Golden Trillium

by Andre Norton

  She was still too tired to move, but now warmth spread within her and she breathed more easily. Jagun had stood over her watching with concern. At last he nodded, perhaps to her, perhaps to Salin.

  Hitching up his pack, he went toward the tunnel which the sword had blasted. With caution he edged to a point from which he could peer down it.

  “It still dies ahead,” he reported. “Yet, I do not think it wise to take this road, open as it may now be.”

  Kadiya wondered if she was able to take any road. She was more than a little frightened at this loss of strength. Well she knew that the use of Power drained one. She might hold in her hand the answer to cleansing the land—save that her body could not carry out that mission.

  “King’s Daughter, you can kill it!” For the first time Smail addressed her. “You can clear our land …”

  Slowly Kadiya shook her head. “I have not the strength. I am not one of great Power.” She picked up the sword once more. Yes, the eyes were firmly closed. Perhaps it was not only she who had been so exhausted. It could be that that which dwelt within her talisman had also been depleted for now. Or had it been drained past recovery?

  She fumbled it back into its sheath and now leaned her weight on her spear, struggling to rise. Smail and Salin aided her to her feet and she stood swaying between them, as weak as if she had lain long ill.

  That weakness awoke anger in her. She was no bower lady to be so overwhelmed! The swamp demanded much from those who would walk it—and walk it she would! This was her free choice.

  Kadiya licked her lips as her gaze swiftly passed the smear on the stone, the crumbling brush. She spoke to Jagun.

  “There is a way forward, hunter?”

  He pointed a little to the right of the brush which the Power had blasted. She could see no sign there of that yellow streaking, the withering.

  “That way, Farseer, but slowly.”

  Somehow Kadiya found strength to smile. “Well must it be slow, shield comrade. I am one who must now take but a step at a time.”

  12

  Since Jagun had steered them away from possible contagion they found the going more difficult. Ancient masonry no longer underlay the skin of earth and vegetation. Jagun and Smail took turns to sound out their footing with spear butts. To Kadiya’s surprise the isle on which they had landed appeared quite large, perhaps even greater than that which supported Trevista to the south.

  Her strength gradually returned and after the second day she was able to keep a better pace. She did not draw the sword again, though she glanced at the pommel from time to time, always to see those eyes closed. At length she began to feel uneasy, wondering if she had indeed used all its Power in that blast.

  On the afternoon of the fourth day they struck water again. The storms had swept heavily here, though the flooding had ceased now. However, the stretch of roiled liquid before them was as dark and thick as if the mud of a river bottom had boiled to the top. On the other side was a rise of growth as tall as any polder tree, yet this was a dark mass, caught and woven together by vines. And they were close enough to see that great thorns as long as the darts in Jagun’s shoulder case sprouted within the branches of that brush. There was no mistaking the beginning of the Thorny Hell, the stronghold of the Skriteks.

  Kadiya had passed through this twice but only upon the river, where the threatening thorny growth had walled the shores and did not have to be faced full on. Whether it could be pierced at all she began to wonder.

  They rummaged in their packs and brought out leaf water-walkers, stepping into the thongs and making sure that they were well fastened to their boots. Jagun adjusted the sling for his dart pipe, so that he might lay hand on it in an instant. Smail followed the hunter’s example after making sure the wisewoman’s leaf walkers were well adjusted.

  They headed on, the water-walkers serving them well. Kadiya continued to study the thick murk of the water closely. She had no doubt there were lurkers there; she only hoped that none were large enough to challenge the travelers.

  As they approached the thorny shield of the rising land the girl could not see any possible opening, though she knew that the Skriteks traversed their stronghold with ease. However, the Drowners were practically water dwellers, having a liking for swimming under surface and attacking their prey from such hiding. Did they use some hidden waterways to take them in and out of that cover?

  Still if Jagun was baffled by that barrier he did not show it. Kadiya tried hard, calling upon all the hunting lore she had learned from him, to spot any way of advancement. She did not expect to see him aim his spear directly at what appeared to be an impenetrable bush, work its head well into it, and then give a twist of his shoulders, exerting such strength as made his muscles stand visible under the skin where his jerkin had frayed away.

  Smail slid forward on his own water-walkers and aimed his spear near Jagun’s, then also bent to the task of twisting.

  The bush they had attacked, which stood almost as high as one of the city’s garden trees, shook. Kadiya saw a brilliant red snake drop from a top branch, appear to spread fin-like wings and so glide to another perch farther away. A cloud of insects, thick enough almost to veil Kadiya’s sight, whirled upward.

  Jagun and the young Uisgu only strained the harder.

  Kadiya would not have believed their efforts possible if she had not seen the bush slowly bend to the left. Where it had stood there was a dark opening, a ragged path floored with black earth giving out a rotting smell.

  Still holding the brush aside Jagun gave an order.

  “In, Farseer, Salin.”

  Kadiya obeyed, gingerly placing trust in the hunter’s knowledge, though she half expected to find herself wedged against those thorns, long and strong enough to impale her.

