The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  The doorbell jangled Mirabella from her musings. But it was only Sheila returning from her errands.

  • • •

  At the livery stable, Robby saddled a rented horse while Ashlord's was brought out for him.

  "Isn't that Ullin's horse, Anerath?" Robby asked Ashlord as they mounted.

  "Indeed, this is Anerath! On loan to me, you might say, until Ullin needs him again," Ashlord reined around. "Let us make good time, for the day is getting late."

  Robby coaxed his mount, an older mare, to follow along behind Ashlord and Anerath. As if inspired by the stallion ahead, the mare made a better pace than Robby thought she could, and soon they were leaving Passdale, following the river road northward in the direction Thurdun's company had gone. Robby had not been this way in a long time, and had been to New Falls only a few times, the location where the lake had once spilled into what was the Bentwide. The place they made for, Surthquay, was about three leagues north of New Falls.

  "I've never been there," Robby said. "I think I've seen it on some maps, though."

  "It is where boats will meet Thurdun's company," Ashlord told him, "and convey them north across the lake."

  They followed alongside the Bentwide, now a mere brook, leaving Passdale behind, and then entered a wooded and hilly track of road. Here were fewer farms and the ground was rocky. They did pass some apple orchards, and, about two leagues out, they came to Branson's Vineyards, its ancient terraces busy with rows of carefully maintained vines. The workers in the fields tossed friendly waves at them as they passed. Every fall the Bransons provided ample casks of wine for the festival, and they always seemed a merry bunch of folk. This year, in spite of the troubles with the recent flood, the grapes were full and sweet. Robby had recently helped his father arrange for a second shipment of new glass bottles for the Branson's who, under Mr. Ribbon's tutelage, were sending their product far and wide in a variety of containers.

  The road turned north sharply, and the old bed of the Bentwide fell off into a ravine. This they followed alongside for a league or two and the farmland fell away for good as the road led them into the shady and cool forest. There they slowed their pace a bit.

  "Tell me, what have you been doing with yourself these many weeks?" Ashlord queried. "No incidents of concern, I hope?"

  "Oh, no," Robby said. "I've been busy at the store, in my father's absence. That's about all. In the evening I take walks, as I did last night."

  "Passdale is lucky to have such a man as your father," Ashlord said. "He has a knack for getting people to cooperate with each other. A very capable man in matters of commerce as well as having a deep sense of civic fairness."

  "I'm very proud of him," Robby nodded. "Will you be coming to the Counting?"

  "I may. And what of Sheila? I have exchanged a few notes with her, though not enough to well discern how she is."

  "I think she is doing fairly well," Robby said. "She dresses differently now, since coming to stay with us. And she helps with the store, too, and with other things around and about. I rarely get to spend any time with her, though, and I haven't talked to her about, well, about those things that happened to her. She is different, now."

  "How do you mean?"

  "She is less merry than she once was. That is understandable, but," Robby searched for words, "but she also seems more thoughtful, contemplative."

  "I'm sure she has a lot to think about."

  "Yes, that's true. But she seems to hold me at some distance. It is almost as if she is avoiding me. She comes and goes, lives just across the hall from me, and we often breakfast and sup together, but, well..."

  "But she does not act as if she loves you?"

  Robby was struck by the boldness of Ashlord's question.

  "I guess that's it," he said, a bit embarrassed. "Sometimes she, well, she looks at me as if she still does. I can't explain it. I do think she does love me, but she keeps her distance, in a manner of speaking."

  "Ah."

  Robby looked at Ashlord who was nodding.

  "What?"

  "Well," Ashlord said, "I am no matchmaker, and I try to stay out of the affairs of others when it comes to matters of the heart. But I may have some insight here that might be worth considering."

  "What is that?"

  "When she came to me, she was not trying to escape from you," he told Robby. "She sought to improve herself. It was her plan to come to me long before she was attacked by her uncle. Things did not work out the way Sheila planned, that is obvious. Yet, she came, nonetheless. She sought to gain knowledge and learning to become worthy of you. I think she feared that you would abandon her when enticed by the other girls of the area. Or when you went off to school in Glareth, as she told me you plan to do. And, anyway, as she told me, it is well to learn while one has the opportunity, however late in life, whatever the season or the reason."

  "That's what Mrs. Bosk said," Robby agreed. "Or something of the sort. But I tried to assure Sheila on that account."

  "Yes, I'm sure you did. But now there is something new, isn't there? Something else that she did not anticipate," Ashlord said. "She now knows that you have a role to play in great affairs. She fears that."

  "I don't get it," Robby urged his mount to keep up. "I did what I did out at Tulith Attis, and that's that. There's nothing more to it. I wish I did have something to do with things, at least things beyond Barley and Passdale. I long to see the world, or some other part of it. I can hardly wait to be on my way to Glareth next spring. Some days I just want to go ahead and run away. Especially lately. All this waiting and waiting for something to happen is making me crazy. You say I have a role to play, but I just don't see it. I'm just an ordinary person who is curious about other places. Is that so strange?"

