The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "I'm just unsure of things, unsure of myself," he thought aloud. "Sometimes things seem so false, as if there is ever something more behind the covering, like one of those festival acts, a pretending, yet filled with ironies. Sheila is like a stranger to me, yet I have never before seen her so often or been so near her day after day. Daddy doesn't press me about anything, but I sometimes wish he would. Just too busy right now, I guess. Mother telling me to just be patient and lay low. Sounds a lot like Ashlord. Wonder what ever happened to him?"

  He sighed and puffed.

  "Never get to see Billy for more than a moment. No telling what he's been hearing."

  Suddenly he thought about his cousin, Ullin.

  "What would Ullin suggest? What would he say to all of this?"

  He realized immediately that he did not know Ullin well enough to guess, yet there was something about the Kingsman that, once he had thought of him, persisted in standing out as some kind of example. Ullin seemed like the sort of man able to handle most anything that came along. He had to, given his line of work.

  "He would tell me to prepare myself," Robby realized aloud. "He would tell me to get myself ready should something else happen. Wasn't Ashlord afraid of something else happening? Happening to me? Didn't he tell me to be wary, to be watchful and careful? So Ullin would take that to mean that something else very well might happen. He would tell me to get ready in case something did happen. In case, for instance, whoever Ashlord is worried about finds me out and means me no good."

  Suddenly he felt ridiculous, as if having missed the obvious for so long, and he stood up, almost in a panic.

  "Yes! I must be prepared to protect myself, if need be. I need to study and learn more about those things Ashlord mentioned. I've put on a stone at least since the flood. All fat, too. I bet I couldn't run home from here without bustin' a gut if my life depended on it. I bet I couldn't pick Sheila up and carry her to safety if need be. And, I know I can't fight. Don't know how. I need to learn!"

  He tamped out his pipe on the sole of his boot and started off for home. He had gone only a few strides down the steep path when he stopped.

  "But how?" he pondered. "How does one go about learning to fight except by being a rogue or by being a soldier or such? I can't exactly go about picking fights, can I? And even if I did, I'm not apt to survive long enough to learn. Up to now my record at winning fights isn't exactly one to brag about. I could ask Billy to help, but I'm not sure he knows much more than I do, though I dare say he's the scrappiest little guy I've ever known."

  He took a few more steps in the gathering dim of evening and continued to muse, tentatively deciding to talk to Billy. He descended the hill through the trees, many still green with leaves in spite of the cooler days and nights, and now hovering like thick black clouds under the moonlit sky. At a bend in the path, he caught a glimpse of yellow light below, down on the road, and he immediately slowed his descent. Through the trees he saw another yellow light and realized someone was traveling along the road with lanterns. Easing farther down the path, careful of his step, he halted just behind a large tree at the last bend before the path came out onto the lane. Moving around the tree and crouching low in the brush beside it, he watched the approach of the mysterious lights, which he now saw were held up on poles. His heart began to thump at the sound of hooves and many footfalls in rhythm, and, as they passed beneath him, he saw the lanterns were carried by men on horseback, in gray buttoned jackets and black leather helmets, and that forty or fifty more soldiers followed four abreast, some of them also carrying lanterns. Behind them came a wagon, drawn by two magnificent oxen, pale gray with broadly spaced horns. The wagon itself had four great wheels, was painted yellow and green, and had many windows, though they were curtained. The driver sat on a bench high up on the front, and along beside him was an archer with a notched arrow. On the back of the wagon, two more archers were likewise poised and ready. The vehicle rolled along much more quietly than Robby imagined possible. In fact, the whole procession was most uncanny and quiet for its size. Not a word was spoken, and not a single sound of metal against metal did he hear, though he could see that their armaments, swords and shields, bows and lances, were prodigious.

