The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (11 page)

"But there are many sights to be seen here: valleys famed for their beauty, lakes the sight of which would break your heart. It's a shame you'll travel only to the Wold. There's a great deal of beauty between there and the sea." He took hold of the map's edge as though he would roll it.” But to Valemen I'm sure the Wold of Kerns will seem far enough. You'll see more than most who live behind the gate, that's certain." He rolled up the map with quick motions, and Tarn shook his head, as though he had wakened from a daydream. A dream of the greater world.

They broke up their camp. Cynddl scrambled up into the trees with their water skins, claiming that he had found a spring that was far sweeter than river water.” As good as mead," he called as he disappeared.

Pynnol turned to Tarn, speaking quietly.” Why do you think Cynddl wants to go down the river?"Tarn shook his head, looking over at Baore, who had stopped his task and listened.” You don't believe he's trying to find the lost stories of the ancient kingdoms?"Fynnol stared up at the trees -wVvete tVvew ^&e\ companion \\ad disappeared.” No more than I believe that throwing coins into the river will keep you from harm."Cynddl came sliding down the embankment a moment later, their water skins over his shoulders. With one last look around, they pushed the boat out onto the green water and found their places. The current took hold of them and tugged them out into the flowing stream of the sunlit river.

Cynddl's thieving otter took up station behind them in the shadow of one of the banks and followed easily along, its sleek, soft face just breaking the surface.

"See how she comes slinking along," Cynddl said, "like a spy. As if we cannot see her." He laughed.” By road it is twelve days to the ford at Willowwand," he said.” How long will we take to reach there?""Five days, perhaps a bit more," Fynnol said.” The river has good speed yet, though the spring rains have passed. We'll see. If we needed to we could row, but we're in no hurry to pass through lands we've never seen before." He glanced over at Cynddl.” Or do you need to travel more quickly?"Cynddl shook his head, settling himself down on one of their bags.” Life speeds by those who travel in haste." He shaded his eyes with a hand and gazed off toward the shore like a man prepared to enjoy every minute of their journey.

But Tam noticed the Fael reached out a hand and made sure his bow was nearby. And he had lashed his bag in such a way that his sword would come easily to hand.

They made their camp on a treed point that kinked the river between two of the Five Gorges: First Gorge, the Valley of Clouds, Deep Gorge, Kuan's Race, and last and most dangerous, the Lion's Maw. The night air was still cool so close to the mountains so early in the season. Tam sat near the fire, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the river hasten quickly by. In the distance they could hear the constant conversation of the fast water flowing through the Valley of Clouds.” You said there were many stories to be found at the old tower," Tam said to Cynddl.” Did you learn of the battle?" The Fael story finder shifted where he sat across the fire from Tam. Between them ribbons of flame flared up, then fluttered to nothing in the still night air. "I was not there long enough to find a story complete." The Fael held his hands near the fire to warm them.” The name 'story finder' is misleading, I think. The training I received from my elders was almost all in the art of waiting, in patience. Stories come if you know how to listen. You don't dig them up in the way that you dug up objects from the old battlefield.

"The stories of men linger on. They echo in the places where they were told or where they were lived. Over time the echoes grow fainter, and sometimes parts of stories fade to nothing and are never heard again. There is nothing sadder than that.

"If you've learned the lessons of patience and you have the gift of hearing, stories come to you—in fragments, whole lines, feelings, images, sometimes an entire speech. Repeatedly, when I was staying in the tower I would have ... visions of parts of the battle. I kept seeing a small boy, and then I'd witness the battle through his eyes. I would see men I knew fall... my own father." Cynddl shut his eyes a moment and sat very still.” But there were other things as well. I began to have this faint image of knights riding over Telanon Bridge. Six of them, tired and scarred from battle. They were accompanied by no train, no equerries, no carts bearing stores, no relief horses. Six lonely knights riding in silence at dusk, pausing on the bridge to look up at the ruined tower. And what despair they felt! What anguish and regret. But listen as I might I could find nothing more about them. When I close my eyes I see them still, as though they are forever crossing Telanon Bridge, the tired clatter of their horses' hooves echoing over the river.

