Seventeen
"They're back," Katie said, sniffing the sharp tang of wood smoke. She resumed humming to herself as Mousehold hove into view through the trees.
It was a homely sight, Kal thought, after their long walk through the seemingly endless tract of forest. Smoke curled languidly from the chimney of the cottage in the still, early evening air that hung over the sheltered glen. The sinuous column twisted, dancing slowly in the shafts of golden light that slanted through the trees behind them.
"Aye, that they are, Mistress Katie," Kal said as the two stepped over the lip of the rise to where the path fell to the ruins below.
"That they are—mission accomplished, I hope, and no doubt as ravenous as a pair of wolves on the prowl."
Like an unexpected apparition, Gelanor rose to his feet from the far side of the crumbling glence wall, brushing leaves and dirt from the wolf's pelt that draped his back.
"Ho, Wood Maid! So, you're back!" the man bellowed across the clearing, lifting an enormous hand in greeting. "Not as quiet as you might have been! And my lord Hordanu treads more like the bear than the wolf. Aye, more bear than wolf!"
"We didn't want to catch you unawares and startle you, my good bard."
"What? Ho!" Gelanor let loose a great laugh. "Still, you did catch me taking a wee bit of a snooze," he said, stretching his arms as he stirred himself to wakefulness. "Figured we'd get the fire laid for supper, then have a rest 'til you returned."
"Well-earned, I'm sure," Katie said. "But where's your companion?"
"Here. Right here with me. And it's a sight, a sight to be sure!"
Already Kal and Katie were skirting the ruins, Kal pressing ahead of the old woman for once, weaving his way along the path around the fallen blocks of masonry. The great red-haired man now stood in full sight, unkinking his neck and limbs. Beside him, sitting leaned against the ragged stone of the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, was Gwyn, hunched over a chunk of wood he was busily carving. A dun wolf's hide hung around his shoulders, all but covering his head and frame.
"You've no need to worry about him, believe me. I've never seen a fellow as brave, nor as good with a bow. The lad's a wonder. Wears his pelt with real pride, too, real pride," Gelanor said, fists planted on his hips, a twinkle in his eye. "And as apt with a knife as with a bow. But that's not the most of it, and if he were less taken in attacking that wood block of his, he'd be quicker off the mark to show you a rare thing! Come, now, Gwyn, show them your—" A look of astonishment spread across Gelanor's rough-hewn features as the young Holdsman scrambled to his feet. Flinging back his wolf's-head visor, he proffered his handiwork to Katie with outstretched hand. "By the hide! Would you look at that!" the big man said. "The lad's a wizard. Why, Mistress Katie, it's your very likeness. Can I see it, lad?" He snatched it from Gwyn's hand and held the carved block up before the Wood Maid in wonder and admiration, examining its subtle art. "Look, but he's captured you, to be sure, captured you to the very dimple of your cheek!" Gelanor laughed and handed the sculpted piece to Katie. Gwyn nodded and lifted his open palm to her.
"He means you to have it, Katie," Kal said. Gwyn nodded, then, fetching Kal a half-smile beneath a strange glance, turned heel and strode away, heading back along the edge of the ruins.
"Where's he off to now?" Kal said.
"Look more closely, little brother. As I said, it's a rare thing he's showing you."
Kal watched the young Holdsman retreat around the curve of the glence wall. "There's something—something's changed in the way he bears himself." It was Kal's turn to be astonished. "It's his gait. There's a trueness to his step. But how?"
"Ruah's doing. It was Ruah's water," Katie said calmly, looking up from the figurine that she held.
"Aye, to be sure, the water of the Well. Our Wood Maid, she knows. Seen it often enough, haven't you, Mistress Katie? In our band, many's the brother that's suffered a hurt from blade or bow."
"As you know well enough yourself," Katie said.
"That I do. That I do." Gelanor touched his side. "There's days when I still feel a twinge."
Gwyn had broken into an even-paced run past the cottage and around the edge of the glade. Kal followed him with his gaze, paying little attention to the banter of the woman and her bard.