  There seemed to be a tunnel through the barrier here but it had been fashioned for wayfarers Oddling size and Kadiya had to stoop to escape having her helm brushed off by the thorns and swinging vines. The latter she watched warily, remembering only too well her struggle in the city of the Vanished Ones.

  Here was not only the usual fug of the swamp but she caught now and again a whiff of Skritek body odor. There was none yet of the putrid breath of the plague.

  She squeezed to one side as Jagun joined her, ready to take the lead.

  “This is a Skritek trail?” she demanded in a half whisper.

  “It is a way—the only way we can take for entrance,” he returned. “It is not long and it will bring us to the Sal Tower.”

  They put Salin in the middle, with Jagun and then Kadiya before, and Smail bringing up the rear guard. Kadiya’s amulet was warm against her flesh. Glancing down she could see the golden light it cast through the near translucent scales of her mail shirt. But she did not need that warning.

  Though there was no water here to hide a Skritek ambush, she could not be sure that the sharp thorned walling would not suddenly fall away to reveal a war party.

  Jagun was advancing as if he knew exactly what he was about and the girl had enough confidence in his trail knowledge to hope that they could traverse this awesome tunnel without attack. It was true that the Skritek scent was not as strong as if there had been recent passage here.

  She heard a sharp crack behind her and slewed around ready to confront an enemy only to see that Salin had broken a thorn from a near branch. It was not the sullen black of the other growth but grayish and now the wisewoman reached for another such. At her sharp tug that also parted from the parent wood.

  “What—?” Kadiya began.

  Salin was already harvesting a third. “Darts,” the Uisgu woman returned. “Such darts will serve us well.”

  There was an answering grunt of agreement from Smail. However, he did not loose hold on his weapons to aid in the harvest.

  As they worked their way on, Salin not only added to the store of thorns she was binding together, but here and there caught at a leaf of some vine or even a twist of evil-looking blossom which in Kadiya’s eye too
much resembled the head of a vibon viper.

  It was humid and damp in this place. Sweat gathered under the edge of her helm, to trickle down her cheeks, even drip from her chin. Her hands were slippery on the spear and she found herself aware of breathing as if the act was an effort. There was no way here of measuring either time or distance and Jagun was continuing single-mindedly as if a strong will drove him.

  When he did halt it was because they were faced by what looked to be an impenetrable wall of brush. He shrugged off his pack and movement from behind Kadiya testified that Smail was doing the same. Once more the young Uisgu stepped level with Jagun, though here they were crowded very close together by the walls of the hidden way.

  Both spears thrust deep into the mass of the thorns as Nyssomu and Uisgu strained together.

  There was no response except the whipping of the thorn branches, as if the vegetation had power to reason and repel. Kadiya slipped off her own pack. Though the slit in the living wall left her very little room in which to maneuver and she could not straighten to her full height, the girl pushed her own spear between those of the Oddlings, jabbing the point as deeply as she could into the mass. When the head caught and held, she added what strength she could in a united effort.

  At last she felt movement. This time the tangled vegetation was not sliding to one side, but rather retreating as if they were pushing a cork out of a flask. The girl could feel as well as see the tension of the Oddlings and readied herself for a last assault.

  That break came so suddenly that they all staggered forward, almost thrown off their feet. Light broke the gloom of the tunnel way. But with that came something else … the putrid odor of the plague.

  Jagun and Smail edged forward very carefully. Ahead was an open clearing. However, they did not move as yet beyond the edge. Stones covered the ground to form a barrier against the rooting of the thorn. It was larger than they first thought as they studied it cautiously to find a way among those rocky blocks. Certainly there had once been construction here. On the top of one block, within a hand’s distance of Jagun, coiled a brilliant red and black banded lenth. Warning was already on Kadiya’s lips, but the hunter swung with practiced speed bringing spear butt down with smashing force which left the viper half crushed, though still wriggling.

  Such crawling perils would find fine cover in this place, Kadiya knew. But now she was surveying the ruin studded ground for traces of another kind of death—the yellow leprous patches of that evil to which they could not as yet give any name, save plague.

  She sighted one such at last, half in the shadow of what once had been a tower. Only a portion—the first story and half of the second—remained of what must have been an imposing structure.

  Smail crouched by the stone where the viper had died and cut off the head, which he then pushed by knife point into a small pouch, fastening the string very tight. Lenth poison on the point of a dart formed a very deadly weapon.

  Kadiya, swinging her spear before her, picked a careful way from one bare rocktop to the next in the direction of the tower. Well away from the brush wall through which they had come, she could better view that splotch at the base of the tower. It was not a large spot—apparently the lack of vegetation there had kept it from spreading. However, as she turned a little she could trace the rot back toward the wall through which it had issued—and a second line of slimy, putrescent splotches continuing on from the tower base, as if they marked footsteps.

  She believed that the ruin must mark a stopping place, even a camp—if the thing they hunted was such that camped. In some places the infected vegetation had formed what appeared to be pools of liquid decay. About the edges of some of those, she thought she could see what might even be the skeletons of small creatures, some seeming to show phosphorescence in this cloud dimmed daylight.

  Jagun had joined her on an adjacent perch among the rocks.

  “It has come and gone.” Apparently he read those tracks even as she had done.

