The Stricken Field (10 page)

She slid off the chair to her knees and bowed her head. The stranger made a little sighing noise, as if approving. A board creaked as she stepped up on the porch. She dragged the chair back a couple of paces and sat down.

For about a dozen heartbeats there was silence, and then the visitor spoke in that same ancient whisper Thaile had heard in the night. "What lies Outside? "

It was the start of the catechism, and it flooded Thaile's mind with innumerable memories of childhood, of herself standing before her father with Feen and Sheel, learning and repeating the sacred words. She responded automatically. "Death and torture and slavery."

"Who waits Outside?"

"The red-haired demons, the white-haired demons, the gold-haired demons, the blue-haired demons, and the darkhaired demons."

"How do the demons come? "

"Over the mountains and over the sea." "Who defends us from them? "

Thaile clasped her hands to stop them trembling. They were very cold. "The Keeper and the College." Now she was whispering also.

"Whom do we serve?"

"The Keeper and the College." "Who never sleeps? "

"The Keeper."

A longer silence, then the visitor said, "I am the Keeper." Thaile shivered.

"Well, child? Have you nothing to say to me?" "Where is Leeb?"

The Keeper banged her staff on the floor in anger. Then she said sharply, "Why did you refuse to go to the Defile as you were told?"

They had destroyed her memory, Thaile thought. They had stolen her away from her lover and brought her here by sorcery, and the Keeper had transported her back here from the mountains by sorcery . . . They were all-powerful! Why then did they not just force her to go to the dreadful Defile place if it was so important? And what did she have to lose now?

"Because I want Leeb."

"I never sleep," the Keeper said with a sort of dry contempt. "Do you believe that? Truly believe that?"

"Er, yes, ma'am." "Look at me, child."

Thaile looked up as a fragile hand lifted back the cowl. She gasped. The woman's face was wizened and shrunken, like dead leaves plastered roughly over the bones of her skull, but the scalp was smooth under silver wisps of hair. Her eyes were shrouded in wrinkles and so full of suffering that they were impossible to meet. They stared accusingly, questioning like the eyes of a tortured animal. Hastily Thaile looked away, shivering. The Keeper must be hundreds of years old, far older even than Great-grandmother Phain had been.

"Now do you believe that?" "Yes. Yes, I do, ma'am."

The Keeper sighed, and Thaile thought she replaced her hood, but she dared not glance up to make sure.

"You are the first to look on me for a long time. My name, when I had one, was Lain. I have been Keeper for seven years. How old do you suppose I am?"

"I don't know, ma'am."

"I am younger than your mother, Thaile!"

Astonished, she did look up then, but the Keeper's face was concealed again by the cowl.

"Child, I am the Keeper. I watch over Thume and I watch the world. I tell you now that there is a danger out there worse than all those demons you listed in your parrottalk. He is prophesied in our most holy lore-a dwarf. A gray-haired demon, if you like. He is the greatest threat that Thume has known since the time of Keef herself, a thousand years ago. His army has overthrown the wardens and usurped the Protocol, and even Ulien'quith could not achieve that. If he discovers us we are doomed, for he will assuredly seek to destroy us and even I have not the power to turn hirn away."

What had this to do with her? Thaile wondered. And why would the Keeper not speak of Leeb?

"You owe me your help, Thaile. All Thume requires your help. I ask you to go to the Defile tonight. Will you do that for me?"

That awful, leering gateway . . . "It is an evil place!" "It is a necessary evil."

"I want Leeb!"

There was a nerve-wracking pause, and then the Keeper uttered a sudden wry chuckle. "You are misguided, but you are most certainly not lacking in courage. Very well, I will make a deal with you, although I am the first of Keef's successors in a thousand years to stoop to bargaining. Yes, you loved a man named Leeb, and yes, he loved you, also."

Thaile felt a pang of doubt. "Loved?"

"He believes that you are dead, and he weeps sorely for you. But I will make you this promise. Walk the Defile tonight, as I ask, and tomorrow I shall restore you to him. I shall return your memories and remove his memory of seeing you dead. He will be lacking only a few days and will not notice."

