Amber Magic h-1

by B. V. Larson

  Donning their boots, cloaks and hats, the four of them followed Modi down to the docks in the swirling blizzard. The path was pitch-blackness streaked with white. The world lost its form only a few feet away in every direction. Only the stones along the path kept them from losing their way. Brand realized that the hurricane lamps would only have been visible from a few yards out on the river. He wondered if the Battleaxe Folk had keener eyes than did the folk of the River Haven.

  Despite his short legs, Modi marched quickly down the hill. The others had to hurry to keep up, except for Telyn, whose light tread barely seemed to sink into the wind-fluffed powder. Brand was surprised to see that the snow had already piled up in drifts two or three feet high in places. Modi plowed through it all as if it was nothing, giving the impression that snow was no more worthy of notice than mist on a fine morning. Likewise, the freezing wind that whipped his weathered cloak of earthen brown wildly about seemed no more to him than a light summer's breeze. The questions that they shouted at his back were snatched away by the wind, and in any case he answered them all with only broad, vague gestures of his long, thick arms.

  When they reached the docks they found a small boat there, made of stiff hides sewn together in the fashion of the Battleaxe Folk. In the middle of the leather boat sat a hunched figure wrapped in cloaks. At their approach, the figure stirred, but didn't rise. Telyn skipped forward, jumping down into the boat beside the figure. Modi stumped forward in sudden concern and stood on the dock, watching her and his companion closely. Brand had a sudden feeling that his eyes were less than friendly. He noted that one bulging fist now gripped the haft of his axe.

  Brand rushed forward, putting a hand on Modi's huge arm. It felt as if he had grabbed onto a boulder. “There's no need for that, sir,” he said. “She only wishes to help. She is a good healer.”

  Modi looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes were the color of tarnished steel. Then he returned his attention to the two in the boat. His hand remained where it was, as if he, Brand, were not worthy of concern. Brand wondered if he could even slow the warrior down, should he decide to act.

  Gudrin rose up and climbed out of the boat. She mounted the dock with deliberate movements that weren't those of someone frail or sick. She stood on the dock between them all. Telyn jumped up and stood at her side. The River Folk all stared at Gudrin, while she eyed each of them in turn. Modi watched the River Folk. His fist was still firmly planted on the haft of his axe, as if rooted there. Feeling a bit foolish, Brand let his hands slip down to his sides. He knew he was a strong man, very strong for his young years, and he could not but wonder how strong Modi was.

  “That's enough, Warrior,” said Gudrin. She made a gesture, and Modi reluctantly released his hold on his weapon. “We are clearly among friends.”

  Gudrin, unlike Modi, spoke their tongue flawlessly. Also unlike Modi, she was of normal size for her race, being perhaps four feet in height. The barrel-chested build, long arms and large features were all there, but her hair was dark gray shot through with streaks of white. She wore a black cloak, thigh-high boots and an old wide-brimmed hat of shapeless, colorless material. On her back she carried a heavy rucksack of riveted leather and tucked under her arm was a large package of some kind.

  “Greetings, good folk of the River,” she said, her voice booming in the storm. “I am Gudrin of the Talespinners.”

  They all nodded politely and introduced themselves. Corbin and Brand moved to help pull the boat up out of the water, so that it would not capsize during the night with the weight of the snow, but Modi waved them off with his large hands. Stumping down into the freezing water, he grabbed ahold of the boat's prow and dragged it up onto the shore single-handed. Lifting up two heavy packs, he unloaded the boat. Then without a word to anyone, he moved back to Gudrin's side, slinging one of the heavy packs over each shoulder.

  With Corbin and Brand trailing behind and at a bit of a loss, the party marched back up the hill to the house. When inside they stoked up the fire to a cheery blaze and Corbin worked in the kitchen to feed them something. After his guests had settled and been given steaming mugs of hot spiced tea, Jak asked them if they had caught sight of Myrrdin.

