The King's Name (35 page)

Then Urdo was there, leaning against an oak tree on the opposite side of the clearing from me. I looked again; maybe he was the tree. It was as if the whole wood, the whole hillside, the whole country, was Urdo's body now, as the lake had been the Mother's body the night we had visited her. He was not dead, no more than Ohtar was, for he would not return to live other lives. He was Urdo forever, not as a man but as part of the land. It was small enough comfort in my grief for the man who was my friend. He looked at me, but we did not speak. There were no words, there could be no words in this time, only the great chords of the music of the land as his new awareness pulsed into Darien's veins and moved the air around us. If every musician in the country had played at once it would not have made a harmony like the swelling of the themes of that music.

After a while there was a moment when we were waiting, and then the high gods were there, above the trees, as if they had always been there, as of course they had. Gangrader was there
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among them, with Heider and

Tew and others of the Jarnish gods I did not recognize. Darien bowed to them all, courteously, one by one, and they stood there above the trees, waiting again.

Darien stood alone in the center of the grove, for Apple and I were away toward the edge of the trees. He lowered his head for a moment. Then he touched one hand to his pebble. He reached out his hands, palm down, then palm up. There was a hushed expectancy, although the music neither stopped nor slowed, and then there was the light, limning everything with clarity that was neither sunlight nor moonlight, making everything seem larger, more distinct and more clearly itself. Everything glowed with benevolent light, and the music which had been all the parts of the island became one song, praising the light, the God made Man whose sacrifice had enabled all beings to become more truly themselves. Everything was love and warmth and safety, everything was in its place and growing there. The song was an affirmation rising from the heart and filling the soul.

For a moment I felt it, as Darien raised his arms. The light was made up of all that I loved; the land, the

Peace, even my gods were singing. But inside me something was still cold, and my heart said no. It may have been my stubborn nature that would not turn from the old ways. Or it may have been my grief that would not let me wholly give myself to rejoicing. I turned Apple's head away from the light, and stared out into the darkness behind me. The song was subdued at once, little more than a memory behind me. It seemed I was staring into a desolation, a plain of ashes, and out in that plain I could see a city of darkness, gray against black, a city whose towers were spikes and whose heart was malice. Morthu was out there, and his kind, those who would rather do harm than good. It wasn't only Morthu and I knew it, but Morthu was the heart of the spite I could see and name. There were dark gods there, too, some formless and some with shapes and names that I feared. I almost turned back to the light. I had no desire to hate and spoil like Morthu. But Apple

whickered, and there came an answering sound of crows, and I knew that Gangrader was behind me.

My heart said no again. I absolutely refused to yield Morthu the darkness. This was a false choice and no choice and I would not be forced to make it. I raised Urdo's sword. Light moved on the blade before me. I drew a deep breath and remembered starlight on the sea.

Without the darkness there would be no light. Every light casts shadows, too, and without the shadows there would be no light because everything would be light. I remembered sun through the clouds, and I remembered every dark night I had stood a night watch on a cold camp and the beauty there was in darkness. I remembered the colors of morning when I had come to them through night.

With every memory I pushed my darkness out onto that plain. My darkness had trees and wind and the splash of the sea. I heard a bear's low growl behind me. My darkness was a welcome friend, different from the light. I remembered a light seen in a farm window on a night ride long ago, somebody dying or being born. I

remembered the dark on top of Foreth. I could smell the water weed of the Mother's lake high in the hills of

Bregheda. I held the sword high and looked at it, knowing that a sword can kill, but that some people must be prepared to kill to keep the Peace. My darkness was not an attack on the light but something else real and good. Lightning split the sky before me and thunder crashed around me, and the lake was in front of me, dark under the sky, between the blue flashes. I threw the sword out into the water as I had promised Urdo. I saw her hand come up to catch it. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, and it was not Gangrader's but the Lord of the Cunning Hand. He pressed a spear forward into my empty hand, and the spear shone with blue light. As I
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looked at the spear I knew it was a great treasure of the land, as great as Urdo's sword, and greater in my hand because it had been meant for me.