Incredulous, Thaile stared at that mysterious hood, seeing only a hint of the crazily tormented eyes glinting in its shadow. "You will?"

"I will-if you wish me to."

So there was a catch? Of course there would be! "What happens in the Defile?" She remembered Mist's warning.

"You are given understanding." "Mist."

"Mist is a weakling. You are not. All of us in the College have walked the Defile at the full of the moon. Tomorrow you will comprehend why we do what we do, but if you still wish to leave the College and return to Leeb, then I will grant your request. I swear this by all the Gods. I swear it on Keef's tomb."

For a moment Thaile's mouth was too dry for speech. She nodded and finally whispered, "Thank you." She had won!

Won!

"Go inside now," the Keeper said softly. "There is a meal there, waiting. When the sky darkens, dress warmly and go to the Defile. The Way will take you. Do you want anyone to guide you?"

Thaile shook her head.

"I trust your courage, then. One warning you are given: Do not look behind you! I will meet you at the far end." Thaile watched the Keeper trudge off along the Way and disappear into the darkening woods. Then she rose unsteadily to her feet and went indoors.

She had won! Tomorrow she would meet Leeb, the man she loved, the man who loved her. She had won.

The way climbed steeply through the forest, unpleasantly familiar. Soon Thaile was again traversing the upland valley she had discovered on her first night in the College, the stony ground falling off steeply on her right and rising on her left, obscured by shrubbery and trees. The moon was bright through a hazy veil of cloud, and just knowing that she was supposed to be there made her far more confident than she had been the first time. The white path unwound before her feet, the sounds of a torrent below her grew louder. This time she did not try to turn back, so there were no bridges and no delays. Soon the gorge narrowed, the slopes becoming bare and precipitous; she rounded a bend and saw the gateway ahead already.

She paused, then, panting and yet chilled as the mountain air nipped through her heavy cloak. The light was different this time, the ruin less sinister, less distinct, more like part of the cliffs from which it sprung. She could not distinguish the illusion of a face in it. The arch spanning the ravine no longer seemed like a mouth. The empty windows above were not eyes, nor the stunted trees on top hair. She saw only a ruin of white stone--old and sad, but not threatening.

Reassured, she hastened forward. Even when she reached the arch itself, she did not falter or break stride. The exit showed ahead beyond a brief darkness that echoed with the roar of a waterfall in the depths. In a moment she emerged on the far side.

The gorge had widened dramatically. The moon shone clearly from a sky of black crystal, casting harder shadows. Off to the right, a small river cascaded down into unseen darkness but ahead the valley floor was level, and bare, flanked by cliffs. The Way continued, winding between pinnacles and slabs of rock; high on either hand great mountains shone as icy ghosts under the silver orb of the moon. There was no color, only paleness and dark and rare patches of snow.

She hurried on, soon losing the noise of the cataract, walking into silence. Even the wind had stilled, as if the night held its breath. She could hear nothing but the faint crunch of her feet on the gravel and the steady beat of her heart.

It would not all be this easy, of course. Mistress Mearn had admitted that the Defile was an ordeal. Mist had been frightened out of his wits. Yet the Way continued empty and level. The river had vanished completely. Nothing seemed to grow in this desolation except straggly tufts of pale grass, hardly darker than the snowbanks.

The corners were where danger might lurk. Flat though the path was, it zigzagged between the jagged monoliths, and she could rarely see very far ahead.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, said her feet on the grit.

The light was strange, an ethereal blend of silver and jet. Even the stones had taken on a transparent look, the shadows were indistinct and ghostly. Although the air was calm, it was bitterly cold on her heated face. Her breath came in puffs of rainbow-tinted fog.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

An ordeal could not possibly be so easy. She began to use a little commonsense caution, slowing down at each blind corner, edging around cautiously in case some horror barred her path. Always the Way was empty in the moonlight.

Leeb! Think of Leeb! Whoever you are, my darling, I am coming back to you.

How far would she have to go? The great peaks glimmered against the sky, unchanging. Surely the Defile could not take her right through the range, whatever range it was, because then she would be Outside, and pixies never went Outside, where the demons lurked.

