The Forge in the Forest (51 page)

"
Follow to the Landfall
!" cried Roc, and Elof with him. But the city folk needed no further summons. The cry from the tower had done its work, here as elsewhere, with the bells for confirmation, and the sight of armed men abroad who were not their Ekwesh oppressors. Out of doors they streamed, men and women and even young children as the chamberlain had said. They took up the cry with a force that drowned the bells, and after Kermorvan and his company they streamed, all the way down to the sea. Many ran from other streets to join them, some newly arisen who had scarely heard the summons, others from the streets near the citadel which had risen first, who had already seen battle and their houses burn, and were now in fell mood. "Who is it summons us?" growled one in northern tones, hefting a bloodied sword.

"One who was spoken of," answered Elof shortly, for Kermorvan was silent. "At the Landfall more will be said."

Hearing the northern speech the man looked sharply at Elof. "I thought to know all of our kindred within this city, and most within the land, for I have traveled widely. Yet though your face is somehow familiar, you I know not, nor your garb."

"Nor should you. For from the utmost shores of the west I have come. At the Landfall all will hear. Wait till then!"

But his words were heard, and a whisper raced through the crowd. "The west! The west lives! It awakens, and comes to war!"

A sudden scent he knew and loved, a reek of sea and ships and all that went with them, reached Elof's nostrils and he smiled.

"Aye, it is as I thought," croaked the chamberlain. "Here they have gathered, where first men set foot in all this wide land, beneath the images of our vanished glory." And indeed, all around the square a ring of tall shadows towered silent and grim upon their pedestals above the heads of the milling crowds, dwarfing the hotheads who clambered there to harangue them. All kinds, all ages were gathered, with every sign of disorder and haste; many were half clad and wild, but none without some kind of weapon. The Ekwesh in their confidence, or design to appear so, had made no great effort to confiscate weapons save the armories of the City Guard. Many others had weapons and even some armor in their homes—merchants who had once had wealth to guard at home or abroad, and others who had kept older weapons as trophy or ornament; there were many of these, chased pike or polished sword, worn but serviceable. For the rest Elof saw hunting bows and short falchions, slaughterers' poleaxes and heavy butchers' cleavers, boathooks and spikes stripped from the quayside, carpenters' hatchets and fearsome rakes and bills that must have come in from the fields, or tended the green gardens of the city. Where those were wanting, even the ordinary tools of the household had been turned to use, maul and meat knife, chain and weaving-sword, or simply stout wood for staff and cudgel. Anger and fear broke over the crowd like surf, and made these homely things deadly in the hands that held them.

Into this melee plunged the newcomers and their following, at the chamberlain's direction making for the raised platform that began the seawall, flanked by two tall statues that he named the Watchers. A few would-be leaders stood there and shouted conflicting commands that few heard, let alone heeded; all eyes were turned upon the travelers, for their armor and their air of purpose. Many also recognized the old man they bore with them, half fainting from the race through the city. "It is you who must speak, if you can," said Kermorvan urgently. "You they may believe sooner than an outsider!"

"Then set me upon the base of the lefthand Watcher, and give me a torch!" Ils and Kermorvan boosted him up easily, and many following began to call for silence. The other speakers were drowned and fell back abashed, slow to argue with armed men. The crowd's roar gradually sank to an uneasy murmur, and the old man, catching his breath, hauled himself up against the legs of the statue and cried out, "People of Morvannec! Heirs of Morvan, Mor-vanniannen all! You know me, Erouel, late chamberlain to Koren our lord, and like you downtrodden into the very dust!" His dry, dignified voice was better than the loudest herald, for the true passion that alone sustained it could be heard. "But this night I have beheld a great wonder, men of might such as we heard of in olden time! All the way from the west they have come! The Powers herald them, as many have seen, and the Elder folk are their allies! Hear them! And above all him who…"He gasped and swayed, as if he would fall. "No more words do you need! Only behold!"

Kermorvan sprang forward, lifting his arms to catch the old man. But he fell not, only lifted high his torch to spread flaring light over both statue and man below. And the crowd swayed as one, and gasped, for one might have been the other. Elof read off the stiff characters upon the pedestal. "
Kaer..Yn
! Keryn! Keryn the Fifth!"

