The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "Is that why the door opened?" Robby asked reluctantly. There was more to be learned, he feared, than he wanted to know. "Is that why the bell rang?"

  "I do not know," Ashlord said, "for I have never heard of the children of such unions having any of the gifts of their forebears until they are old in years. And only the Firstborn of the Faerekind, those from when the world was newly made, are said to have the gift of opening all things closed and locked. Yet I believe you to be Faere Blessed, and so are doubly touched by those folk. Indeed, I now know that two Elifaen sisters visited you when you were a child. Twins, they were, one with the aspect of red and black and one with the aspect of white and green. I believe they were summoned to come to you and to debate your life."

  "To what?"

  "The one in black came as a representative of what follows when death comes. The one in white came to represent what follows when life comes. They debated over you. Should Death take you? Or should Life retain you? It is an ancient practice for the descendants of the Faerekind to represent the gods to Mortals, and to judge when called upon by their kin. Your mother, being kin to both races, most certainly summoned them, and they came for her sake. They cured you of your illness, but something else happened, I know not what, and they chose to bestow their blessing upon you. Perhaps they gave you their blessing in order to save you from death, or perhaps it was for some other reason entirely."

  "How did you know about that?"

  "I told him," Sheila spoke up. Seeing the look on Robby's face, she continued, somewhat defensively. "Well, everyone talks about how queer your mother's family is. A mixed race family from the ancient western lands. And how she is estranged—is that the right word?—estranged from most of her kin. Anyway, Frizella Bosk told me that when you were little you got very sick and that Faere Folk came to see you. She said that she saw it with her own eyes, through a crack in the door, as she was there, too. Her own efforts to help you had failed, she said. And she told me how your mother somehow summoned, through prayer or something, these Faerekind ladies. She said she never told anybody and made me promise not to tell. It's just that, well, she thought I should know. And I thought Ashlord should know."

  Sheila looked genuinely embarrassed, but Robby wasn't sure why. Robby, for his part, kept shaking his head, looking back and forth from Ashlord to Sheila.

  "Ought to know? Why?" he asked at last. "Why should it be that my own mother wouldn't tell me? And why, if it was such a secret, would Billy Bosk's mum tell you? And if you promised, why did you tell him?" Robby jabbed a finger at Ashlord, still looking at Sheila.

  "Frizella had her own reasons for telling me," Sheila replied, "and I only told Ashlord just last night because of what happened to you here."

  "And the reason your parents did not tell you is easy enough to guess," Ashlord picked up. "The Elifaen still have many enemies, and they are yet mistrusted by Men. Their numbers are in decline, and those who live apart from their own kind and in the midst of Men expect little help or protection from them. Your parents wanted only to protect you from the prejudice of others, I'm sure, and perhaps from other things. They know they cannot keep this from you forever. Perhaps they hope to tell you when you turn twenty-nine; only they can say. But it is important that you keep your knowledge to yourself."

  "Why?"

  "Because any sudden reaction or slip of the tongue may alert the spies and agents of the enemy." Ashlord stood up just as Certina flew out of the sky and landed on his shoulder. "Who knows the danger to you, but why take unnecessary chances? Your secret is safe with Sheila and with me, but I'm afraid we were not the only ones who heard the Great Bell. Word may eventually reach the traitor of Tulith Attis that the Iron Door has been opened."

  "Why should that matter? Surely he is dead by now, as are all else who might care."

  Ashlord shook his head. Certina flapped her wings and twisted her head sideways. He put his hand on Robby's shoulder.

  "You do have much to learn," he said kindly. "The Elifaen do not die, unless by violence, of melancholia, or, in some cases, of grief. Chances are, the traitor still lives. And who knows what power he may have gained by now? Certainly, the knowledge that the Door was set as a trap by Lord Heneil, will rekindle suspicions against all Elifaen. There are only a few who still remain from those days, and fewer still who were here, for nearly all were slaughtered in battle. The list of suspects grows shorter with this knowledge, and there are many, Faere and Men alike, who still yearn to settle that score."

  Ashlord spoke these last words with frightening sincerity. Suddenly, he bent his head and Certina whirred softly in his ear. Ashlord nodded. Certina took off into the air and disappeared from sight.

  "So Elifaen and Faerekind are one and the same people?" Robby asked.