"It's a bridge that has seen a great deal over the ages. The first bridge at Telanon—for that's the old name of the narrows—was built more than four hundred years ago to carry the bounty of the gold and silver mines down through the wildlands to the north bridge, where much of it was taken aboard barges. That bridge was destroyed by the miners when the sons of King Paldon fought for the throne. Probably the destruction of the bridge tipped the balance in that war, for Prince Keln then had no gold to increase his army.” For almost two hundred years the Knights of the Vow kept a tower by the bridge and safeguarded the long trains of precious metals. But their greed undid them. They kept demanding more and more for this labor, and finally King Korrl forbade them to perform this service ever again.” One could never reckon the riches that have passed this way, and the produce of the farms in the Vale went to feed the miners and their families in the mountains. When the mines died the Vale became, for a while, a forgotten place. But the long rebellion of the princes against the kings sent many people north, hoping to find a place to escape the chaos.” And then again when the Renné and the Wills split the kingdom and old Ayr was brought to ruin in the hundred years war, many people fled out to the edges of the land between the mountains. Whole villages were torched then, and the people put to the sword for allegedly harboring the enemy or for no reason at all. The brutality of that time is impossible to imagine, but these old towns still bear their stories like scars. One can hear the screams echoing there to this day." Cynddl looked up from the fire, his jaw tight.” It's very odd that a bridge so far from the inhabited lands is so rich in history and stories." "Alaan sang us a song about the bridge," Baore said quietly.” It told of a child being spirited away and of a man who might have been a Knight of the Vow." "Ah, yes. That old song." Cynddl hummed a few bars, and Baore nodded.” I don't know about the Knight of the Vow, but certainly the story is true. The son of the Prince of Alethon was taken away from the battle and was never seen again. Many believe he was delivered to his uncle, who murdered him so that he might inherit his brother's lands and titles, but no one knows for certain."Fynnol was hardly managing to hide his mirth at this speech.” Are there stories lingering here, on this point of land?" he asked.

The Fael did not miss the glee in Fynnol's tone. For a moment he looked at the young Valeman, not in anger but as though he were some object of mild curiosity. Fynnol returned the gaze innocently.

"Let me tell you a story of the river," Cynddl said.” It has been speaking all the time I've camped by its bank." He drew himself up a little, the tendrils of flame lighting him with a warm, wavering glow.” It's the story of two brothers, Assal and Wirrth, and happened a long age ago. As young men, they journeyed into the wildlands together, seeking precious metals and gemstones. For many years they sought their fortunes among the hills and streams at the foot of the mountains. Wirrth came to hate the wildlands, which seemed to him to be concealing what they sought and tormenting them with false hopes. He believed their only hope of escape lay in relentless toil. To this end he would work from sunrise to sunset each day, but his brother, Assal, would lay aside his tools when he deemed his daily toil was done. Then he would walk through the wildlands, enchanted by the beauty of the mountains and the rivers and streams. Of an evening he would play an old harp and sing. Resentment grew between the two as their differences hardened.

"Despite this, neither could bear to be alone, so they continued on over the years, their hatred festering and growing. They passed their youth and middle years in their pursuit, and then one day, walking along a small stream at the foot of the mountains, Assal was lost in a thick mist. It was an odd mist, for certainly the sun shone strongly from above and lit the fog so that it glowed white and golden like a cloud at sunset. Before him something moved and Assal was afraid, for there were great bear and mountain lions dwelling nearby.

