The Fathomless Fire
Page 19
They gathered quickly around him. The doctor knelt and soon revived the boy with a splash of water to the face from his flask. The boy stared at them all, then his eyes fixed on Will.
“You are the boy from the other world,” he said.
Will stared at him, too stunned to speak.
“I ran,” the boy said haltingly. “From our camp. You must come with me. The wolf is there.”
“Shade?” Will cried. “He’s alive?”
The boy nodded.
“Where is your camp?” Finn asked. “How far is it?”
“I ran a long time. You must come with me. The Dreamwalker sent me to find you.”
They mounted and set off again across the dark plain, the boy riding with Finn, who took the lead. Will rode alongside on Cutter, and the boy glanced often at him. The look on his face, Will thought, was one of awe or even fear.
“What is your name?” Will asked him.
“Hawk,” the boy said. “Of the Horse Folk.”
“I’m Will. Will Lightfoot.”
The boy stared at him even more intensely than before, and Will looked away.
The land rose gently as they rode on. Finn questioned Hawk about where they were going and who the Dreamwalker was, but the boy would say only that he had been sent to find Will and bring him to his people’s camp, where Shade was. For his part, Will said little. All he could think about was that Shade had survived and soon they would see each other again.
The sky continued to rumble. White flashes and throbs of lightning pulsed within the thick clouds from time to time, but still there was no rain.
Dawn brought a pale, cold light to the plain. The great mass of cloud had drawn off, although the Hill of the Teeth was shrouded from view. Below them they saw a narrow stony valley, with the silver ribbon of a stream winding through it. On the far side of the stream, on a wide space of flat ground, Will saw with surprise a group of lodges, their cone-shaped walls of bleached animal skins gleaming white in the sun. A couple of underfed-looking ponies, one grey and the other dun, were tied to one of the lodge poles. The scene before him was something like what he had imagined when his mother told him the story of Lightfoot, but it was also very different, and he wondered why.
“A Horse Folk village,” the doctor said as they drew up on the crest of the hill. “But there’s no camp smoke. It doesn’t look as though anyone’s here.”
“And there are precious few horses,” Balor said. “Odd, for Horse Folk.”
“The people left,” Hawk said. “There’s only the three of us now.”
They rode carefully down the hill, which was steeper and rockier on this side, dotted with strange stone formations: tall pillars of striped brown and tan sandstone, capped with flat rocks. The pillars looked eerily like giant human figures standing in the slanted dusky light. Finn took the lead, and when they had passed between two of these pillars he pulled up his horse suddenly. A girl was crouching in a patch of darkly leaved bushes, picking pale red berries and putting them in a woven basket she carried over one arm. Will and the others drew up behind Finn.
The girl heard the sound of hooves on bare earth and looked up. She was small, probably a year or two younger than the boy. Her long black hair was braided up at the back. She wore a dress of pale animal skin ornamented with tiny shells of many colours.
She looked at her brother and at the strangers, then she rose to her feet, watching them with an intense, unmoving gaze. When she looked past Finn and saw Balor, she slowly began to back away.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Balor said quietly.
“My sister,” the boy said. “Moon. She will not speak to you.”
“We noticed,” quipped the wildman. Will thought of his own sister Jess and how quiet she had been after their mother died. Had something like that happened to Hawk’s sister? At the thought of his family, he felt keenly how far he was from home and how once again he had run off and left them. And yet somehow here he was, it seemed, in a story his mother had told him. He had come so far, and yet not far at all.
“Why did the people leave?” the doctor asked Hawk.
Hawk looked troubled at the question.
“They fled from the Sky Folk,” he said. “My father, the Dreamwalker, would not leave. He said you,” he looked straight at Will, “would be coming soon, and he had to wait for you. He wanted us to leave with the others, but we stayed with him.”
They descended the rest of the way to the bottom of the hill, forded the shallow, rushing stream and rode into camp. There were five lodges in a partial ring, but only two were still wholly covered in animal hides. The others had been mostly stripped of their skins and little more than bare willow poles remained, lashed together at the top with strips of rawhide. There were bare circles in other places with the remains of fire pits, and Will guessed that other lodges had been set up in these spots but had been taken down. As they dismounted and led their horses through the camp, they saw various clay bowls and stone tools scattered on the ground. In the centre of the camp the ashes of a dead fire lay heaped in a pit ringed with stones. Above the fire pit was a rack on which hung a few thin strips of dried meat.
It was obvious that most of the Horse Folk had left in a hurry.
A small dog ran from behind one of the lodges, followed by another, larger one. They were both barking frantically, but ceased when they approached the strangers, and circled them warily.
Finn and the others tied their mounts to a pole nearby. Hawk led them to one of the two lodges that were still intact. He lifted the doorflap and they stooped and went in, with Hawk following. Will looked back as he entered and saw that the girl had remained outside. She was watching the sky.
When he turned from the bright daylight to the darkness inside the lodge, he saw only dim shapes at first, and in the centre the glowing embers of a small fire. There was a large, shaggy form lying on the dirt floor, a form that raised its head as he entered. Behind him, Balor lifted the doorflap higher as he came in after Will, and the light from outside flooded the lodge. Finn and the doctor followed after the wildman.