  "Not precisely, though the terms are sometimes used loosely. The original Faerekind who retained their wings have all but gone away from the earth. Those of their kind who have remained, who as a result were stripped of their wings for disobedience, are called Elifaen, the Fallen Ones or Fallen Children, as are their descendants. You have much to learn. So the only way to buy time," Ashlord continued as he walked toward the ramparts where Sheila stood, "is to tell no one about your adventure here. Let any who heard the Bell guess at its meaning. Meanwhile, I believe we have other things to worry about."

  Robby followed Ashlord. All while they talked, the sun grew brighter through the cloudy sky and the breeze grew stronger, melting the mists and blowing them away. Now, looking southward, Robby could see lakes of water from the base of the hill to the distant line of gray that marked the north ridge of Barley. He could barely make out the thin muddy strip that was the road, and it disappeared completely under standing water in many places.

  "Can it be that we have company?" Ashlord said. "What do you make of that, Sheila?" He and Sheila were looking at the same distant point, but Robby could not see what drew their attention.

  "A strange creature," Sheila said at last. "Two legs and four arms."

  Robby squinted and at last saw some movement on the watery plain from the direction of Oldgate. The three gazed at the bizarre sight, none of them able to tell what it was, only that it was nearing, light glinting from the splashing water, moving roughly along where the roadway should be. Whatever it was, it did not seem to be making fast progress. Robby looked at Sheila who shrugged back at him. He was growing nervous, not desiring any more encounters with strange beings, but Ashlord smiled and pulled out his pipe from his pocket. Shaking his head and chuckling softly, he packed the bowl and lit it by holding an odd crystal over it which seemed to focus sunlight intensely on the tobacco. After drawing it to life, puffing out great clouds of scented smoke, he spoke.

  "Do you not recognize them?"

  At that moment, Robby and Sheila both understood what they were seeing. A very large man was wading and splashing toward them along the muddy road. He was carrying on his shoulders a much smaller man.

  "Ibin and Billy!" Robby exclaimed, grinning. "It can be none else."

  "It has to be," Sheila agreed. "But what are they doing out here?"

  "Coming to find their lost friend would be my guess," Ashlord said.

  While they looked on, Ibin trudged, waded, and splashed nearer. Perched on his shoulders, the much smaller Billy Bosk tried to keep his balance by clinging to Ibin's head or by waving his arms about wildly when Ibin stumbled a bit. They disappeared between the two barrows for a few moments, and, when they emerged, it was apparent they were having a very rough time of it, for they were covered with mud from head to toe. Billy, who would seem to have had a high and dry ride, was just as caked and soaking as Ibin. At last, they made it to the fork in the road, just beneath the wall.

  "Stand back out of sight, please," Ashlord said to Sheila and Robby as he stepped up onto the wall. With staff in hand, Ashlord called down to the two newcomers.

  "What business have you with Tulith Attis?" he cried out threateningly, the breeze tossing his long black hair about
wildly and bending his black beard into a hook.

  "Put me down," Billy said to Ibin. "Put me down on that rock thar!"

  Ibin deposited Billy on a rock that protruded from the water, making him as tall as Ibin.

  "Who're ye to ask?" Billy crossed his arms and cocked his head back.

  "I am the keeper of this place, and you may soon be trespassing upon the King's ground."

  "Ah, well, then, Mr. Keeper of Haven Hill," Billy retorted. "I advise ye to tell us whar we can find the house belongin' to Ashlord, for our business is thar."

  "And if I do not?"

  "We will find our way to him with er without yer directions, but the memory of me kith is long, an' insults not soon forgotten, ol' feller!"

  "Ah, you threaten me! I tremble with fear! My knees quake with terror! I am squashed with remorse at my hasty words! I plea for mercy! Indeed, I surrender! The way to Ashlord's house is along the right-hand path from where you stand. Keep to the right turnings and forks for half a league and you cannot miss his dwelling. But be warned: Tread lightly on this ground and mark your footings well, for the way is slippery, and Ashlord does not generally care for unexpected visitors."

  "Care er not, he'll have 'em," Billy replied. Turning to Ibin, he said, "Well, it's no more trudgin' through mud an' muck anyways."