  Following the wagon was another group of soldiers and another wagon, smaller than the first with a curved roof and pulled by a single very large horse. Its pale blue curtains were drawn, lit from within, and Robby heard the gentle tinkling of a harp. As he looked, a hand pulled back the curtain, and a face peered out. It was the face of a lady. The light coming from behind made her yellow hair glow, and he caught the glint of a ring on her finger and another glint off the band around her head that held her hair back. Robby felt as if she was looking straight at him, and though he could not see her eyes, he was certain those eyes were fixed upon the spot where he crouched. A conflict of emotions swept through him, and he did not know whether he should run away or step forward. But neither was possible, as his legs, indeed his whole being, seemed locked by her momentary gaze. The curtain closed, the spell was broken, and he exhaled. The wagon continued on, followed by more soldiers and more riders bearing lanterns. It was not until they were turning the bend on down toward Passdale that Robby stepped out from his hiding place and onto the roadway. He waited until they were out of sight, then he followed, wondering who they were and why they were going to Passdale. He shoved his hands into his pockets and realized that he had dropped his pipe along the way, probably back in the bushes, and, annoyed at himself, he went back to look for it. After feeling around for it for a few minutes, he decided it was hopeless just as he touched something smooth under the leaves.

  "Oh there you are!" he said, brushing off the pipe and shoving it back into his pocket where it belonged. As he turned to go, he heard a noise and instinctively froze, peering toward the road. The starlight was bright enough though the overhanging trees to illuminate a few patches of the road, and Robby thought he saw a great shadow moving along it. Straining to see, he heard the soft clop of unshod hooves and his heart beat a great thump when he saw the shadow again. This time he could not mistake the shape of rider and mount moving steadily along, and such a strange shadow it was! The rider was tall and erect in the saddle and completely black, save for white flowing hair, ghostly in the dim light. As he came up even with Robby, and entered another patch of starlit road, he saw the unmistakable hilt of a sword jutting up over the back of the rider's shoulder. Yet the beast that bore the rider was the strangest that Robby had ever seen. Like a huge deer, it was, with antlers fanning out wide and high, with scores of points. Never had Robby imagined that a deer could look so ferocious, and the uncanny sight made him tremble.

  Then the rider stopped, just where the lady had opened the curtain, and, like the previous passerby, he looked in Robby's direction. The deer, if that is what it was, snorted. In this light, Robby could see the rider's face, pale and grim, with no sign of beard or whiskers, long thin white hair swirling in the breeze. He drew his sword from over his shoulder and laid it crossways in front of him.

  "Come out there!" he called in a strong voice. "Or I will come bring you out!"

  Robby slowly moved down out of the trees and onto the edge of the road.

  "Closer! You are alone."

  It was a statement, but Robby nodded.

  "I, um, I dropped my pipe and was looking for it," he said pointing back into the woods.

  "You don't have the looks of a spy," the rider said. "And clearly not a highwayman."

  "No."

  "You saw the train pass by."

  "Who could miss it?"

  "Aye, none but the blind and deaf."

  The rider slid his sword back into its scabbard and lightly dismounted. He was actually not much taller than Robby, and his cloak swirled back as he stepped forward, revealing a glistening coat of mail bound with a jeweled belt. Now that he was closer, Robby could see pale blue eyes and a face that could be twenty or two hundred and twenty, and a small, childlike nose above thi
n lips and a sharp chin. His bare brow was high over his white eyebrows, and his face had a stern weariness about it.

  "Forgive my caution," he said, "but it is my duty to ride behind the train. You are from nearby? I see you have no travel bags."

  "I am from Passdale, just ahead of you there, and on my way back home after an evening stroll along the hills."

  "Then let us walk on together. I am Thurdun, of the House of Fairlinden. Come, I must not get too far behind the others."

  "I am Robigor," Robby held out his hand, and the stranger took it. "But most call me Robby."

  "Robby. Aye."

  They turned down the road, the strange beast following a few paces behind. Robby noticed there were no reins or bridle.

  "I have never seen such an animal as that," Robby said. "Is it a deer? He's as big as a horse."