“Shade!” Will cried.
It was the wolf. He had been lying with his front legs stretched out but climbed to his feet as Will hurried to his side.
“Will Lightfoot,” the wolf said. Will threw his arms about Shade’s neck and his hands plunged into the wolf’s thick, warm fur, and it all came back to him: the feeling of comfort and security the wolf’s presence had given him on their long journey together. He had missed that without realizing how much, until now. He felt the wolf’s warm life glowing beneath his fur and he closed his eyes and let the tears come.
“You’re alive,” he breathed.
“I am,” Shade said, and his voice was husky with emotion. “It is very good to see you, Will Lightfoot.”
“We’re glad to see you, too, Shade,” Finn said. “Mimling the dwarf brought your message to us.”
Will glimpsed bare red flesh along the wolf’s flank. He pulled away.
“Are you…?” he asked.
Alazar crouched down beside Will.
“I am a doctor,” he said to the wolf. “May I examine your wound?”
“It is healing,” Shade said. “The Horse Folk found me and tended to me. There is no longer any danger. The Dreamwalker told me you had come back to the Realm, Will Lightfoot. He said you were on your way here and that I should rest and wait for you.”
He turned his head and only then did Will see that someone was sitting at the back of the lodge, on the far side of the fire. He squinted in the dim light and saw that it was a man, reclining against a backrest made of lashed-together bones. His grey hair was twined in two long braids down the front of his buckskin shirt. His eyes were milky orbs.
He was the blind man Will had seen in his dream. And now that he saw him he knew why he had felt no sense of fear or danger. He knew this man was the Dreamwalker the boy had spoken of and that he meant them no harm.
“You and you
r friends are welcome in my lodge,” the blind man said.
“Thank you for helping Shade,” Will said.
“He is one of the Old Ones,” the Dreamwalker said. “He has always walked in the Dream Country. That is where I saw him, and had him brought here before his enemies found him.”
“Do you know who was hunting Shade?” Finn asked the blind man.
“We call them the Sky Folk. They first came to our land seven summers ago, from the north. They came from the clouds, flying on what we thought at first were great birds with white wings, but they were not birds, they were vessels of wood like those built to travel on water. They had strange weapons, and we were frightened because servants of the Storyeater were among them. But they told us they were enemies of the Storyeater, and they would protect us from him.”
“Storyeater … you mean the Night King, Malabron,” Finn said.
The Dreamwalker turned his head. He seemed to be pondering what Finn had said.
“I have not heard those names,” he said at last. “He is the Storyeater. His servants are at war with the Sky Folk, who have claimed all this land as theirs, from here to the ghostlands in the north, and permit no one to travel across it without their permission.”
“The ghostlands. What sort of place is that?” Alazar asked.
“The Horse Folk do not go there,” the Dreamwalker said. “Evil spirits walk there, and the land is broken and holds no life.”
“Sounds like your barren lands, Will,” Balor murmured.
“The Sky Folk dwell there,” the Dreamwalker went on, “but there is nothing for them to eat, and that is why they have taken our lands too. They hunt the wisent, killing many more than they take away with them for food. If this goes on, soon the great herds will be no more. And we will be no more. Our young men are in awe of the Sky Folk and their weapons: fine spears, knives of polished metal, strong bows. Too many of our warriors have already gone with the Sky Folk to fight the servants of the Storyeater, and few have ever returned. And now the rain does not fall, and the grass withers, and our hunters search in vain for the wisent.”
“But why were the Sky Folk hunting Shade?” Will asked.
The Dreamwalker turned to the wolf.
“He can tell you that.”
Shade raised his head.
“I have news of your brother, Finn Madoc.”
“Corr?” Finn exclaimed. “What have you heard?”
“After Will Lightfoot had gone home to his world,” Shade said, “I went searching for Speaking Creatures like myself. I journeyed far and wide without finding any. At last I came to these lands, and I heard about the Sky Folk, how they were hunting my kin, the wild wolves of the plains, and taking them prisoner. The Sky Folk make slaves of them for their war against the Storyeater’s servants.
“I went north then, searching for the Sky Folk, to find these wolves and free them if I could. One night a great wind rose, bringing black clouds that blotted out the stars. There was much lightning and thunder, but no rain. I found a trail of blood in the grass. A man’s blood. I thought someone might be hurt and in need of help, so I followed the trail and caught up with the one who had left it, a man stumbling across the plain. His clothes were torn and his bare feet were cut and bleeding. When he saw me he tried to run, but he fell. I told him I would not hurt him and he seemed to understand me, though he could barely speak, and his mind was wandering so that he made little sense, but at last he was able to tell me he was from the Bourne, and he was trying to get back to it.”
“Was the man Corr?” Finn said.
“I told him that I had friends in the Bourne, and he asked me to go to the Errantry with a message. He said his name was Yates.”
“It must have been Brannon Yates,” Finn said, “my brother’s right-hand man. He was a knight-errant before he deserted to join Corr’s band.”