  "That'sfine, that's, that'sfinewithme, Billy," Ibin replied grinning. Billy knew that it would be equally fine with Ibin if they had a hundred leagues of mud-trudging, but nodded and smiled back at him. Turning back to the summit, Billy was just about to call to the man who had challenged them, but he was gone.

  "Hullo!" he cried. "Hullo up thar, Mr. Keeper! Well, don't that beat all!"

  Turning away from the wall, Ashlord hurried past Robby.

  "Sheila, stay and see if they were followed while Robby and I return," he said. "Keep out of sight, though."

  Sheila nodded and moved farther off along the wall where some saplings were taking hold. There she sat under their branches with her back against a stone, her brown cloak pulled about her, and her bow across her knees. As Robby and Ashlord descended the steps, Robby looked back and could barely make her out, even at this close distance. Quickly they passed through the gate and out along the ridge of the hill, making their way back to the cottage. Several times, they frightened packs of deer and flocks of birds, but just as the deer started or the birds flapped their wings to escape, Ashlord would mumble something, and they would immediately calm down. In that manner, the pair strode through herds of deer and flocks of all manner of birds in a strange silence, all the while the creatures' eyes fixed upon them as they went by.

  "Why didn't you want Billy and Ibin to see me?" Robby finally ventured, uneasy at the huge buck staring at him from not six feet away as they passed.

  "Only for fear that other eyes might be watching," Ashlord said matter-of-factly. "Your friends may be true and trustworthy, but if they had seen you there, so may have others watching from the open plain."

  "My friends are the best that one can have. Who else do you mean? Who would be watching?"

  Ashlord shrugged as he stepped over a stone in the path. "Who knows? Perhaps no one. But I have felt the eyes of others upon this place of late. And too much has happened in the last few days, too many threads leading up to your presence here, for me to take matters lightly." He suddenly turned and looked at Robby. "I'm not convinced that your coming here was a mere accident. If so, it is the kind of accident that may stir the hornets' nest. Let us make sure we do not get stung before we are ready to swat the hornets, shall we?"

  Robby shook his head.

  "Can't you talk straight?" he grumbled as he followed Ashlord on. "All this stuff is too much. Ancient armies. Traitors. Faere blessings and all. I only came to deliver some letters. What do all your plots and plans have to do with me? What are you so afraid of?"

  Ashlord stopped again and turned to face Robby. The look on Ashlord's face was almost pained, yet there was a touch of pity in his eyes as he leaned on his staff and gazed at the youngster.

  "What am I afraid of?" Ashlord repeated.

  "Well," Robby suddenly felt a little peevish, "yeah."

  "How can I tell you, who have had so little training in the ways of this world?" Ashlord said. "Try to imagine all of the dark dreams you have ever had, all of the black tales you have ever heard, and the terrible storms you have seen cross this land. Imagine them all rolled into one, joined together by a single dark hand, and unleashed upon all the inhabitants of the earth. That is what is happening, dear boy. It is to read the signs of the coming of those things that I keep watch on this place. It is possible to prepare for, maybe even to prevent in some part. Thrice has the power of darkness assailed the world. But those times were but a test. Thrice before were the creatures who filled the lands with terror driven away. Each time they returned more powerful than before. And there is one who nurtures them, learns from their defeats, and readies them for their next assault. Many there are who would see those days come again on the earth, and welcome them, even."

  "Who? Who would want such things?"

  "Some who would gain from it. Others with revenge in their hearts. Agents all, wittingly or unwittingly, of shadow."

  "Why here? What is so important about this place? And why now?"

  "This place is not important, at least the Enemy thinks it so unimportant as to let it pass his notice. At least until recently. His watch upon this place has been unsteady, distracted by the many other happenings of the world, and by his many intrigues. I have established myself here to prevent his serious notice of it until the time is come. And to delve into other matters. Why now? It is because the time has come. You have brought the time to bear by ringing the Bell and awakening the spirits." Ashlord said sternly. "Soon all the lands will hear of it. Though many will wonder what to make of it, the agents of the Enemy will know it is time to take action."

  "What enemy? Who? And why? What difference have I made? It was all an accident, anyway."

