The Lion of Farside tlof-1

by John Dalmas

"The ylver. Those guilty of the rape at Ferny Cove; she told you about that. And most particularly on an ylf named Cyncaidh."

  "On the ylver? Idri's the one who stole Varia from me. If she was here, I'd show you vengeance."

  Liiset had no doubt he meant it. Sweet innocent Curtis has changed, she told herself. Idri's impulsiveness at work. Well, no doubt it's for the best. Sarkia seems pleased, and she doesn't make many mistakes. Though if she could see him now… "I appreciate your feelings," Liiset said, "but you'd have a hard time killing her if she were here. She has considerable powers."

  "Bullshit. If she was here, she'd be fly bait. I guarantee it." He paused. "What's this Kincaid to me?"

  "There is much you don't know yet. Much you couldn't know." She put her hand on the tomttu's shoulder. "Curtis," she said, "this is Elsir. Elsir, tell Commander Macurdy what you know of my sister."

  The tomttu didn't read auras; he simply saw them and got an overall impression, discerning little of their detail. This man it seemed to him, was dangerous. "My lord, she knocked at my door in the forest, limpin', and with a pack on her back. It was the start of dusk, and I'd just built a fire in my fireplace. I'd have asked her in, but she'd have had to squeeze through the door on hands and knees, and couldn't have been comfortable inside anyway.

  "So I asked what I could do for her, and she told me she'd run away from her Sisters, hopin' to reach a gate and go back to her Curtis. To you. She asked if I knew of any dangers ahead, and if I could spare her somethin' to eat.

  "I told her I knew of no dangers that she didn't; there always bein' dangers in the wilderness. And that I'd be glad to spare her a loaf, and a small mess of greens. Not enough for a tallfolk, but all I had."

  He shrugged his small shoulders. "She lay down to rest on the grass then, and I'd just come back out with the loaf-when there they were, a dozen ylvin devils trottin' up the path! Soldiers on a spyin' mission, I have no doubt. Had they been ordinary humans, they'd never have seen my hut, nor your Varia lyin' by it, for I'd protected it with a spell. She'd fallen asleep, and when I opened my mouth, their leader broke my spell with a wave of his hand, the same leavin' me paralyzed and without speech. It wasn't till one of them raised her by the hair that she wakened."

  He feigned a shudder. "They questioned her, strikin' her repeatedly, and-did other things to her. And when they were done, all of them, they tied her weepin' and bleedin' across one of their horses, and rode away laughin'. But before they left, I heard the others call their leader Cyncaidh."

  Macurdy's tight lips writhed, and Elsir thought his small heart would stop. "Myself they left where I lay," he went on, "and I don't mind tellin' you I was frightened half to death. Any fox that came along, let alone wolf or catamount, could have had me for supper! But about midnight the paralysis wore off, and I managed to crawl inside and bolt my door.

  "The next day, another Sister came along, on horseback with a guardsman, and I told them what I'd seen."

  Liiset spoke then. "That was Berit, another of our clone. She'd been tracking Varia, and turned back at once. Then Sarkia sent a master of concealment and tracking to follow the ylver's trail, north to the Big River and beyond. He followed them through the Marches and into the empire itself. And far to the north, to Cyncaidh's palace by the Northern Sea.

  "He took his life in his hands then, and allowed himself to be seen. After weaving a spell to resemble an ylf, a spell adequate to fool the common ylver. If one of the more powerful had seen him though…

  "He'd ask one of them an innocent question or two, then ask someone else a question based on what he'd learned from the first. Repeating this a few times, he learned how she'd fared: Cyncaidh had made Varia his slave and concubine, holding her up to public mockery."

  Macurdy's aura had thickened and darkened with anger. And there was more which Liiset couldn't read. "They're evil, Curtis," she finished. "And that's where your vengeance belongs: on the ylver and Cyncaidh."

  His voice was husky when he answered. "And why not on your Sisterhood as well? It was you who stole her. Took her away by force, otherwise none of this would have happened. I've talked with an Ozman who said her hands were chained when she arrived. And Idri's man tried to rape her."