  Gudrin looked up sharply at the name. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She seemed to hold the package under her arm closer to her chest. Her eyes burned into Jak's, and for a moment Jak's face seemed emotionless, frozen. Then Gudrin nodded, as if to herself or someone unseen, and lowered her head. “Yes, yes, we've seen Myrrdin, but not for some time. It is he, in fact, that we've come to find.”

  Jak explained why they were on Rabing Isle rather than attending the festivities at Riverton.

  “So Myrrdin is not here to maintain the Pact?” asked Gudrin. “That is bad news indeed. I can think of nothing that would delay him from such an important task. Yes, bad news indeed. I believe it is as the signs portend.” She sighed and shook her head. She sipped her spiced tea, while Modi still eyed his mug doubtfully. “Ah, thanks for the refreshment. It has been a long journey.”

  “I assume you hail from the North?” asked Jak.

  Gudrin nodded, doffing her hat and cloak. “We came to the light,” she said.

  “The light?” said Telyn, leaning forward. “How could you see a light in such a storm?”

  Gudrin turned to face Telyn, who had been staring at her intently for some time. “And you, my fair lady,” she said. “Where do you hail from?”

  Their eyes locked for a few moments, and then Telyn dropped hers. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Brand could not hold his tongue. “She is Telyn of the Fob clan,” he told Gudrin. “She is from Riverton, on Stone Island.”

  Gudrin looked at him, and for a moment Brand felt the power in her eyes and knew why the others had been acting strangely. Those eyes were incredibly blue and as deep as the open sea-as wide as the sky on a clear summer's day. There was something there, something he'd never seen before. Gudrin gave him just a flash of her eyes before returning her gaze to Telyn. Brand swallowed in relief when Gudrin's attention shifted.

  She eyed Telyn a few moments longer and Telyn, for her part, bravely returned her gaze this time for several seconds before again dropping her eyes. Gudrin pursed her lips and nodded. She tapped the package clamped under her arm. Brand had the sudden impression that it was a large book of some kind, probably wrapped up to protect it from the river and the weather.

  “Children shouldn't play with flint and tinder, lest they burn more than tallow and timber,” Gudrin quoted. Brand half remembered the old rhyme from his childhood, but he was at something of a loss to understand its meaning now.

  Telyn, however, jumped as if struck. Her hands twined about one another. Brand realized Gudrin suspected Telyn had used magic, and she could be right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Telyn's Plan

  It was then, in the awkward moment of silence that followed, that Brand saw the rucksack on Gudrin's back jump, just a little. It was really more of a twitch, as if something inside had suddenly moved or shifted uneasily. He wondered vaguely if Gudrin had a rabbit in there or some other kind of captured game. Out of politeness for other people's customs, he decided not to mention it.

  “I don't understand your meaning, madam, but I do know that I have offered you hospitality and you don't seem overly gracious about it,” said Jak. Brand and Corbin exchanged glances. Brand knew that they were both thinking Jak was perhaps pushing too far. The Battleaxe Folk were known to be honest and just, but often gruff and surly as well.

  Gudrin dropped her powerful gaze, and for a moment she looked truly old and burdened. She leaned her head forward, rubbing the back of her neck. She sighed and looked back at them, smiling. It was a very different effect this time; her eyes no longer seemed to bore into one's head. They looked friendly and tired. “I apologize. You are clearly all good folk, you must understand that we are tired and have journeyed far. All the world is not at peace like the River Haven. I
n fact, very little of it is. We of the Kindred have suspicious natures that should be left at the border, but it is hard to change one's nature so quickly.”

  “Yes, I can understand that. It's very late. I think it's time we retired,” said Jak, nodding. His tone indicated that the apology was accepted. “Brand, Corbin, show our guests to their rooms when they're ready.”

  And so the lights were doused again, and the two strangers were given rooms in the back of the house with many apologies for the dust and old linen. As Modi mounted the steps, Brand felt sure they would give way under his weight. He now recalculated the warrior's weight to be greater than Corbin's. Considerably greater. On his way back to his own room, he passed by Telyn's room, and noted that the candle she had burned all night was now out. Telyn caught him by the arm as he went by and dragged him in, shutting the door.