"Last fall, just beyond the edge of the Woods, he had an encounter with Baron Nuath's master huntsman," the woman was saying. "We thought we'd lost him—"
"And would have, too, if it hadn't been for the water Ellyn kept handy. Aye, it was a deep wound." Gelanor jabbed a large finger to the left of his navel. "Like a needle through a ball of wool, his shaft caught me through here . . . . From behind, the craven wretch. He's lucky to have escaped. If he hadn't blown a summons—"
"Ah, Gelanor! I'd say that you had the better measure of luck," Katie said.
"She means, little brother, that it's foolhardy for a lone waldscathe to venture beyond the Woods, for he endangers not only himself but the People."
"Hmm?" Kal looked at them distractedly.
"It was a trap," Katie said.
"Aye, that it was, that it was." Gelanor rocked his head gravely. "And a lesson to all our headstrong young men."
"And to their chief as well, I hope," Katie said.
"Gwyn! Your foot!" The young Holdsman had jogged back to the ruins, and Kal now rushed to him. "What news!" Kal gripped his companion by the shoulders and held him at arm's length. "What news! Re'm ena, but wait until the others see this. Fionna and Thurfar, especially." Kal clapped him on the back. "And your sisters!"
"Show him your foot, Gwyn. Let him see it," Gelanor said, approaching the two Holdsmen with Katie behind him.
Gwyn slipped off his soft leather boot. Kal stooped to have a closer look.
"I saw it myself," the big bard continued. "The misshapen twist to his foot. Then he waded into the pool. Then out he comes, as fine-footed as you see now. Fine-footed and able-bodied, too. It seems to me that even the rest of him is better formed after his dip. Solid and stout as a young oak."
"Aye, indeed. It seems the boy is become the man." Kal stood and thumped Gwyn on the back again, leaving him to bounce on one foot for balance as he pulled on his boot.
Gelanor chuckled at the young man. "Aye, to be sure, he had me hopping, too, just to keep up with him on the way back. And me weighed down by that cask." Gelanor winked.
"So, the water? You have the water?"
"Aye, rest easy, little brother. It's inside the cottage."
"So, we'd best think about leaving, Gwyn and I. Now, while there's still light. Already I'm afraid we've delayed too long. We have to reach my father, if it's not too late. He needs the water."
"As you need rest, Kalaquinn. I see exhaustion in your face and weariness in your burdened step," Katie said.
"There's a fine turn, eh, little brother? Next thing you know I'll be needing to carry you to Ruah's Well, carry you to ease you of your sore-footed lameness. That would be a task. Leave me lame, too. Lameness all around. In the end we'll all need healing water!"
Kal smiled thinly, his shoulders rounded.
"Already the sun sits low." Katie glanced up at the sky. "Stay here at Mousehold and sleep, Kalaquinn. Let your strength be restored. It would be foolish to set forth now with nightfall so close at hand."
"But my father," Kal protested again, weakly.
"Let him be as he is. At this moment, whatever course his illness has taken is not yours to sway."
Kal nodded in resignation. He was suddenly too tired to argue any further and knew better now than to press the point with this woman. A deep weariness crept over him.
"Come, now, let's have supper and then to sleep. Tomorrow, at first light, you can be on your way. Gelanor will provide you with a waldscathe escort to the northern margin of our woods."
"Aye, we'll make sure you come to no harm. From there it'll be but a short jaunt for you to your meeting place at Kingshead."
"Come, little brother." Gelanor's voice broke through
the haze of Kal's sleep, his hand heavy on Kal's shoulder.
The Holdsman groaned and rolled over. He tried to free himself from the bard's grip, but Gelanor shook him again.
"Come, Master Kalaquinn, come. It's time to go."
"Time . . . ? Already? Feels like . . ." Kal yawned and slowly opened his eyes. "It feels like I've just gone to bed." The small room was still dark except for the lantern held by Gelanor.
"I'm not surprised, not surprised at all. You were one tired body. It was all we could do to keep you from drowning in your soup. But it's time now. And I'm not after telling you what you're to do, but if you don't get to your feet, and get to your feet now, there'll be a graver danger to deal with, to be sure."
"What's that?" Kal asked, his head suddenly much clearer. He swung his legs over the side of the cot.
"Half a dozen surly waldscathes, dragged untimely from their dens only to be left twiddling their thumbs outside in the Wood Maid's garden. Twiddling their thumbs and waiting for the newest addition to their ranks." Gelanor's eyes and teeth flashed in the lantern light as he grinned broadly.