  "It is for someone from Passdale!" Ashlord chuckled. "Life there is good, and why anyone would want to leave it is beyond most folks. But I think you are the way you are for a reason. Your longings may only be your own nature speaking to you. Sometimes the heart can piece together that which the mind has not the tools to form."

  Ashlord suddenly reined Anerath to a halt and looked at Robby.

  "Listen to me, Robby Ribbon," he said. "There are powers at work in this world that are beyond our understanding. They have put their fingers upon you and are working through you, whether you realize it or not. All my divining, and all my intelligence, and all my heart tells me this is so. Why you, and not someone else? Why were you sent to ring the Great Bell and not another person? That is still something of a mystery to me. But it is what it is. These forces are not to be taken lightly, and they have caused the triumph and ruin of many. Sheila knows this, and she fears it. And she knows that to be near you is to have those forces work through her upon you, just as they work through everything on earth. She fears, perhaps, that if she moves one way, she will keep you from your destiny. But if she moves another way, she will drive you into it."

  "What fate? What is it that I am to do?" Robby pleaded, shaking his head. "Since I know nothing of these things, and can hardly believe what you say, is there nothing I can do for Sheila?"

  "Why, yes there is, Robby," Ashlord said gently. "You can strive to be her friend. Do not hold her conduct against her, and do not allow her to distance herself from you too much. Let your heart encourage you to honor her. Be strong, and let your friendship grow of itself, as if with a new beginning, without the expectations, or hopes, of the past. What will develop will come of its own, and in accord with the nature of things."

  Robby nodded thoughtfully, and they proceeded along their way, the sun angling lower behind the trees with a cool breeze rustling down the road in their faces.

  "Look there," Ashlord said, pointing to the far bank of the Bentwide. Robby could make out a little waterfall coming down the other side of the old bank.

  "That is where Weepingbrook pours into the Bentwide," Ashlord explained. "And there, to the left of that, now revealed since the Bentwide is no more, are the ancient piers that supported
the bridge that once stood here."

  "Oh yes, I see them."

  "Here the old road used to cross the Bentwide and on into Farbarley to become what you call the Line Road, and thence to Tulith Attis and on to Boskland."

  Indeed, now the roadway seemed to become wider, and in places paved by ancient stones.

  "Why does Duinnor not help Thurdun's people?" Robby asked as he came alongside Ashlord. "He told me that his land is not safe."

  "Well, it is a long story and there is no time to tell it all," Ashlord said. "Vanara is the oldest of all the Realms, and the House of Fairlinden the noblest of its people. It is land rich with woodlands and fields, resting against the southern Blue Mountains. On the other side of those mountains are the great deserts of Drakyr, the Dragonkind lands. From there, the Dragonkind have often raided Vanara through passes and secret tunnels in the mountains, and for ages Vanara has borne the brunt of many an assault upon the Realms. Vanara cannot defend against them unaided, but Duinnor insists upon payment. In lieu of that, Vanara must give leases to its lands to Duinnor, which Duinnor does not return without unreasonable payment. In this manner, the treasure of Vanara is depleted. Duinnor insists, too, that its armies be posted within Vanara, and that Vanara must aid Duinnor in its many ill-advised campaigns in the Dragonlands. Slowly, therefore, Duinnor has exerted greater power over Thurdun's people."

  "Still," Ashlord went on, "the assaults of the Dragonkind are steady and yet not massive. They raid and harry across the mountains, destroy and burn, and then retreat back into the desert. The Vanarans have built many fortifications along their borders, but still the Dragonkind warriors find ways through. Some think they do so by treacherous intelligence provided to them. At any rate, Duinnor has had its attention elsewhere, and has yielded little useful aid, even though Vanara may be a doorway of assault should war come."

  "I thought the Dragon Lands were much farther south and west," Robby questioned.

  "They are vast," Ashlord nodded. "And stretch from the southern sea to the northern badlands south of Vanara's border. They have even made war in lands much nearer to us than that, and, as you know, they scoured even this countryside early in this age."

  They descended nearer to the riverbed, which was but a trickle of a stream, passing through rocks and boulders. Ashlord pointed on up the riverbed as it rose into a gully some half-mile away.

  "That is where New Falls once poured," he said. "It is where the lake once spilled out, forming the Bentwide River."

  Robby nodded, remembering what it had looked like many years ago, when his father and mother brought him here for a summer picnic. Then, the river gushed and splashed through the gully, and the surrounding woods were cool and shady. Now it was all quite dry, and somewhat dismal.

  "Has anyone ever seen their cities?" Robby asked as the road climbed up and away. "The Dragonkind cities, I mean. Especially the Golden City?"

  "Yes," Ashlord said. "I myself have seen Tyrsharat, as the Golden City is properly called. That was long, long ago. I went there in more peaceful times, as an envoy of Duinnor. It is a fabulous city, and it is true that its palaces are roofed in gold and that its courts are tiled in jade and ebony. Yet the Dragonkind people rarely enjoy the wealth of their masters, and there is little but want, poverty, and ignorance surrounding the opulence of the Sun King. His people suffer terrible illnesses born of the desert, with little relief. All serve the masters, and all masters serve the King. No one is permitted any learning or any practice that is not ordered to them, and all, the high and the low, are slaves of their King. The King himself is treated as a god, and when he goes forth, the people praise him as he passes, and they prostrate themselves before him, showering his path with flowers. He is often carried on a magnificent sedan, but sometimes he walks, resplendent in his gold and ebony robes and his jewel-studded jade headpiece. When he does so, many, in their prostrated state, reach out in an effort to touch the hem of his robes, thinking they may be blessed by doing so."