  “They make me nervous. Don't you feel it? Gudrin has a power, I'm sure of it. That's why she saw my beacon,” said Telyn, speaking very quickly. Before Brand could comment, she snatched the candle he had been carrying to light his way and took it over to the window. With it she relit the candle in the window. “Well, I'm not going to have some old talespinner scare me out of my plans with a few words.”

  “Telyn, are you saying you think they saw your candle?” Brand asked. “How could they have?”

  She looked him in the eye. “You saw it last night, even though the shutters were closed,” she said. A far-away look came over her face. “To one of the Kindred, especially a wise one like Gudrin, it must stand out like a brilliant point of light visible for a great distance.”

  “But how?” he demanded, knowing the answer, but not wanting to hear it. “How is such a thing possible?”

  “Because it is a magical beacon. I've had visions about how to make it-the tallow is not normal tallow, there are many ingredients-but none of that matters now. I-” she came forward and took his hands. “I've got a bit of the power in me, Brand, just a spark. I've known it for a long time, the visions, this beacon, other things…”

  Fear came over Brand, a more direct and immediate fear than even the shadow man brought. He felt that he was losing Telyn. How could she ever be his when they reached marrying age if she indeed had some kind of power?

  “Telyn, in the River Haven, such things aren't looked upon favorably. Magic is strictly to be kept out of the Haven-for the River's sake girl, that's what the Pact with the Faerie is all about!”

  Telyn looked up at him. “I know. That's why I must meet the Faerie.”

  This time he reached out to her. He took her hands into his. “No, that's impossible, Telyn. I won't have you following a will-o-wisp or becoming a new trophy for the Wild Hunt.”

  Telyn pulled away from him with an irritated gesture. “I'm not suggesting anything so drastic. If I could just learn a few more things from them. They are so wise…”

  Brand's mouth felt dry. “Wise yes, but fickle and as full of malice and deceit as kindness and wisdom. No one but those performing the ceremony can even watch them in safety.”

  “I could. I could use your help as well. We'll go around behind the faerie mound, to the side where the forest comes close, and then-”

  “But we have no wards! We would be at their mercy!” burst out Brand.

  She shushed him with her delicate hand. She looked to the door and listened a moment before speaking further. Satisfied that no one had heard his outburst, she lifted her hand from his mouth. “I'm not a fool. I have wards. We will be in no danger.”

  Brand sighed aloud, finding it difficult to believe that he was having this conversation. See the Faerie? This was one of the greatest fears of any sensible person, not something that was planned for and sought out! Truly, this plan of hers topped them all.

  “Are you with me, or do I go it alone?” she demanded. She had the cast to her face that Brand knew meant a bout of stubbornness was near at hand. She had a stubborn streak as wide as the slowest part of the river.

  “I'll have to tell your mother. I'll tell everyone, I can't let you be led astray,” he said resolutely.

  Telyn tilted her head and gave him an amused half-smile. “You think you can stop me? You think you or anyone else in the Haven can even catch me?”

  Brand paused for a moment, considering. He sighed and looked dejected. “No, probably not. You'd just disappear into the trees or something…”

  “That's right,” she said, walking around him in a slow circle as she spoke. “I would. And then I would face the Faerie alone.”

  Brand rolled his eyes, unbelieving of his misfortune. “Okay, I'll come with you.”

  Telyn, who was halfway around on her circle jumped up with a happy sound and kissed the back of his neck. This sent a wave of nerves tingling and singing down his back.

  After that, she swore him to secrecy and he bid her goodnight. Just as he left, he looked at the candle again. She had placed his beside hers. His candle guttered and danced with the drafts, but hers burned steady and clear. This time there was no doubt of it. Telyn had worked magic.

  He went to bed for a second time that night with troubling thoughts. As he fell asleep, he wondered what other things might be attracted to her beacon.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Shade

  By the following morning the blizzard had stopped. The world had changed from green and brown to white and dark gray. Hoarfrost and icicles were already growing from the house's eaves. One particularly long icicle hung down in front of the doorway like a frozen dagger. It broke way and shattered when Brand went out to fill two tin pails at the covered well in the yard. Corbin followed him out to help.