"Small wonder old Korentyn mistook!" breathed Roc. Armed alike were Kermorvan and the statue, closer still in countenance, and life seemed to leap between them. The golden stone took on the tint of living skin, the sculpted hair a tinge of torchfire, the armor of black marble glistened brighter than the dulled steel, and from both their breasts shone in gold the Raven and Sun.

Kermorvan swung to face the crowd, shrugging back his cloak. "Words you are owed!" He spoke without effort, yet his voice carried over the crowd's excited chatter and stilled it. Elof remembered his quiet command of the crowd in Kerbryhaine, and how he had bound them to his will; he was leaving no time now for any ebb of doubt. "The likeness is no chance; I am Keryn, Lord Kermorvan, last of that line in the west. But in proof of my name I show you its tokens! For through the ruins of Morvan itself have I passed, beneath the devouring Ice; in Dor-ghael Arhlannen itself have I stood, and borne away a great prize." And from his pack he lifted the crowned helm.

A sighing shudder ran through the crowd as the torchlight flamed upon its gems, a louder stir as Elof stepped forward and drew from his own deep pack the worn bronze rod. "Here you stand where your ancestors first stood," he said in a low voice. "If here is not your kingdom, then nowhere is. Receive the scepter!" Kermorvan's mouth twisted in a quick smile. He took the rod, balanced it on his palm as if savoring the moment, and then with swift decision he held crown and scepter high above his head. Like a retreating wave the crowd of thousands drew a single breath, and then as surf that broke in thunder they cheered, a sound that must have shaken the very shutters of the distant palace. Torch guttered and brazier flared as if a sudden storm blast swept across the square.

Yet Kermorvan did not don the helm, as it seemed he might, but instead quickly handed both to Erouel, as if eager to free his hands. "Enough!" he cried, and there was an instant hush. He spoke swiftly, quietly, but his tone was grim. "Now is your time of need. Above us there the barbarians muster. You have taught them a dangerous lesson, shown them that they cannot any longer act like guards over beaten thralls! They gather as an army, for that is the only way they dare meet you now! And if they defeat you they will not be content to keep down heads with a few patrols, and here and there a sharp example; they will slay you every last one, for they can never again feel safe. Perhaps they are already on their way. You have no lord now, no marshal, and you need one. I have seen something of war. But only by your will would I wish to lead you. Say…"

He got no further. The crowd swayed like a cornfield scoured by a storm of hail, and the torrential roar of acclaim was deafening. It did not stop until Kermorvan gestured furiously for silence, and then only by degrees. "So be it, then. Let any who held high rank in your guard come to us now, and merchants, captains of the sea and other men accustomed to command. But do you remember! For this time only are you bound! When peace is restored we shall take counsel once again. Meanwhile I ask only that you receive also my companions, without whom I could not have come to you, or won free of the enemy's snares. Skilled they are in fighting, but stronger yet in the ways of peace. Of both our kindreds in the west they come, and of an older yet. Learn that we men do not stand alone against the Ice and its minions! An emissary of the Elder folk fights beside us, the lady Ils!" An astonished hush greeted her, a ripple of curious whispers, none of the hostility of Kerbryhaine. "For the Sothran folk stands Roc, worthy citizen and soldier!" It was a genial roar that greeted him, for if Kermorvan's face looked down from the statue, Roc's grinned back at him from the crowd, many times over. "And for the northern kin, a smith of surpassing craft and wisdom, by name Elof!"

But when Elof stepped forward in his smith's garb, the cheering faltered among those closest to him. Then suddenly a woman on the steps below him pointed, and screamed. Other arms shot up, words raced through the excited crowd, then so deathly a hush fell that only the calm sea's lapping at the wall below was heard. Alarmed, astonished, Elof looked to his friends, only to see them also staring, not at him, but at the second Watcher above him.