  "Have you ever seen him, the Dragonkind King?"

  "Only once, from a great distance! My dealings were with a rather low-level adjunct to the Minister of Lands."

  "Why were you there?"

  "It was my duty to be courier of the border agreements between Duinnor, Vanara, and the Dragonkind, particularly agreements involving trade with one of the northern cities in the desert, a place called Kajarahn. As I said, that was long ago. A different king rules the Dragonlands, now. And such agreements no longer exist, if they ever meant anything in the first place."

  They continued to climb upward, and Robby thought about how difficult it must have been for Thurdun's wagons to come this way. He wondered, too, at the forest, its autumn colors more common here than in Passdale, with reds and golds already flashing through the green in the slanting light. They topped the hill and through the trees glistened the waters of Lake Halgaeth in the distance. A moment later, the trees thinned, and Robby could barely see the far eastern shore, even at this point, the narrowest part of the lake. To the right and far off he saw mists rising up from what once was Heneil's Wall. A fury of water now crashed through the gap where the dam once stood, sending the spray high, and for a moment Robby saw a rainbow hovering over the mist.

  "Halgaeth quickly resumes its ancient level," Ashlord commented.

  They continued on, heading downward off the hill and into the dim evening that had already settled upon the forest. They had not gone another league when two soldiers suddenly stepped out of the shadows and challenged them. They wore gray buttoned jackets and black helmets, and Robby recognized them by their dress as the escorts he had seen the night before.

  "Who goes?" one of them called out sternly.

  "Collandoth and company," Ashlord answered.

  "Ah, Collandoth," the soldier acknowledged as the two riders approached. "You are expected. It is good to see you again."

  "And you, Garlan!"

  Robby smiled and nodded to the soldiers as he passed them.

  "These are not soldiers of Duinnor that go with Thurdun," Robby said to Ashlord a moment later.

  "No, they are of the House of Seafar, mostly, and other men of Vanara who are loyal to Fairlinden and whose families have remained loyal to Vanara," Ashlord explained. "There, in Vanara, the bond between Elifaen and Men is the strongest, and no other realm knows its like, surely not Duinnor, and not even Glareth by the Sea."

  Robby saw lights flickering ahead, and they soon entered a broad grassy headland, sloping gently downward to the lake. There, near the water, in a clearing surrounded by ancient poplars, tall and massive, was the encampment of Thurdun's party, the wagons and horses drawn up, the campfires and cooking fires lit, and lanterns hung all around. Robby could also see the gray outline of a stone quay jutting out some distance into the lake, at the end of which were two pillars—oddly shaped, bent it seemed—with braziers aflame at their tops. More soldiers waved them through the outer line of the encampment, and, as they dismounted, several men and a lady approached.

  "Collandoth! I knew you would be on time!" cried one of the men.

  "Aye, and we just made camp this morning," said the other. Robby recognized Thurdun. "Who's this? Robby Ribbon of Passdale? I didn't expect to ever see you again, much less so soon!"

  "I talked Ashlord, er, that is, Collandoth into bringing me along," Robby said shaking Thurdun's hand. "I hope you don't mind."

  "Not at all! Tonight we have something of a celebration," Thurdun laughed. "We depart in the morning to begin the final leg of our journey, if the boats arrive, that is."

  "Oh, they will come," Ashlord assured him.

  "This is my good friend, Captain Chanter," Thurdun said, indicating the soldier at his side. "I believe you two have met?"

  "Ah, yes," Ashlord nodded, taking the captain's hand. "We first met at Gory Gulch."

  "Aye, the same," said Chanter, a tall man with short-cropped brown and gray hair, clean shaven, and with intense blue eyes. "What? Nearly thirty years ago?"
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  "Yes, thereabouts," Ashlord replied.

  "I was but a sniveling squire, then, not even ten years old. And I was terrified the whole while. Yet, was many a lizard we slew that night!"

  "Yes, but at too great a cost. And you acquitted yourself in battle as well as any warrior there. The last time we met, though, you were completing your letters at the Queen's Academy. I see you are now one of the Gray Guard. My congratulations to you!"

  "Aye, thank you, sir! For the past few years it has been my honor to serve the Queen."

  "Here, allow me to introduce my companion, Robby Ribbon, son of Robigor Ribbon, of Passdale."

  "Pleased."

  "And this is my sister's handmaiden, Gaiyelneth." Thurdun introduced the young lady who stood at the edge of the group. She was about Robby's height, with dark reddish hair like the autumn maple leaf, and white skin. Her eyes were black as coal and her nose small and round over broad lips. She was dressed in a simple costume, bodice, blouse and skirt, with a shawl thrown over her shoulders, and when Ashlord and Robby bowed, she curtseyed.