"What?" Kal skewed his head and squinted at the big man.
"That's you, little brother, that they'd be waiting for." The waldscathe chief threw a black wolf's pelt onto Kal's lap. "That's for you, my lord Myghternos Hordanu. A fine piece of fur. No spot, no blemish. It belonged to the pack leader. An imposing animal, to be sure. Go on, then. Put it on."
Kal rose to his feet and swung the pelt over his back, then tied its neck fastenings and pulled up the hood to frame his head with the wolf's sinister muzzle.
"Now you're a fearsome sight, a fearsome sight to be sure. A true brother of the wolf pelt. A fit member of our band, I'd say." Gelanor inspected Kal with an approving eye. "Good. Come now. We've time for a quick bite of breakfast, and then we're off."
Kal slid the pelt off his back, and he and Gelanor left the small bedchamber and moved quietly towards the glow of the hearth fire.
"Ah, there you are, Kalaquinn," said Katie, turning from the fire. A lantern hung from the rafters over the dining table, where Gwyn sat eating. "Go on." With a big wooden spoon she pointed to a spot at the table beside the young Holdsman. "There's a bowl of porridge there for you, too. It'll sate you for the morning. And there's a pitcher of cream. Seeds and honey, too. You may help yourself."
"Thank you, Mistress Katie," Kal said, "but there's no time. The men wait outside."
Katie clucked. "Come, come. Not hungry? I can't imagine. Not after nodding off all through supper as you did last night."
"As fine a meal as you've ever laid on, Mistress Katie," Gelanor added.
"Sit down and eat," she commanded. "The men will wait."
Kal looked to Gelanor.
"If I were you, I'd do as the Wood Maid bids. There's some things more fearful than waldscathes." The big man winked, his face again spread wide in a grin.
Kal obeyed, lowering himself to the bench in front of a steaming bowl. He reached for the cream.
"You, too. I've set out a bowl for you as well."
"But Mistress Katie, I've been fed"—Gelanor patted his stomach—"and fed well, by Ellyn this morning, as you can see."
"Never mind. You must give our guests encouragement. Go on. Sit down and eat."
"There are some things more fearful than waldscathes," Kal said, eyebrows raised over the lifted pitcher.
"Well spoken, little brother, well spoken. You're quick to learn. No doubt it's a talent that will stand you in good stead," said Gelanor as he took his own seat across from the two Holdsmen.
In silence, they tucked into their breakfasts, and in but a few moments spoons rattled in empty bowls.
"Who'd have thought that even porridge could be made to taste so good?" said Gelanor as he rose from the table. "Let me tell you. As a cook, the Wood Maid, she takes second place to no one."
"You'll get no arguments from me, Gelanor. Nor from Gwyn, eh, Gwyn?" Kal said.
"Poor Ellyn, poor Ellyn . . . It's a good thing for you that she's not within earshot of such shameless flattery, else you'd be growing quickly thinner in the next while." Katie cocked an eye at the big man.
"Bah!" The big man feigned gruffness and cleaned his whiskers with the back of a hand.
"My thanks to you again, Mistress Katie, for your kind and gracious hospitality," Kal said, rising from the bench as Gelanor handed him the small wooden cask of Ruah's healing water.
Kal and Gwyn turned to the door to gather their weapons as Katie doled out provisions for the journey, listing the items as she tucked each away in their night pouches: honeyed seedcakes wrapped in cloth; nuts, soaked and roasted; and dried fruits, slices of apple and pear, plums, and berries that had been gathered in the woods. The filled satchels were slung over their shoulders beside the other tack of travel, and over all the wolf pelts were then donned. The men left the cottage, and Katie followed them through the door. Outside, a faint suggestion of light had begun to seep through the shadows.
"Ho there, Bildvek! Where have you gone to now? You and the rest of my skulking minions?" Gelanor called.
"Here, Gelanor. Marking time and more than ready to be off." From out of the shelter of Katie's bower stepped a tall, well-muscled man, his features dark and vague under the wolf's-head cowl. Five other waldscathes emerged from the verdure behind him, their likeness to wolf-men so uncanny in the early glimmer of dawn that Kal stiffened despite himself.
