Into the Stone Land (17 page)

Alkin said, “The boy needs proper training.”

Avea said, “Does he now? I wonder what would happen if I try to tame his gift. I wonder if such a thing could and should be tamed, or if it is best untamed. Wild things are unpredictable. Tame a wild beast and it becomes predictable. Clear enough for you now?”

Tall wondered that they talked like he wasn't there until he realized what he heard and what they spoke were different. They spoke in a singsong language as unlike the harsh undermountain speech as his own language. He cleared his throat, was about to object when Avea glared at him. “And Rhyliath,” she called out. “Thank you very much for teaching him the listening.”

The edge to her voice was chilling. Now it was Rhyliath's turn to object. “I merely suggested—”

“The boy hasn't a clue what he does. Might as well be a trained pig—at the least you could eat the pig when you tire of it or it dies.”

The remark cut at Tall as much as Rhyliath. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if he cared what Avea thought of him, except that he did care. Somehow what Avea thought of him mattered a great deal.

Alkin climbed onto Rhyliath's back, put his hand out to Tall. Avea followed. Rhyliath launched into the air, rapidly stroking his wings.

Flight. It seemed a mighty struggle destined to failure, perhaps because Rhyliath carried three passengers instead of two, but more so because the lizard was so very large. The thought that something so immense could fly seemed preposterous. Yet there Rhyliath was, beating his wings furiously and climbing into the sky.

Rhyliath made no complaint even as he strained to circle around and level out on a northwesterly path. On the ground below, Grandin and his men moved at a pace that belied their stout frames and heavy packs. Tall's brood followed closely, with Lucky and Lady moving at the rear due to the saddle bags and other cargo they were weighed down with. Tall didn't mind that they were being used as pack animals, but he wished Avea, Grandin, or someone had asked him first.

His frustration gave way to wonder. He never dreamed of going where buzzers lived or soaring where rain birthed. Their course made the sun seem a great orange ball that loomed just out of reach. Tall imagined he could wrap his arms around it and snatch it out of the sky—if he dared.

He closed his eyes against Rhyliath's sudden rise and fall. Wind rushed by his ears. His stomach was in his throat.

Born to a floating world as he was, sudden shifting and other movements were not unusual. The movement of the land spoke to him, as did the ebb and flow. It was in fact the stillness of the stone land that made him homesick. He longed to feel the earth move under his feet again. This was different, however. There seemed no method, rhythm, or sense to it. He felt like they were so much jetsam caught in a flow, for the air seemed as much in control as Rhyliath.

As he stared into the distance, he studied Rhyliath's movements. Rhyliath stroked his wings repeatedly to climb, set his wings to glide, tucked his wings to dive. But then suddenly, for no reason, they'd be buffeted about, like they were fighting a force unseen.

A sudden popping of his ears caused him to cry out. It wasn't until he screamed and his ears crackled that he realized there was something wrong. He could hear, but sound was muffled.

Alkin slapped Tall's thigh roughly. Tall started, turned, realizing the rider was trying to say something to him.

“Be of use in the search or join the others on the run,” Alkin said tersely.

Avea said, “Alkin, manners.”

“The boy daydreams and stares off into nothingness.”

“The boy has never been aloft. I'm sure it is all a wonder to him.”

Tall said, “The boy is right here.”

Avea and Alkin turned to him at the same time. Avea said, “Would that we had a seer. We would know where to begin. Lacking one, we must hunt.”

“Ever hunt?” Alkin asked. “A good hunter knows the signs, how to pick up a trail and follow tracks, how to distinguish between a false trail and a real trail. While aloft, we look for signs, try to follow where trail and track lead us.” Alkin paused. Tall nodded to indicate he was listening.

“The soldiers may have a few days on us, but there are so many of them. They leave a wide path of destruction in their wake. Trampled grasses, broken plants, felled saplings. Not to mention litter and waste.”

Avea added, “As we close in on them, we should see a dust plume like that one.” She pointed to the distance.

The thought that they were close to finding Ray made Tall's heart race. Ray was hope, even if finding Ray meant telling him of his parents' deaths. “The wizard's men?” Tall asked.

“Hardly,” Avea said. “That's your brood. We'll need to do something about that. Can't have them announcing our presence to our enemies.”

“But,” Tall objected, “Surely Grandin and his make a wake too.”

Alkin pointed. “That's Grandin and his. See anything?”

Tall stared, squinted. He saw nothing.

“Grandin and his wear soft leathers and padded jerkins. They move silently and without sign.”

Tall sat silently, glumly. For a long time, he stared out at the vast expanse below.

Alkin broke the silence, saying, “Staring at one point in the distance isn't much good. Take a post and scan it. It's what a good spotter does. Avea looks ahead. I, to our right flank. The left flank can be yours.”

Tall started to respond, a glint of mischief came to his eyes. He grinned, pointed. “Don't make sign huh? What's that then?” A thin plume of smoke rose into the sky. In the amber hues of the setting sun it was like an exclamation point etched into the horizon.

“That,” Alkin said, “Is Grandin signaling.” Alkin touched Avea's shoulder, pointed to the smoke trail. Avea must have said something to Rhyliath, for the great lizard banked immediately and soon after they were landing beside Grandin and his men.

Tall slid off Rhyliath's back. Snub Nose, Horn Eyes and Big Tooth tackled him and playfully nipped at his legs and arms. Big Feet, Bent Snout and the others seemed to think it was funny. They watched and snorted. The bulls were half grown now and nearly as big as Tall himself. Tall rolled, rubbed bellies, scratched behind ears.

Grandin broke up the play with a thunderous clap of his hands. The bulls formed a loose circle around Tall, eyeing Grandin. “There's a stream west of camp. Go, find your dinner,” Grandin told them by way of Tall, who had only to think to pass it along.