  Liiset took his hard stare easily, though clearly he knew more than Sarkia or any of them had realized. "That's true," she said. "And Idri herself killed him for it. But Idri acted on her own in stealing Varia. And Sarkia punished her for it, saying that Varia owed us nothing, that if anything, we owed her. But Curtis, the ylver killed so many of the children and babies, at Ferny Cove… We needed her. That's the truth that Idri acted on."

  Macurdy had studied Liiset while she spoke, seeing more than she thought, and his intensity had eased. "If this Kincaid lives by the Northern Sea, what is this vengeance you offer?"

  "We talked King Gurtho into offering peace and autonomy to the Kullvordi, if they'll join his army. He's concerned about you, afraid you might defeat him."

  "What's that got to do with vengeance on the ylver? By spring, Gurtho will be finished anyway."

  "It's not just your vengeance we're interested in. The vengeance we want is for Ferny Cove, and that requires a large and powerful army. The crudest tribal chief would not have committed on us the brutalities they did, not on such a scale, and they savaged the Kormehri almost as terribly, earning fear and disgust through all the Rude Lands.

  "We've put embassies now in every kingdom but Kormehr, from the Eastern Mountains to the Great Muddy, and from here to the Big River. As Gurtho's general, you and Sarkia can put together a powerful army between now and next spring. With you as general, for somehow you've become a skilled and inspiring commander."

  Macurdy looked thoughtful instead of angry. "And how far do you expect me to lead it? Not to the Northern Sea."

  "It will be enough if you take it through the Marches and into the empire. The Marches are ready to kick free their ylvin shackles. At best they'll join with us. At the very worst they'll take no part on either side.

  "Simply to march into the empire itself will redeem our honor and be vengeance enough. Into the empire far enough that our allies can loot ylvin manors and take their wealth home with them. And by then the ylver's slaves may rise up. If they do, who knows how far we may go. If not-" Liiset shrugged. "The emperor will be glad to negotiate, and we'll demand Varia back. He'll give her to us, too. Then she'll be free to go back with you to Farside, or you can live here together, with far more wealth and power than you could ever have there."

  His gaze penetrated, then switched unexpectedly to the tomttu. "Elsir, where was she captured?"

  "Why-near the head of Tuliptree Creek, on the Laurel Notch Trail. But that's far off east of here, in the Dales at the east end of the Granite Range."

  Macurdy held the tomttu's eyes a moment longer, then returned his gaze to Liiset. "I'll think about it for a week or so," he said. "Send one of your guards as a courier then."

  Without another word he turned his back on her, nudging his horse into an easy trot. Liiset and Elsir watched him ride away, and from his perch in front of her, the tomttu spoke quietly. "Ah, lady, it's an evil thing we've done, lyin' to him like that."

  "It's not lying, Elsir, if it helps someone grasp a larger truth."

  The small face turned to her's. "A lie's a lie, whatever the intention." He turned again and watched Macurdy disappear into the forest. "And he knows I lied."

  "No, he was suspicious to begin with, but by the time I was done, he was convinced in spite of himself. And if it's any consolation, consider that we gave you no choice."

  "There's always a choice, lady. Even if the choice is death."

  "That was no choice for you, Elsir. Macurdy is no friend of yours. You never saw him before."

  "And may I never see him again, for I have greatly wronged him." He looked up at Liiset again. "I believe my people know more about the ylver than yours do. There are good and bad among them, but they've been much less evil to my people than humans have. Cy
ncaidh would not have made me do what your Dynast has."

  Liiset was touched by the tomttu's courage in speaking as he had, and laid a light hand on his shoulder. "Believe me," she said quietly, "the Dynast's spy did follow her, all the way north. And her captor's name is Cyncaidh. It was necessary that you lie a little." While I told only the truth, the truth according to Sarkia, who lies when it suits her.

  She helped Elsir move behind her, his long fingers clutching. When he was settled, she turned her horse and started back toward the North Fork Road. Macurdy had left with some intention in his mind, something that presumably would take a week, and she wondered what it was.

  28: Truth

  " ^ "

  Macurdy unsaddled his mount at the paddock, and told the herd boss he wanted five strong horses readied for himself and one other by midafternoon, two with pack saddles; and oats for twelve days. He glanced upward in irritation as he spoke, for rain clouds were moving in. Then he strode to his headquarters tent, where one of his runners, a fourteen-year-old, jumped to his feet.