  “Well, what do you think of them?” asked Corbin as they wound up the rattling chain. Far down in the echoing depths of the well the bucket sloshed and clattered against the stones.

  “I don't like this whole thing,” Brand replied.

  “Oh now, let's not be like your brother Jak,” said Corbin. “They are a bit rough in their ways, but I can imagine that Gudrin has many an excellent tale to spin. I've never heard one of their stories first hand, but they're said to be the best. Wouldn't it be quite a feather in our caps if we could present them at the feast tonight?”

  “What about Myrrdin?”

  Corbin made an expansive gesture. “Perhaps Gudrin could perform the ceremony. She seems as wise as any.”

  Brand looked at him quizzically. “Everyone around here seems so taken with outsiders lately.”

  “What's wrong?” asked Corbin, squinting at him. Just then the bucket came into view and they hauled it up and filled one of the tin pails. The bucket dropped back down with a long clinking rattle of the chain and a distant, echoing splash.

  Brand frowned before answering his cousin. Should he tell Corbin of Telyn's insane plans? She would be angry when she found out, but perhaps he could come up with some way to stop her. Still, he was reluctant to tell Corbin something she had told him in confidence. It was a troubling dilemma, he couldn't recall ever having held something back from Corbin before.

  “I don't know,” he said at last. “Nothing seems to be the way it was a few weeks ago.”

  They hauled up the bucket a second time, and Brand waited for what Corbin's mind to digest this. He began to fear that somehow Corbin already knew everything. It sometimes seemed as if he knew things that no one else did, simply because he reasoned them through so carefully and clearly.

  “It must be something about Scraper-Telyn, then,” he said slowly, piecing it together. Brand oftentimes thought of Corbin's head as a miller's wheel and stone. He always ground down hard facts into a fine dust. “She was acting oddly last night… Almost as if she expected someone besides Myrrdin. Not a pair of the Kindred, either.”

  Brand glanced at him and chewed a bit on his lower lip. He looked away, lest his eyes give away the rest of the puzzle somehow to Corbin's millstone. The bucket rose to the top a second time and they filled the second pail in silence.

  “Ah, I have it!” said Corbin tr
iumphantly. “She expected to see the Faerie at the door!”

  Brand and Corbin looked at each other. Brand shook his head in defeat. “I was never good at deceit, and you are like a wolf hunting a lost lamb if there is a fact missing in the world.”

  Corbin's look of triumph faded quickly, as more ramifications came to him. “But how is such a thing possible? And why would anyone want to meet the Faerie on their doorstep during a midnight blizzard?”

  Brand sighed. He explained what little he knew. He cautioned Corbin to secrecy, but knew that there was little hope that Telyn wouldn't figure out that Brand had told him of her schemes. She was almost as good as Corbin at delving into the truth, and Corbin was probably worse than Brand at hiding it.

  It was when they were trudging through the new fallen snow back to the house that Corbin dropped his pail of water.

  “Corbin, what are you doing, man?” Brand demanded. Then he stopped as he noticed that Corbin was standing stock still, looking out through the opening in the hedge where the path led down into the apple orchard. “What's wrong?”

  Corbin backed way to Brand's side. He pointed into the white encrusted trees. “There,” he hissed. “Beyond the fourth row. I saw something moving about.”

  They crouched down like hunters, Corbin pointing. To both their ears then came the sweet music of distant pipes. Corbin looked into Brand's eyes, their faces close together, the white plumes of their breath fogging the space between them. Brand knew the truth before his friend spoke.

  “It was your shadow man, Brand. I'm sure of it. I feel his spell now, calling us to come and dance.”

  The two of them rose up and ran into the house. Behind them the two tin pails spilled their water onto the snow, melting dark patches in the smooth expanse of white.

  Brand, always fleeter of foot, won the race to the door and burst through it. “Jak!” he shouted to his brother. “Get your crossbow!”