As I took it I heard the music again, another upswelling behind me, and this time it sounded more resonant, like a light shining in darkness or a harp played in a hall when the wind blows cold outside.

The dark citadel was almost surrounded by my wholesome darkness. It now seemed to stand on a crag far off in the distance. Then I saw Morthu standing on the walls and aiming a war machine at me. Darien moved up beside me, armored in blue and gold, shining. Ohtar was on my other side, a huge bear snarling defiance.

Behind me were Urdo and Gangrader, Turth and Bregheda, the Lord of Light, the Lord of the Cunning Hand, Sky Father, Heider, the Lady of Wisdom and all the gods in their ranks, and the White God himself, a slight, bearded Sinean wearing a loincloth.

Morthu's war machine sent a great ball of dark fire toward us. I raised my spear to block it, but saw too late that it was aimed not at me but at Darien. As fast as thought, Apple and I moved between Darien and the ball and it burst around us.

—21—

She rides through battle, dealing death, choosing which warriors to invite, steel cold eyes, cold steel sword, selecting those who feast tonight, she may laugh or howl as she stalks, picking the ones she will smite.

—From "Walkurja"

The world around me went out like a blown candle and I was crushed by despair that fell on me like a heavy weight. I was running full tilt through the wood, in the dark, entirely alone and entirely desperate. I had already been running for a long time and I was tired. There was no possibility of rest or refuge. It was hard for my thoughts to get any purchase on the surface of my mind. Whenever one did it immediately began to spiral into a terrible, despairing loop.

It seems that I went around each loop more than once, some of them many times, so that they were both terrible and terribly familiar. I ran, without really seeing the woods around me, accepting what I saw without thinking about it. There were trees and the shadows of trees stretching out all around me however far I ran. I saw eyes, more than once, regarding me from the undergrowth; a boar, a cat, a great silver hound. I veered away from them less in fear than in self-loathing. I ran heedless for a time without measure, until at last I caught my foot on a tussock and sprawled headlong, bruised and sobbing. I almost poked myself in the eye with the spear. It had stopped glowing. My fingers were cramped from clutching it. I was almost ready to cast it away uncaring, but I knew there was a reason I had to keep it. I looked at it for a while before I remembered that it was given to me in trust.

What had I thought I was doing standing there among the gods, taking gifts from them, thinking myself almost one of them? Alone in the dark, cold wood I knew myself all too human. My mistakes had led to

Urdo's death, and now he was dead and there was nothing in the world worth living for. I could help keep the

Peace and rule Derwen, but they would be hollow, joyless things. The weight of my grief and loneliness made me double over. Duty was a thin shield indeed against it. Still, the spear had been given to me and I would guard it. Though their purposes were beyond me, I knew I had been there and I refused to fail in my trust. I

had been there, even if it was hard to hold it clearly.

What had I thought I was doing, sitting on Apple's back? Apple was dead, long ago in Caer Lind. Alone among the strange trees I knew myself far from home. These were not my familiar woods and this was not my land that remembered him. I was a stranger here, alone,
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uninvited, and unwelcome. I pulled myself to my feet to seek a way out and ran again, blindly, lurching, blundering into trees. After a while I stopped and threw my head back and howled.

What had I thought I was doing, trying to change the shape of the world when not even my family trusted me?

Alone beneath the rustling branches I knew I had no real family. I hardly knew Darien, and now he was about to forgive Angas for killing Urdo. My father was dead. The brother I loved and the brother I despised were both dead, my sister had died after trying to poison me, my mother was old and had never really found me worthy of her. I howled and scrabbled at the fallen leaves and loam of the forest floor, stirring up a smell of damp rot that almost made me gag.