Though to the same scale as its fellow, it seemed gigantic by comparison. An image it was of a towering man, sturdy in body and limb, a shape of strength and grandeur that seemed better clad in bronze and stone than flesh. Not landward did it gaze, but out to the boundless sea, whence came a breeze that set torch and brazier aflare. And in the sudden light Elof also gasped, as the Watcher's countenance became clear. Well formed in its grim way, yet stern pride and anger seamed it, a marred and ferocious mask. It was the countenance he had glimpsed in Morvan, that had haunted his mind ever since. But why should that so affect the others? Ils moved to his side, and took his arm tightly. "Do you not see? But you would not. An old troll, whoever he was, large even among men, old and bearded and cruel of countenance; all these things you are not. But for the rest, the face…" She shook her head. "You are the stamp of it."

Elof's voice stuck in his dry throat. For his looks he cared little; it was the impact of that face that unnerved him. All that he read in it seemed alien to him, and horribly disturbing. He wagged his head in protest, yet he could almost feel the mold of his own features betray him.

He looked desperately to Kermorvan, and found only astonished confirmation. "But how is it possible?"

"Amazing!" murmured Kermorvan. "Small wonder that I resemble my forebears, being of a close-bred line. But you, ignorant even of your own parents, let alone ancestors? Yet it seems you have found one." He turned to Erouel. "Could it be an accident? Is that a true likeness of its original?"

"But do you not know?" demanded the astonished chamberlain. "It is said he went westward, and for all we know died there. But here he landed, and here he would ever look back across the ocean, as does the image, made by one who knew him. Do you not know the lastcomer from Kerys, the lord Vayde?"

"Vayde!" breathed Kermorvan. "Elof, that is Vayde! Vayde the Great, whose tower we scaled, on whose roof you forged your sword… Aye, we know him indeed!" He looked from the statue to Elof, and back, and grinned. "Yes, I could well believe that fiery blood runs somehow in your veins. Does that dismay you? It should not. No better friend had the kings than grim old Vayde!" He laughed aloud. "Keryn and Vayde!"

The gathering guardsmen, merchants and other leaders, hanging on his every word, took up the cry, and through the excited crowd it raced amain. "Keryn and Vayde! The Watchers are come down among us! Keryrn and Vayde are arisen! The Watchers come back to war!"

Kermorvan rounded on them. "Well then! Let us order our fight!"

Of the swift preparations for the Battle of Morvannec the Chronicles tell little, and scarce more of the first fighting itself. It is likely enough that the preparations were few and simple. Against warriors hardened and fanatical Kermorvan could oppose only an ill-armed citizenry, but one driven as hard by wrath at its sufferings, and now also by a wild exultation at what seemed the sudden resurgence in their midst of a mighty past. He could not deploy his people in subtle tactics, or rely on them to defend a strong-

point; he could only hope to hurl them against the foe in great waves, and bear them down by sheer weight of numbers. So he laid his plans, and so the outcome was determined.

It appears, though, that Elof was scarely aware of all this, and played little part in its shaping. A great misery and sickness had settled upon him, a reaction perhaps to the terrors of the past hours, the impact of too many shocks, the burden of harsh discoveries not easily borne. He sat slumped against the base of the stern statue that so resembled him, and the world grew bleak and hopeless. It seemed to him that Kara, for whom he had come so far and through so many hardships, was now eternally beyond his reach. As well might he seek to love the stars that wheeled above him! They appeared as she had, almost close enough to touch; yet how infinitely distant they truly were. And without her, what did anything else mean? His life had fallen inward suddenly, as logs heaped upon a fire burned out at the heart, leaving only a cloud of bitter embers. His long guilt, his sojourn in the Saltmarshes, his long quest against the Mastersmith mattered nothing now, and still less all the hazards of the way east. The sport and toy of destiny he had been, a gaming piece in the strife of the Powers, lured on by false hopes and foolish dreams; lured on to do some good, perhaps, but little enough for himself. He looked up at the statue. What was it to him whose blood flowed in his veins? He had heard little of Vayde, still less that he liked. But he too could have looked out at the ocean thus; he listened to it, rising now as the wind freshened, and felt a deep wish to cast himself down into those infinite waters, and there at last, perhaps, find peace.