  "I hold with the old ways," said Thurdun. "His name is Celefar. A buckmarl, they are called. They are not often seen in these lands, I expect."

  "Then you are one of the Elifaen, one of the Faere People."

  "Aye."

  "But that train that passed. Were those soldiers your people, too?"

  "Aye. Most are Men, but a few of my kind."

  "And I saw a lady. At the window of the latter coach. Looking out."

  "Aye?" Thurdun looked at Robby. "Then she most likely saw you, too."

  "I felt so. Who is she?"

  "A great lady from my realm."

  "Oh. Where do you come from? And where are you going to?"

  "We travel from Vanara on our way to Glareth."

  "Glareth by the Sea," said Robby. "And you come from Vanara? I have certainly heard of that place. In the far west? As far as Duinnor?"

  "A little more west and south of Duinnor Realm."

  "You have come a long way, then."

  "Aye. Let us pick up our pace a bit."

  "You go to Glareth on business? To visit relatives?"

  "You may not be a spy, but you are as inquisitive as one."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  "Aye, our business is to go a-visiting."

  "To the sea?"

  "Aye."

  "We don't get too many visitors in Passdale. Not from far-off places, anyway," Robby said as they saw again the trailing lights of the train ahead.

  "We will not stop in Passdale," Thurdun said bluntly, "nor tarry long on this side of Lake Halgaeth."

  "Oh," Robby said. "In that case, my mother will be greatly disappointed, I'm sure. It isn't often that some of her kind pass through."

  Thurdun looked askance at Robby.

  "You are Elifaen?"

  "No. I mean, yes. Well, partly. My mother is."

  "Your mother? Then you are, too. Or will be if you do not yet have the scars. Of what House are you?"

  "Ribbon."

  "No, I mean of what Faere House?"

  "I don't know. It is never spoken."

  "Never spoken? That is a curse, surely, and a shame. Why might that be?"

  "I don't know," Robby shrugged. "I think to fit in better around here. Maybe."

  "Hrmph! But I am not too surprised. Our people are mistrusted in many parts."

  Robby felt awkward as Thurdun gave him a disappointed glance.

  "We know that some of our kind live in the Eastlands. That is why we came this way."

  "Oh?"

  "Aye. The easier way, the northern river passages through Duinnor are more or less barred to our people."

  "I did not know that," Robby said.

  "Do you know the place called Tulith Attis?"

  Thurdun slowed the pace a little, keeping them a fair distance behind the last soldiers of the train.

  "That place is near here," Robby answered.

  "Aye."

  "Do you go that way?"

  "No, I thought we were near there, though the land has changed since the last time I came this way. I confess I have a strange longing to see that place again. And a dread to see the place where Heneil and Lyrium, his wife, lived and fought and died. But we go north, to the lake. Tell me. Have you ever seen it?"

  Robby felt a twinge in his side where a wolf-scar ran.

  "Tulith Attis? I have been there, yes," he said. "It is much in ruins, though the bridge still stands. Or it did when I was there not long ago."

  "Hm. By chance do you know Collandoth, the Watcher, who is said to live near there?"

  "The Watcher? Oh, Collandoth! You mean Ashlord."

  "Aye, that is what Men call him."

  "Yes, I know him. Do you?"

  "Aye. It was he who prepared this way for us."

  "Did he? You should stop and see him!"

  "He is to meet us at the boats at Halgaeth Lake."

  "He is?"

  "Aye. Does that surprise you?"

  "Why, no, not exactly," Robby replied. "Does he meet you in order to guide you to Glareth?"

  "I think not. Only to speak with us, I think. Or so his messenger implied."

  "His messenger?"

  "Aye."

  "A little bird, I take it."

  "Do you make a joke?" Thurdun asked.

  "No, I mean, it was a little owl, I warrant, by the name of Certina."

  Thurdun gave Robby what might pass for a smile in better light.

  "I believe you know Collandoth better than you let on."

  "We're friends."

  "Friends?"