  "Find Captain Tarlok. Tell him I need to see him right away."

  "Yessir!" the boy said, and took off at a trot. Macurdy fiddled briefly with supply records, occupying himself until Tarlok appeared. "Is there anyone in camp who knows the trails to the Granite Range, and the Dales?" Macurdy asked. "I need a guide, on a mission only I can do. For information."

  Tarlok frowned. "How long will you be gone?"

  "Until I've learned what I need to know; it could be a dozen days or more. I'm leaving Jeremid in charge."

  Tarlok nodded. "Blue Wing could probably guide you."

  "He's needed here to scout or courier for Jeremid."

  "Well then, there's a lad named Fengal in my company, as good in the woods as any you'll find. He's only eighteen, but grew up wild. His mother is Indrossan, from someplace called Hemlock Cove. She died two years ago, and his dad came back to North Fork, bringing the lad with him."

  "Good. Have him sent here, with his horse, bedroll, and saddlebags."

  Tarlok nodded and got to his feet.

  "Another thing," Macurdy said, and told him to expect a courier from the Sisters. He was to lodge and treat the man as a semi-prisoner, treat him well but not allow him to talk with people. "I'm accepting him as a courier, not a spy," Macurdy finished.

  Tarlok acknowledged and left. Then Macurdy sent another runner to find Captain Melody and send her to his tent. His third runner he gave instructions that Fengal, when he got there, was to wait.

  He was packing his saddlebags and bedroll when Melody arrived, her tunic rain-spotted. "What is it?" she asked.

  "I'm going on a trip, with just a guide, and someone needs to know what I'm doing and why." He paused. "The Sister I talked to told me where Varia is. Supposedly. Where she is and how she is."

  Melody nodded soberly.

  "But I'm not sure how much of it I believe. She had a tomttu with her, to tell me part of the story, and both of them were lying part of the time."

  "Lying? How do you know?"

  "When Arbel worked with me, I learned to see what he calls auras, like a cloud of colored light around a person. I can see yours right now. And with practice, if you see them clearly and you're paying attention, you can tell when someone's lying."

  Melody stared at him. "She told me Varia was captured by an ylf named Kincaid, and taken north into the empire-way north, to the Northern Sea. That part she believes, but the rest she's not sure of. The tomttu said he saw her capture, and they both know that's a lie, but at least he saw her."

  He paused. "First I'm going to where the tomttu said it happened. Maybe I can learn something. Then-I'll do whatever comes next."

  "What about us? Your army?"

  "I'm leaving Jeremid in charge. He's as good as I am." He chuckled then, getting up. "In some ways, anyhow."

  She didn't smile. "When are you going?"

  "As soon as I've talked to Jeremid. Half an hour."

  She stepped forward, hugged him hard and kissed his mouth, then stood back and looked at him. "Come back to us, Macurdy," she said. "Come back to me, anyway."

  He didn't chuckle now. "I will," he said. "I promise." And wondered again why she felt the way she did.

  When Macurdy got back to his headquarters tent, Fengal was waiting. He was a lean youth of middle height, with a look of wiry strength; overall he made a good impression. Macurdy told him what he needed him for, while a courier went to get Jeremid, who arrived inside of five minutes. Macurdy told him he was leaving, going on a mission that only he could carry out, that would probably influence what they did next. And that the Sisterhood wanted an alliance-that a courier would arrive from them in a week or so. Tarlok would take care of the man.

  Then he and Fengal went to the cook tent for cooking gear and rations, and rode out of camp in another sprinkle of rain.

  For five long days they rode eastward, ignoring stealth, Macurdy picking up bits of woodscraft from Fengal. The days and nights were showery, with occasional brief hard rains, yet they made only a minimal camp at night, sleeping where dusk found them, spreading their oiled tarp over a quick frame of saplings. They left their cooking gear unused, their only fire at day's end, to dry or semi-dry their clothes, though they did bake potatoes in the embers. They were up at dawn with the thrushes and wrens, and ate in the saddle: jerky and hard bread, their jaw muscles aching from it, and cold baked potatoes. And occasional wild apples, worm-tunneled but edible, for on the old burns where they stopped to graze their horses, there sometimes were apple trees. Macurdy wondered how they'd come there.