She had argued with the Keeper! Talking back like an impudent child ... She paused at another blind corner, where the Way angled around a wall of rock. Hugging that wall, she peered cautiously, first one eye, then both. She saw rocks and dirt and a few patches of snow and the gravel path. Nothing more.

As she moved away from the wall, her shadow moved upon it. Out of the corner of her eye--

Two shadows!

She screamed and was running before she knew it.

She had not looked back! She had heeded the Keeper's warning! But out of the corner of her eye she had seen the second shadow right behind her own. It had been a trick of the light, hadn't it? Just dark streaks in the stone? Sticks ... the shadow of a tree maybe! But there were no trees.

She hurtled along the path with her hair flying and the air cold in her throat.

Cru-unch. Cru-unch. Something had changed in her footsteps. They did not sound the same. They seemed to echo off something right behind her.

At her heels.

Keeping pace. Cru-unch, cru-unch, cru-unch ... It was staying with her, at her back. Twigs. Weathered branches. Just a freak of moonlight-not truly bones! Do not look behind you!

She ran until a stitch stabbed her side and she could run no more. Staggering with exhaustion, she slowed to a walk. Nothing ran into her, nothing grabbed her. Over the thunder of her heart she heard those steps still there, keeping time, stepping where she had stepped, following right at her back.

There was nothing there, she told herself firmly, and knew that she lied. It was right behind her, close enough to breathe on her neck, if it breathed. Close enough to touch her, if it could touch.

Everyone in the College had done this, had walked the Defile. They had not been eaten by monsters! It was a trick to frighten her, an illusion.

"Who are you?" she shrilled, not daring to look around again.

There was no reply, no wind. Only her leaping heart, and those wrongly repeating footsteps.

"Tell me who you are!" she cried, louder. "In the name of the Keeper, tell me!"

This time there was an answer, but whether it was a sigh on the night air or only a thought in her head, she could not tell.

I am your guide.

"I don't need a guide! Go away!"

There was no reply, but she sensed that the wraith or whatever it was had not gone away. It still paced right behind her, matching stride for stride. She walked faster. She slowed down. Unseen, it clung like a shadow. She stopped completely, cringing lest something dry and hard should blunder into her. Nothing did. It was standing still as she was, waiting for her to move again.

It was nothing! She should spin around and she would see only the empty path behind her.

"You cannot hurt me!" But others can.

She still could not tell if that was a voice or only a thought in her own head.

"And I don't believe that, either!" Raising her chin, Thafle began to march, swinging her arms vigorously. "Mistress Mearn said she had come this way. Mist came this way. I expect Jain ca-" She stopped.

A shadowy shape stood in the distance, athwart her path. It was so vague that she could hardly make it out, a hint of moonlight and shadow against the rocks, the image of a man. It was illusion, a trick of vision like shapes seen in nighttime embers or in clouds by day. Yet the more she squinted and strained her eyes, the more definite it seemed to be. Sudden anger replaced her fear-tricks and illusions! The Keeper herself had commented on her courage. She would not let such foolery frighten her. Big, soft Mist, yes. Mist might have panicked at hints of shadow, but she was not going to. She was doing this for love, for Leeb.

She took two, or three steps more and the shape was clearer. She stopped again.

"Who is that?" she demanded.

It is a jotunn, one of the white-haired demons.

Her teeth chattered on their own for a moment, refusing to obey her. "Is it alive?" Maybe she did need a guide. It died in the War of the Five Warlocks. The voice-if it was a voice-was utterly devoid of emotion. No amusement, or anger, or sadness. Just answers.

A thousand years dead? "Then it cannot hurt me!" Thaile insisted, as much to herself as to the unseen presence at her back. She lurched forward shakily and continued along the path toward the thing ... the illusion.

If it was a trick of the light, it should fade as she drew nearer. It did not. It grew more solid, although it was still only a silver patch of brightness against shadows, a man in moonlight among the rocks. Against her will, she began to make out detail, a man so huge that her head would barely reach his chest. He wore a shiny helmet, and breeches, and boots. His flowing beard and mustache were the brightest part of him, except for his eyes. His eyes were watching her come. He knew she was there. He was waiting for her, starting to smile.