"But what moved before him seemed to be of the same substance as the mist, white and glowing. 'You seek gold,' came a voice that was like the muttering and hissing of old winds among the rocks and crags. 'I too sought gold,' it said. Assal was not sure if his ears were playing tricks on him, for surely this was only the sound of the breeze.” 'I can show you where the gold hides,' came the voice out of the mist. Assal found he couldn't answer—he was so afraid of this specter which seemed to be part of the mist. He thought he could see it now, almost human in form, with flowing white tresses. 'What is it you want of me?' Assal said at last, so frightened he almost didn't hear what the thing had said. 'Fulfill my bargain with the river and I will show you gold. Gold pure and glittering and easily taken.' 'What bargain?' Assal managed. 'Throw half of all you gain into the Lion's Maw and I will be released.' "Assal didn't speak but only managed to nod. 'Follow,' said the creature of mist, and there was a movement before him. To follow such a creature was difficult, for Assal could only see where the mists swirled as the creature passed. Up they went into the trees. For some time Assal followed, not sure where they were or where they were going.” Finally the creature led him to a speaking stream that chattered and burbled down a valley between the mountains. The mist seemed to recede then, drawing up the valley like a coverlet being lifted. 'Remember our bargain,' hissed the creature, and then its words were lost among the winds and the speech of the stream.” There, in the sunlight, Assal saw something glitter in the 'wjto, TsxssL^fcs^ W. prided. Q\JS. to lacsk, fetched from the running waters a nugget of the purest gold! He had found a stream that bore gold in both dust and nuggets.” He was a day finding his way back to Wirrth. 'Here, Brother,' he said, 'within my palm I hold all that we have dreamed.' And he showed Wirrth the nugget. Wirrth abandoned his toil and subjected the nugget to all the tests that he knew, and pronounced it true gold, but when Assal told him the story of its finding, Wirrth grew angry and sullen, saying that his brother mocked him or had perhaps lost his reason.

"The two climbed up to the stream and panned all the gold that their boat could bear: a substantial fortune. It tools some time and many trips to carry this down to their boat, for the way was difficult. They set off down the river from a place very near to where Telanon Bridge stands today, and soon came to the Five Gorges. Four they managed without incident though their boat was overloaded, but when they came to the last, they argued.

"Wirrth refused to throw any of his gold into the river, saying that Assal had succumbed to madness and this was what came of men who frittered their time away in fancy and idleness. 'You throw your half into the Lion's Maw,' Wirrth shouted, 'but I will not sacrifice the smallest part of my own to your foolishness.'"As Assal would not give up all of his share and Wirrth would give up none of his, they set out into the final gorge, Assal muttering beneath his breath. A mist hung over the gorge and the voice of the Lion roared so that the rocks trembled.

"But all the while they had been traveling Wirrth had been thinking, and his festering resentment of his brother came at last to a head. He had done all the work over the years. Without him Assal would have starved in the winters. And all this time Assal had mocked him and called him a slave to his toils, and worse. Assal did not deserve half a share of their gold, nor even a quarter.

"As they entered the Lion's Maw Assal knelt in the bow with a pole to fend off the rocks, and Wirrth manned the oars in the stern. As they were thrown first this way and that by the wrath of the river, Wirrth contrived to knock his brother over the side with an oar. Assal clung to the gunwale a moment, struggling desperately to pull himself up, but all he managed to do was heel the boat enough that it filled and Wirrth lost control of it. Assal was pulled down into the roiling waters, and then the boat rolled and smashed against stone and all its cargo was sucked down into the whirling waters of the Lion's Maw.

"Wirrth managed to survive by clinging to the wreckage, but he had nothing left but the clothes he wore and a knife on his belt. The boat was badly damaged, and he hadn't the tools to repair it. He went down the river on a makeshift raft, growing frail and sickly as he traveled. A fortnight you say to Inniseth, but Wirrth took twice that time. He never recovered enough to travel north again, nor would he tell any other where his secret stream lay, for fear that some other might profit from his labor. And so he passed away and the people of Inniseth committed his ashes to the river, where the story says he is tormented by his brother to this day.

"There, it would seem, is the origin of paying the Lion for passage." Cynddl shrugged off the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders and rose, stretching his arms up toward the stars.” I'll walk along the bank a bit before I sleep. Rest well, all of you." He gave them a nod that seemed more like a bow and stepped out of the ring of firelight.

Fynnol looked at Tarn and smiled.” Well, there you go, Cousin. A creature of mist once led a man to a stream full of gold and that is how we have the foolish custom of throwing good gold and silver into the Lion's Maw to pay for passage.""There is another story there, Fynnol-—the story of a practical man who mocked his brother for telling a fantastic tale of being led to a treasure. Who knows what treasures Cynddl might find as we travel along the river."Fynnol laughed.” Well, I'm glad to hear that. We could use a treasure, Cousin.""So we could, but I doubt you'll buy horses with the riches Cynddl finds."