn, and, finally, Alaan turned away. “There, Cynddl,” he said, “you havefound many stories of ancient times, but you’ve never met one of the figuresfrom that age.”
“I have met you,” Cynddl said.
“I am but a youth compared to Meer, or rather, Sainth is buta youth.” His eyes lost focus for a moment, and he hesitated as though suddenlylost.
“Where is this place she spoke of?” Cynddl asked.
Alaan gave his head the smallest shake. “It is on the hiddenriver. Few have traveled there. I doubt even our intrepid Theason has wanderedso far. Sainth was there long ago. It is a place made famous in an old tale: the Isle of Disappointment, it has been called, and the Isle of Waiting. Thereis said to be a ghost there though Sainth did not see it.”