  Finally they came to what Fengal said was the Laurel Notch Trail, used much by wildlife and seldom by man or horse. They turned off on it, northward now instead of east. Beside it, in a small wet meadow, they found horse bones gnawed and scattered; by a troll, Fengal said. Macurdy wondered what had become of the rider. As they continued north, he felt a growing tension, an excitement. He felt more alert, it seemed to him, than he'd ever been before.

  Now he watched for a tomttu hut; any spell of invisibility or protection should have dissipated, but if it not, Macurdy had no doubt he'd see through it. They crossed through Laurel Notch, and some time later passed a spring, the headwaters of the Tuliptree. Still no hut. He wasn't surprised. According to Maikel, tomttu didn't settle in the wilderness. They only traveled, or at most sojourned in it.

  What he did find were human bones, the thigh bones long. A tall man then. They weren't splintered and sucked dry by a troll, nor scored by the teeth of wolf or bear or some large cat. Its bones had been cleaned by smaller teeth, weaker jaws, beaks and worms and bacteria.

  Its chest had been cleaved by something long and sharp, seemingly a sword.

  He hadn't found it by the path. He'd felt an impulse to leave the trail, to snoop behind a laurel thicket not far away. Whoever had killed this man had dragged him there out of sight.

  "Not all that old," Fengal said, his voice subdued. "Old bones weather gray. These are still pretty white."

  Macurdy knelt, picked the skull up, looked into the empty eye sockets-and began to tingle. Abruptly disorientation struck him, then momentary confusion followed by an instant of blankness. Yet he didn't lose consciousness, just his sense of identity and time, looking through eyes not his own, as if he were someone else. It seemed he was striding uphill, breathing deeply, less alert than usual. Sensing nothing peculiar, nothing dangerous. Then a bowstring twanged, and there was a sudden, shocking impact, a horrible penetration that drove the strength from him, and he fell to his knees, staring down at a feathered shaft protruding from below his breastbone. Ambush! He was aware of men in buckskins, with swords, and strove to rise again. Felt a smashing blow cleave his rib cage, then looked down at his body from a viewpoint perhaps ten feet above it.

  But only for a moment. For instead of being absorbed with the reality of his death, his attention went to the action around him. Besides the cluster of men, there was his captive-filthy and with h
er hair stubble-short-staring at his broken body, her mouth round with shock. One of the ambushers held her from behind, gripping her shoulders, keeping her from falling.

  Until the sword struck, there'd been sound-hoarse breathing, feet on earth, the bustle of movement. Then it nearly stopped, silent as stone, the action below him in ultra-slow motion, speeding gradually, until there was sound again, slow and hollow. "You're all right, you're safe now," one of them said to the woman. The man who held her upright. "We know who he was, and who you are. A tomttu told us. He was anxious for you. Your tracker had been only hours behind."

  During that short speech, the speed normalized and the sound became natural, as if his mind had adjusted to a new input channel. Now, while still experiencing the murdered man's perceptions, he was aware of his own identity as Macurdy, heard and watched the sequence that followed, heard the tall ylf tell of Ferny Cove, saw the woman set on horseback. Saw them ride away, out of sight. There'd been no questioning, no blows, no rape, no harshness.

  Became aware of someone shaking his shoulder, and for a moment saw nothing, then awoke to present time, lying on soggy forest mould among the bones. It was Fengal who knelt beside him. "Major! Major! Are you all right?"

  Macurdy groaned, pushed himself to hands and knees and got up, his speech slurred. "Yeah, I'm all right. I-saw the whole thing: what happened here, what the dead man saw. It's what I came for. Now I know what I need to know."

  The youth stared at him in awe, not doubting. He knew his commander was a magician, had seen him light fires. They went to the sound of water over stones, dug dry punk from inside a hollow tree, built a fire, and for the first time used their griddle, making corn cakes.

  Macurdy remained preoccupied, as if still assimilating what he'd learned. When they'd eaten, instead of starting back to Laurel Notch, they lay down to nap. His last conscious thought was to wonder where Varia was, and what she was doing.

  29: Sea Gate