“The man said he had news for the Errantry,” Shade went on, “about Corr Madoc. But before he could tell me any more a baying rose above the noise of the thunder. I had not caught their scent but we were surrounded by wolves. The man was terrified. These wolves were not wild. They had been sent to hunt him down. I stood in front of him, to protect him, and their leader sprang at me. He was strong, but too furious and reckless to fight well. I killed him easily.”
Shade’s lips curled back from his teeth as if he was recalling a distasteful memory.
“His blood tasted … like sickness. I think a poison is in these wolves, to make them full of rage and hate. But when they saw what I had done to their leader, the other wolves ran off. I tried to help the man walk, but he was like the wolves, I understood now. The same poison was in him. We didn’t get very far when a dark cloud appeared above us, moving against the wind. There was a great flash of light and fire. Everything became darkness and pain. When I could open my eyes again the man was gone. I smelled the wolves, not far away. Now they were hunting me. I tried to run but I could barely crawl. I took shelter in a cave and that’s where I met Mimling Hammersong. And that is all I remember, until I woke up in the Horse Folk camp.”
“If Yates was running from these … Sky Folk, Corr and the others must be their prisoners, too,” Finn said. “But why? Corr would’ve joined forces with them against the Nightbane.”
“The Sky Folk do not befriend anyone,” the Dreamwalker said. “They only take.”
Finn said nothing. Will could see that the young man was far away in his own thoughts.
“We don’t know for certain what’s happened to your brother,” Alazar said, studying Finn with a look of concern. “The truth is he may be…”
“He’s alive,” Finn said.
“We shouldn’t be making any plans until we know more.”
Finn nodded slowly, but he wouldn’t look at the doctor. Shade turned to Will.
“You must return to Fable, Will Lightfoot,” the wolf said. “The Sky Folk are still hunting for me. If they find you here they will take you, too. They take the young and strong, to fight in their war.”
“I’m not leaving here without you, Shade,” Will said.
“Then we will go together. I am strong enough now that I can walk, but I will be slow, so we must leave as soon as we can.”
“If these Sky Folk come back,” Alazar said to the Dreamwalker, “you and your children will be helpless.”
“Now that you have come, we will leave this place and follow after our people. The Sky Folk do not take the blind or the very young.”
“Still, perhaps there is another way,” Finn said. “Alazar, Balor, we need to talk.”
The three Errantry knights excused themselves and left the lodge. The Dreamwalker turned to Will again, raising a hand to beckon him closer.
Will went to the man’s side. The Dreamwalker reached up and took Will’s hand in his thin, leathery hand. Will was surprised at the urgency of his grip, as if the Dreamwalker was trying to see him through touch rather than sight. Will felt a surge of fear and almost pulled his hand away. A moment later the Dreamwalker let him go.
“I have walked far enough in the Dream Country to have learned that the world my people know, the world of grass and earth under the sky, is not the only one,” the Dreamwalker said. “There are as many worlds as the sky holds stars. You are from a world stranger than any I have ever walked in. You are the boy who is light of foot, and yet you are not.”
“You … know about Lightfoot?” Will asked.
“I dreamed of him many years ago. Long before the Sky Folk came to our lands and claimed them as their own. I dreamed of his travels and his brave deeds, and I wondered why I saw this boy from far away in the Dream Country. When the Sky Folk came with their lightning and their weapons, I thought, now is the time when that boy will walk among us. And then you came in search of your friend, and you are called Lightfoot, but you are … not him. I did not see this. You are Will Lightfoot, the pathfinder, and you have a different task. You must find a path for someone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know anyone like that.”
“I have seen her with you in the Dream Country. A young girl with hair the colour of fire. She does not yet know all that she will become.”
“Rowen!” Will exclaimed. He felt a sudden longing for her that set his heart pounding. “It must have been Rowen. What did you see? Do you know if she’s all right?”
“I saw that you had been with her not many sunsets ago, and you wish to be with her again. That is your greatest desire.”
“It is. Why did you call her the … weaver of worlds?”
“Very soon she will make a long and dangerous journey, to the place on the far side of all the worlds. I see beings there who wish her harm. They hate and fear her for the great power that she will find within herself. The power to weave new worlds, new dreams.”
“Are you saying this is something that’s really going to happen?” he asked breathlessly. “That it’s not just a dream?”
“What you and your companions call Story, my people call Dream. She will make this journey, to the land of the one who devours stories. And there she must make a new story, as the weaver weaves the threads and her own life together to make a new pattern in the cloth. This she must do for the sake of every being in all the worlds. This is her task, and only you can help her accomplish it.”
Will shook his head. He understood very little of what the Dreamwalker was saying, but still he felt fear for Rowen clutching at his throat. The one who devours stories had to be Malabron, the Night King. If the Dreamwalker was telling the truth, Rowen would be going to the Shadow Realm. But why?
“Do you know where Rowen is now?” he asked.
“She is still where you last saw her, in her grandfather’s house. She has not yet left on her journey, but very soon she will. And now that you are here, I see that you must go with her. The road will be long and there will be many dangers. She will falter and lose her way. You must help her find the path. And you must stay with her, or she will surely fail in her task and be lost for ever. And darkness will come to all the worlds.”