  "Are you an accident? No. You are the difference. Don't you understand? Someone has awakened the guardians of Tulith Attis. Only someone who has the power to open the Iron Door can do that. And that would only be a Faerekind, one of the Ancient Ones, a Firstborn. Have you not been listening? Your action will draw the enemy's attention this way, and you are the one he will now seek out. Heneil did not devise the Iron Door and the Great Bell thinking that a Man would be traitor of this place. Think of the effort it took to cast the Bell, to hang it, and to erect the means of ringing it. Think of the wealth and labor spent to do it, and the key, the Iron Door, with its own incantations to keep it locked. The threat of a mere mortal could never provoke such fear, nor prompt such effort. Heneil knew that if any could overthrow Tulith Attis, it would only be one of his own kind, an Elifaen, a Firstborn of the Faerekind. You have proven, by the ringing of the Bell, that Heneil's fears were not idle, that the legend of the enchanted Bell is true. All the world will now know. Men did not betray Tulith Attis. An Elifaen did. One who must have known about Heneil's trap and found another way to treachery. If the traitor is still in the world, who do you think he serves? What am I afraid of? There is too much to tell and not enough time to teach you!"

  Ashlord turned and hurried off. Robby hesitated then trotted to catch up.

  "What do you plan on doing?"

  "Doing?"

  "Yes," Robby grabbed his sleeve and stopped him again. "I mean. What should I do?"

  Ashlord smiled and shook his head.

  "Be patient with an old man, for one," he said. "Give him time to think, and trust that he will try his best to guide you. Let me assure you that you are not alone. I am not the only one with eyes upon the world. If the Enemy thinks his opponents are on the move, he is not far wrong. Though unspoken and unknown by most, there are a few of us who are readying ourselves for him. And He knows this."

  "He who? Who is the enemy?" Robby asked. "The Dragon People? Their king?"

  "Yes, and their ki
ng. But also others. And one, especially, who guides much evil doings, I fear, and who will soon strive to usurp their king, and all kings, for that matter," Ashlord said impatiently. "You do not know of the one I speak of. I will not yet say his name to you. As I said before, you have much to learn. But at the moment, we must hurry, or else my welcome to your friends will be undone."

  Ashlord moved on again and Robby, as confused as ever, followed.

  Chapter 6

  Reunions and Revelations

  Day 7

  238 Days Remaining

  "That's gotta be the place!" Billy gasped, bending to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Just behind him, big Ibin climbed the steep path, and at Billy's exclamation, he stopped to look, too. Farther up the hill was a low stone wall, and beyond that could be seen the top of a thatched roof with a smoking chimney.

  "Lo, what a climb!" Billy complained. "If this here Ashlord's anything, he must be part goat to climb this."

  "YeahIwishIwasagoatrightnow. Thisis, thisis, thisisverysteep, Billy," Ibin agreed.

  Ibin was most interested in two things: eating and tagging along with Billy Bosk. It became apparent from Ibin's youngest days that he was different, slower than most, touched, as it were. He struggled in school for the first year or two, but Mr. Broadweed, the schoolmaster, pretty much gave up on him after that. Ibin learned his letters and was good at numbers, but in an odd, unpredictable sort of way. And while he had a gift for songs and for remembering every bit of poetry he ever heard, nearly everything else was beyond his comprehension. By the time he was nine, he simply came to school out of habit, for he seemed to learn nothing. Though his learning came to a halt, his frame got taller and broader as time passed. By the time he was a young teenager, he was already a foot taller than most other boys his age, and nearly twice their weight. He was tolerated by the other children, but especially well liked by the little ones who enjoyed his gentle nature and his strength. During play breaks, Ibin could often be found crawling all over with small children, several climbing him like a tree while he swung others who clung onto his oak-like arms, and all, including Ibin, screaming with laughter and delight. Although Ibin participated very little in the lessons, his eyes twinkled with enthusiastic attention to everything that was said, to all the readings-aloud of the other children, and to everything else that went on, sitting on the edge of his bench and leaning forward in rapt anticipation of whatever might happen next. After a few years, Mr. Broadweed thought Ibin's presence, towering at the back of the schoolroom, had a much needed calming influence on his own disposition. He would carry firewood and do other chores for the schoolmaster without tire and always behaved respectfully and with uncanny good manners, most unlike some of the other children. Especially unlike Billy Bosk, the terror of the school, and one of the chief reasons Mr. Broadweed needed Ibin's calming influence.