Big Tooth circled Tall protectively before scampering after the others. It was a warning to Grandin, and Grandin seemed to understand it.

“Their joining to you is more than the tethers now,” Grandin said. “It is unfortunate.”

Tall didn't understand. “Why?”

“No one person can bond so many.” Grandin walked toward the others as he talked. He handed Tall a plate and scooped something from an iron pot onto it. “Such a bonding is unheard of. It takes Avea and Alkin both to bond Rhyliath, and then only because Rhyliath restrained it and allowed them to draw off it as he grew to adulthood. You, with so many, have no chance, and yet to break the connections now will… Will…”

“Enough, Grandin,” Avea said. “Between you and Rhyliath, I don't know which is worse. Telling the boy things he should not know so soon, and perhaps not at all.”

Tired of being spoken of like he wasn't present, Tall said, “I'm right here, Avea. I want to know.”

Avea spun about on her heel, came to stand right in front of Tall. “You want to know. Do you really? Do you want to know that as they grow and grow and grow the bonds will become such a burden you will not only wish them broken but desire it above all else, knowing even that it will kill you or them or both? You won't be able to ingest enough seed to stay the hunger or cure the desire.”

It was Alkin who came unexpectedly to Tall's defense. “Unfair, Avea. You speak of Rhyliath's binding. There were many who told you attempting to bind a wivre was foolishness. That it would kill you and the wivre with a certainty. And yet you tried… You tried because of our great need, and you succeeded.”

“Forget to mention my great conceit, you old fool?” Avea said. A hint of laughter was meant to hide her lament, but Tall still heard the sorrow in her voice. As she stalked off, he was certain there were tears in her eyes. She called back, “See that he doesn't expire just yet, at least until after I return.”

With that Avea was gone into the deepening shadows. Grandin patted Tall's shoulder, ladled another heaping spoonful from the iron pot onto his plate. Tall joined the others on the ground and started eating. It was a thick stew. “Vegetable, no meat,” Grandin told him when he poked at it with his spoon.

The stew warmed his belly. Tall washed it down with cool water. He went to refill the emptied water bag. The stream was alive with the sounds of his bulls. They churned the waters with their frolicking.

Snub Nose was the first to see him. She crawled up halfway onto the bank and turned her head for him to scratch behind her ears. Tall obliged her. The others followed, clambering over each other. When each got their turn, they returned to the stream.

Tall squatted down at the bank to watch them play and hunt. They were efficient, indiscriminate hunters. They seemed to eat just about anything that swam, crawled, flew or hopped.

The way they suddenly pounced reminded him of the way Avea suddenly snapped at him. She'd done it several times now. In front of one of the others each time, bringing them to his defense. He wondered if it was like when Ever Hungry chased his prey, feinted right, only to pounce left. If so, her antagonism was a ploy.

A soft crackling behind him caused him to start. He turned to see Avea. She was standing behind him. From her expression, he guessed that she might have been there for some time and purposefully made a noise to get his attention.

As she stared down at him, there was no hint of tears in her eyes. She didn't say anything for the longest time, then she said, “You are as clever as I hoped. You see things others don't. Ray was like that.”

She offered him her hand, helped him stand.

“Now if we could just teach you not to broadcast your thoughts so readily.” Her voice trailed off. Half to herself she said, “Or perhaps there simply are too many tethers for a proper closing.”

To change the subject, Tall asked, “Where's Rhyliath?”

Avea said nothing but looked west. For a while they watched the brood, they stood idly, they said little. The spectacle of the setting sun gave way to the half-light of dusk. In hushed tones, Avea began telling him of her people, of the time before the wizard's reign. She told him also of the gypsies of the wastes, the peoples of the kays. Some time passed before he realized those she spoke of were his people seen through her eyes. This realization came only when she spoke of Nahter, of how the deep amity Nahter's people shared with hers birthed their deep passion for each other.

Through her words, Tall came to know her, the woman once a queen, fierce in her constancy, who desired above all else a return to easier times, who died a little each day the wizard lived. He realized she opened herself to gain his trust, for she needed him to trust her fully, just as she needed Grandin and Alkin to put aside any dislike they had for him. Be that as it may, she got much more than his trust; she got his affection. Who would not love such a woman, who when asked put others above herself and who when faced with insurmountable odds continued on.

Feeling suddenly queasy, Tall stumbled. Avea helped him keep his feet. Convulsions followed and she cradled him in her arms. “Seed,” he croaked, barely getting the word out.

At her call Grandin and Alkin came running—or at least they must have, for his next conscious thought was of Grandin and Alkin carrying him into a tent. Alkin was angry, carrying on about how they would never catch the soldiers in time if they had to babysit. “He is hope,” was Avea's reply before she stalked out of the tent. She returned moments later with seed. She tried to fight her way past Grandin to feed it to Tall, but it was Alkin who gave Tall the seed.

“His death when it comes,” Grandin shouted, “is on you. I nursed him to health once. I wash my hands of it.”

That was what Grandin said, but it was Grandin who helped Tall through the long night. A night filled with dreams of shadows and white fire and angry crimson.

Chapter 16: Goals Glimpsed

Grandin and his were packed and waiting for word to move out by the time Tall washed in the stream and ate breakfast. Avea said a bath was a necessity to rid him of his animal smell. He bathed perhaps a bit too long, as his brood thought he came to play.

Tall emerged from the cool waters to find someone had taken his clothes and replaced them. He returned to camp wearing the high boots, leathers, and cape put out for him. The clothes were similar to Avea and Alkin's, but Alkin seemed displeased to see him in them. Alkin said, “Why is he in the seer's clothes? This does not bode well for the seer's return.”