  She remembered the black blot which had appeared in the scrying bowl. This had certainly been the location of that scene. But where had it gone? The trail she could see crossed to the opposite side of the open space surrounding the remains of the tower.

  Kadiya fingered the sword. Her talisman had destroyed the plague, brought a welcome death to that poor Oddling the foul blot had attacked. But if they must follow that noisome trail through the thorns, would the Power have renewed itself enough for her to cut a clean path for them? Jagun had known of a way to the tower, thus they had gotten so far without having to contend with the plague again. It was apparent now, though, that the tower had not been the final goal of what they must deal with.

  Even as she stood there, the dusk grew deeper. They must find some kind of shelter—other than the infected tower—and rest out the night. A more unlikely camping spot she had never seen than this viper-ridden maze of rocks.

  However, they dared not push on. All of them were tired from their march this day. Salin had sunk down on a stone, curling in upon herself, rubbing at her legs and ankles. The very droop of her figure was a warning that the wisewoman must be near to the end of her energy.

  “A camp?” Kadiya hazarded, looking away from the ominous tower now and out over the ruins. The rain had stopped, though the air was dank and humid. Perhaps they could stay in the open and not fear the coming of another burst of storm.

  Jagun was revolving slowly on his own perch—intent on the territory ahead and to their right. Now he pointed with his spear.

  Three masses of masonry had somehow tipped toward each other to form a space which was half sheltered. The hunter dropped from his lookout point and padded carefully toward it. He reached the opening and stooped a little to survey what lay within. It was well away from the plague trail with mostly bare rock between it and that foul road, and therefore free from danger of pestilence.

  At his wave, Kadiya (having again shouldered the pack she had brought out of the tunnel) reached out a hand to Salin, who dug her staff in between two stones, and with its support pulled herself determinedly to her feet.

  They had not chosen too badly the girl decided after Jagun and Smail had clawed away some of the earth which had sifted around the three improvised walls and made sure there were no viper holes. The flooring was stone, and cold. Nor could they hope for a fire. But it was better than huddling in the open.

  Their provisions were trail food, dry on the tongue, with only a few sips of the water they carried with them to make it chewable. Salin groped in the bag which hung from her girdle and produced some twists of dried leaf which she shared out and they chewed. The coarse appearance of these bits was deceptive. Kadiya found them refreshing as they mixed with saliva. In fact they were as invigorating as some of the reviving drinks she had known in the Citadel.

  The wisewoman turned her bundle of harvested thorns over to her grandson, who was already busy with the smoothstone from his dart bag, working the hard pieces into straight lengths which he then passed to Jagun. The hunter was ready with a knife to trim delicately at the narrow tips, though the twilight had so far advanced that he must have worked more by touch than sight.

  Kadiya sat cross-legged, her own hands slipping up and down the length of the sword. At her last clear sight the eyes had been lidded. Still, unless she deceived herself by hope, it seemed there was a warmth about the pommel which she could detect when she held a finger close to the lidded eyes. The amulet continued in its warmth though its light was limited by the mail coat she wore.

  “Wisewoman,” she asked, “has any message of Power come to you? Where does this thing of evil go? Can you scry and tell us?”

  She could not see the face of the Uisgu woman but she was mentally aware that the other was troubled.

  “One of Power, we are now in a country where others rule. Always the Skritek have been servants of evil. And evil has its own ears and eyes—yes, and senses beyond those. Should I raise my Power it may be a summoning for what we have not strength
to face. However, there is another way.…” She spoke hesitatingly as if she was not sure of the suggestion she was about to make.

  Kadiya felt movement beside her and then a faint sound as if metal touched stone.

  “King’s Daughter, bring forth that amulet which you wear.” She spoke abruptly, almost as an order. Kadiya obeyed, wriggling the piece of amber on its chain out into the open.

  Fingers closed about her wrist to draw her hand forward. At the same time the light of the trillium-heated drop increased so that she could see dimly the amulet dangling now over Salin’s empty scrying bowl. The side of the basin reflected the light almost as though they had a dim lamp in their midst.

  “Power, King’s Daughter,” Salin ordered. “Give me of your Power. Will it!”

  Kadiya did as best she could, concentrating on the amulet with a picture of Salin in her mind.

  As the liquid had seethed in the other scrying so it appeared to the girl that the light of the amulet began also to swirl. As it had been when she held the sword to slay, so did she feel her strength begin to drain down her arm, feeding through her fingers into the amulet.

  Now the amulet itself moved in a small, tight circle over the churning mist of light. Below the center of that circle, there formed a picture.

  It was perhaps no larger than she could measure with a finger’s length, but for some moments of shock it was as clear as if she were within the basin, a part of what she viewed.

  Skritek, but with them another. This was no refugee from Voltrik’s destroyed army. Rather it was a caricature of something else—one of the Guardians from the lost city! There was no mistaking the features, twisted and fallen away as they were, nor the body, though it was stooped and shrunken, as if it were a glove from which the hand had been withdrawn. She certainly saw one of the Vanished Ones, save that this creature was the very embodiment of death, rot, and despair. From that shrunken body there shone the same greenish yellow as that given off by the victims of the plague.