  "Well, he helped me out of a sort of jam a while back."

  "Jam? You fell into a vat?"

  "No, not that kind of jam. A problem. He helped me with a problem I had."

  "Did he? Well, that is his way. A solver of problems and riddles."

  "Sure," Robby said, trying to be nonchalant. "He's not a bad sort, you know. Once you get to know him, I mean."

  Thurdun chuckled.

  "I don't think anyone will ever truly know Collandoth!"

  "Well, he is a private sort of fellow, I'll give you that."

  "Aye and aye to that!"

  "I wish I could come with you to the lake," Robby burst out impulsively.

  "Why?"

  "Oh, it's been years since I've been there. I'd love to see the boats. And to see Ashlord, too. It's been nearly six weeks since I last saw him. Oh, and to see the lake now that the wall has fallen."

  For the second time, Thurdun stopped dead in his tracks, but this time he shot out his hand and caught Robby by the arm.

  "What did you say about the wall? Do you speak of Heneil's Wall?"

  "Why, yes," Robby stammered. Thurdun's grip was tight but loosened when Robby put his hand on Thurdun's. Meanwhile, for that brief moment, the look on Thurdun's face was either excitement or terror—Robby could not decide which.

  "It has fallen?"

  "Yes. The River Saerdulin runs again in its ancient course. The Bentwide is drying up to a little stream."

  "When?"

  "Since the storms and rains, about six weeks ago."

  "Hm. Six weeks ago?" Thurdun turned away, thinking. "Six weeks, upon the full moon?"

  "Yes, it was," Robby replied.

  "The River Saerdulin." Thurdun shook his head. "Surely Collandoth knew."

  "No, I don't think so," Robby said, not quite following the concern of Thurdun. "I mean, I don't think Ashlord knew ahead of time that the floods would come and wash away the wall."

  "Don't be silly!" Thurdun shook his head at Robby. "Why do you think he has stayed at Tulith Attis all these years? He is the Watcher of Things, the Knower of Change. He surely knew something of the sort would happen. Maybe he did not know just when, or even precisely what would happen. He is a Watcher, and Watchers know what it is they watch for when it happens. And I tell you this: Heneil built his wall well, just as the bridge and Tulith Attis itself. Nothing built by his hand falls, save by treachery or design. The wall was meant to yield, and the river meant to find its old course. Such things that are unclear to us are studied by Collandoth. Six weeks ago. The night of the great storm in the sky when we were upon the open Plains of Bletharn."


  Thurdun walked again and Robby strode alongside, listening.

  "We had already made camp for the night. The lady I escort felt, as I did, a great thunder in the ground, and it roused us from our sleep, she in her wagon and I in my tent. All others slept, but we woke with fear and dread upon us. The rain fell hard, and the wind tore at my tent, but when the second great rumble came, I was on my feet with sword in hand and flew out into the night. In the east, I saw a great storm, bruising the horizon with its twisting flashes. Those of our company stirred from sleep, and our mounts were nervous. My lady appeared, frightened as I was, bearing her sword, and at the third rumble, she flew to my side, and we stood together against any enemies that might come. Awakened by the uncanny and loud rumble, our comrades raced to join us, and the alarm went through our camp. My lady and I had our eyes fixed upon the fire-flashing sky in the east, and we felt a terrible urge to run toward the storm and into it! I do not know how I resisted, but I did not answer the call. The rest of our party gathered around us, likewise with swords and lances in hand, with equal alarm. They ran to us and encircled us against whatever may come amidst the noise and blinding crash and wind. As if within a dream, unable to speak, we stood there drenched, watching the eastern heavens burn with lightning, red upon the horizon. For a long while, we trembled, cold and wet, and with fear in our hearts."

  Thurdun glanced at Robby.

  "Finally, shaking myself, I cried out an alarm and blew my horn, recalling all of the outlying sentries to take up places for our defense. We kept vigil the entire night. But only the wind and the rain entered our camp."