"Aye, Master Kalaquinn, they're a fretful sight but now your stout companions," said Katie. "Be assured that you'll come to no harm while your journey lies in these Woods of Tircoil." She looked to Gwyn and held out her hand in a gesture of farewell. "Dear Gwyn. May you prosper in Ruah's keeping." Gwyn bent to kiss her extended hand.
Turning to Kal, she looked up into his face and stood silently staring at him. Kal became aware of the waldscathes shuffling nearby in the grey dawn. Eventually, Katie placed a hand on Kal's chest and broke the quiet. "It has been an honour, an honour and a blessing, Myghternos Anadem. May Ruah guide your steps and Wuldor keep you ever in his smiling eye."
"My deepest thanks again to you, Wood Maid, friend and protector. I shall never forget your kindness." Kal took her hand in his own and kissed it as he bowed. "Briacoil. Until we meet again," he said.
In the ghostly light of dawn, they departed with their escort, who glided silent and sure-footed into the forest along paths that twisted and turned over hill and dale. For the most part, the group walked single file in a somber silence, with Gelanor and three waldscathes leading the way for Kal and Gwyn, the others following behind.
So much had happened in the space of two days. Kal was absorbed in thought. His mind wandered, flitting about from image to image—the grey-timbered cottage and its grey keeper, the glencelike tree surrounded by a lake, a white deer, blue flowers reflected in the still water of a well, Gwyn's sound foot, a long walk through mysterious woods, as well as the mysteries of the Woods themselves and the fearsome creatures living there. And here, those very creatures strode before and after him. He looked at the pelted figures in front of him, then at Gwyn beneath his own grey-brown wolf fur. He chuckled to himself as he reached up and adjusted the black muzzle on his own head and shifted the small wooden cask on its strap.
He should be fretting about his father. He should be, but he found himself unable to worry. The even, measured words spoken to him in the dream returned to him now, resounding in his heart, chasing away the spectres of anxious fear. Katie had said as much, too—that there was nothing to be done about past, or even future; one could do nothing but attend to the present, to the task at hand as best as one could. She had said many things to him. And Myghternos Anadem; she had called him Myghternos Anadem twice. Myghternos Anadem . . . It was a title, that much was clear, but it was one unfamiliar to him, and one he had only heard once before, in his own voice, sung in his Lay—
"There you go!" Gelanor stopped walking and leaned heavily on his bowstaff. He tipped his head. "Two
landlocked Holdsmen that you are, I'd wager that you've neither of you seen the ocean before."
Kal, torn from his reverie, looked up at the big man ahead of him and then to the surrounding land. The morning had worn on. Its lingering dampness and shadows had been dispelled, replaced now by the sharp scent of salt-laden breezes. They had come to a rocky outcrop above a narrow bay. Its wind-tossed waves glistened bright in the sun on waters that stretched far into the distance, crowded by sloping forests on either side.
"The ocean?" Kal said.
"Aye, little brother. That it is. The Firth of Tircoil. You're not far from your meeting place, not far at all. Just up the Firth a few miles is Kingshead." Squinting, Gelanor pointed to the far horizon up the bay. "If you look hard, you can make it out, a headland that shelters your cove."
"And that would be the Black Cape," Kal said, gesturing to the vague mass of shoreline that loomed across from them in the near distance.
"To be sure. And a reassuring sight it is, isn't it? The heart of the Woods of Tircoil and home to the People."
"Aye, Gelanor. It's not often we're this far outside the Cape," one of the waldscathes said, a frown creasing his young face. "Are you certain it's still safe?"
"Come! Don't fret, man, don't fret," Bildvek chided, looking to his chief. "We may be off the Cape, but not out of the Woods yet."
"That stone building? Is that someone's home?" Kal had stepped away and was peering down a slope into the trees at their back.
"Was someone's home," Bildvek corrected. "It's abandoned now. It was abandoned by the march-dwellers."
"March-dwellers?"
"Them that lived on the edges of the forest. Couldn't abide its spread," explained the waldscathe.
"And we can't abide here, either. Time to move on," Gelanor commanded.
Darkling Fields of Arvon Page 24