What had I thought I was doing, surviving the battle? Alone in the moonlight among the falling leaves I

understood Emer, going forward to die. Almost I envied her for her illusions. I had long understood that a valiant death in battle is still only death and pain and blood and an end to life. Urdo was dead. I had outlived my lord and my purpose in life. I had failed in my duty to defend him. I had not been there in time. I wailed and wept and rocked to and fro. Again the spear got in my way, reminding me of its existence.

What had I thought I was doing, throwing away Urdo's sword? Alone in the chilly glade I knew I had nothing left to remind me. I had been clutching the spear all this time, now I hugged it to me and sobbed over it. For a moment it was comforting, then it was hateful to me. It was a reminder of how I had failed in my responsibility. I longed to throw it away. I considered killing myself with it. I hated it. I hated myself. I hated the whole world. In that moment I even hated Urdo for failing me by dying. He was supposed to tell me what to do, and now I would never be sure again. I tore at my hair, tearing it out in great clumps. Somehow the pain steadied me. Pain, a part of my mind thought, is my ally. I saw a raven sitting on a bare branch in front of me, dark against the darkness.

What had I thought I was doing, being here at all? Alone beneath branches reaching like needy hands I knew

I should have stayed at home and taken care of my responsibilities and my own people, who were my duty even if they hated me. I knew I would never find myself again, never find my way home to the people who had trusted me and who I had abandoned. I was worthless. I caught at the spear to hurl it away, and caught my thumb on the blade, a beginner's mistake. I had not done that since I was twelve years old. What a stubborn fool I was, without even the skill to handle a spear properly. I sang the healing charm over my thumb, by reflex. I wasn't at all surprised when it didn't work, and the wound continued to sting and drip blood. It was what I deserved, after all, to be abandoned even by the gods.

As I put my cut thumb in my mouth I looked up through the pain and saw that it was not entirely true that they had all abandoned me. Gangrader was here, leaning against a tree in front of me and looking down quizzically. I realized that he had come to claim me at last. I was here to die of exposure in the wood, to complete the sacrifice Ulf had made of me.

What had I thought I was doing, living my life? Alone with Gangrader in the cold, wintry glade, I knew that my whole life since Ulf had dedicated me had been like a brand drawn back from the fire to be thrust into it on the next cold night. I had fought and ruled and laughed and thought myself alive, but really I had been dead all this time and not known it. I looked at him and hated him. He was standing in a patch of moonlight, leaning against a great ash tree. There was a grizzling of snow on the ground. He had his dark cloak clutched around him and a raven perched on his shoulder. One eye socket was shadowed and empty. He stared at me and did not speak. I stared back, despairing.

He continued to stand there looking at me until anger moved in me. Anger is another ally, came a thought somewhere at the back of my mind. I pulled anger around me like a warm blanket until fury filled me. "What did you think you were doing, claiming me against my will, Lord of the Slain?" I asked. My voice sounded dull

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and flat and hopeless in my ears. I did not ask how it would be worse to be claimed by Gangrader than to run mad in the wood. "Here you are in the wood, come to get me, yet I have never worshiped you or called on you, and so the sacrifice Ulf Gunnarsson made was worthless, being unwilling."

Gangrader laughed harshly, making me furious. "The unwilling are no less welcome," he said, in Jarnish.

I stared up at him, filled with indignation. "Of all the ridiculous, barbaric ideas I've heard from the Jarns over the years, that is the worst. How can it be? The whole purpose of a sacrifice is that it be made wholehearted.

That's revolting."

"Long it would take to ask consent of those you left behind you for the battlecrows," he said, in Tanagan now.

"That's different. They would have killed me as quickly," I said, rocking back on my heels and staring up at him. "That is not sacrifice."

"What difference if my servant throw a spear to hurtle past the waiting swords and eyes, and dedicate the harvest reaped to me?"

"All the difference in the world!" I shouted, getting to my feet. "The gods have power but people have will. You may not claim me against mine."