The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (12 page)

"They must curtain these windows to protect the tapestries from the morning sun," he said, thinking aloud, but Elise barely ac-knowledged that he had spoken.

Even the scenes in the tapestries seemed strange to him, filled with disturbing images, completely unlike the tapestries he knew that depicted legends of courtly love or famous battles.

Elise, it seemed, sensed his bewilderment.

"Vision weavers!" she said, as though it were an answer to a question. She glanced over at A'brgail, and his face must have reg-istered his confusion. "These are the work of vision weavers. That is why they look like dreams or nightmares."For a moment more she gazed at the strange images, then slumped into a chair and stared out listlessly toward the eastern horizon. A'brgail followed her example, finding the chair soft and welcoming.

A few moments later he was wakened by the sound of doors opening. Two young men and a young woman hurried in, bearing trays: water for them to wash themselves and platters of steaming food. A'brgail didn't know which he needed more, but decided that it would only be polite to first wash himself as best he could.

Elise did not wait to be asked, but plunged her face into a basin like an old campaigner. If the Fael were surprised by this, they did not show it. Their dark faces remained masks of polite-ness. A'brgail was impressed by how far the goodwill toward Car-ral Wills would stretch.

A'brgail retched terribly, bile welling up and burning his throat. Hands seemed to be supporting him while another struck him gently on the back.

"I think he's done," a voice said.

The knight tried to open his eyes, but the world was reeling, and he closed them again. He was lowered to the floor, where he lay still a moment, his position awkward. His hands seemed to be re-strained, as did his feet.

"Be wary. If she does the same, we'll have to cut the gag off."A'brgail was not sure how long he lay still, or even if he was con-scious the whole time; but when he opened his eyes again the world seemed to have stopped spinning, though his vision was blurred.

"What's happened to me?" he asked.

No one answered a moment, then a woman's voice was heard. "You've eaten something that didn't agree with you.""Why are my hands bound?""Because of the company you keep."A'brgail twisted around, trying to see the source of the voice, but his eyes came to rest upon Elise, who appeared to be chained to a stake, a gag tied over her mouth, and a pyre at her feet. Fael men stood by with flickering torches. Even with his vision blurred, A'brgail could see that they were frightened. No, they were terrified.

"You're making a mistake," he said, trying to muster his energy.

"It was not our people who made this mistake," the woman said. She came and crouched down before him.

"She wakes!" a man said quickly.

The woman reached out and touched A'brgail's brow, as though she tested him for fever. "We will deal with you by and by," she said gently.

Elise was given some time to recover, and when she had done so, A'brgail watched her struggle against the chains, veins standing out on her neck.

"I don't think even you will break such chains," the woman said. "I am Adalla. This is Idath," she said, indicating an older man. "And Tannis."A young woman nodded. Adalla regarded Elise a moment, her manner determined, but there was kindness in her face. A'brgail would not have wanted her judging him—she had an air of disin-terest about her that suggested leniency was not something she in-dulged.

"I will remove your gag," she said, "but be warned—if you begin to mutter or speak words we don't recognize, these men will set the pyre aflame and you, and the thing you bear, will be turned to ash. Do you understand?"Elise nodded.

Adalla signaled, and the young woman named Tannis removed her gag.

"This is not the usual Fael hospitality," Elise said darkly.

"For which we will make no apology," Adalla said, pacing back and forth before Elise. "We know who you are and what you've done." She nodded to the young woman. "Tannis is an accomplished vision weaver. She foresaw a woman making a bargain with Sianon, just as she and her sister saw the return of Sainth and Caibre." She turned and retraced her steps, hands behind her back, head bent as though she watched every step she took. "But then, as often happens, her visions became un-clear. Tannis saw Elise Wills becoming the defender of the peo-ples in the land between the mountains. She also had a vision of Elise Wills falling, her shadow taking up the sword against us, carving out a kingdom of her own, and making war—perpetual, brutal war." She stopped pacing and stood gazing at Elise. "Two visions. One will be true. One will not. If we set you free, will Elise Wills fight to defend us, or will the shadow inside you triumph and plunge the land between the mountains into a cen-tury of war?"Elise closed her eyes. "I don't know," she whispered.

"Lady Elise," the woman said with feeling. "That answer will not gain you your life.""Lady Elise will never give in to Sianon," A'brgail called out. "I am sure of it."Adalla answered without looking at him. "Men would give their lives to gain Sianon's favor. We can't trust your word, man-at-arms.""But I have traveled with her, watched her risk her life for others—a thing Sianon would never do.""I will gag you if I must," Adella threatened, and the Knight fell silent, frustration and anger boiling up inside him.

"Perhaps you should burn me," Elise said, meeting Adalla's eye. "I didn't know when I made this bargain what it would mean. What it would mean to have her memories… Sianon traded her heart for the love and utter devotion of those around her—""But have you done the same, traded away your heart?"Elise's eyes closed again, and tears appeared, trembling among her lashes like a drop of rain in a spider's web. "All I know is that I feel as though I did these things, sacrificed my loved ones without remorse, sent legions to their deaths. She once had a meal inter-rupted by the news that one of her armies had been destroyed—to the last man. She finished her supper, then spent the night with a lover, as though nothing had happened. I am sinking beneath the weight of these memories, of my own remorse and self-loathing. I am living a nightmare. Death might release me. I might welcome his cold embrace." Elise broke down then and began to sob, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"Set her free,"Tannis said gently.

Adalla turned to the young vision weaver. "Have you not been listening?""To every word. She will never give in to the monster she bears. She would die first. Set her free. That is my judgment."Adalla turned to the silent man who accompanied them, Idath.

"Tannis is right, I think. Sianon would never have urged us to take her life. Lady Elise will win this battle against the creature in-side. She is clearly the daughter of Carral Wills, giving no quarter to the darkness."Adalla nodded to one of the guards who stood nearby, and he began releasing Elise's chains. Another guard cut A'brgail's bonds, but he could not rise for loss of feeling in his legs and was forced to lie a few moments more.

Elise stepped free of the chains and down from the pyre, chaffing her wrists. "Would you have burned me?" she asked, con-fronting Adalla.

Adalla did not blanch. "Yes, though I would have regretted it all the rest of my days."Elise and the Fael elder stood gazing at each other a moment, then Elise stepped forward and embraced her, as though she were a lost loved one. "I hope you have done the right thing," she whis-pered. "I pray you have."

By morning the sun threw aside the covering of cloud and emerged full and round and filled with warmth. The birds sang songs to its grandeur and the high, green valley of the Dubrell sparkled with the night's rain. Beneath the sun the travelers began to dry, and by midmorning their spirits had lifted after the events of the previous night.

"There are no end of secrets here, it seems," Fynnol said, as they stopped to let their horses drink from a rain-swollen stream.

Tarn thought his cousin looked less haunted that day. It seemed to him that Fynnol had begun to think Death had singled him out and sought him relentlessly. But he had escaped the darkness again and now slouched in the sunlight beside the little creek. He almost looked at peace, as though he'd passed through the Lion's Maw again, and the river that stretched out ahead was slow and calm.

Cynddl stood on the shore, his horse stretching its head down into the cool waters. Gray-haired and pale, Cynddl looked like an outsider dressed in Fael clothing. He also looked much older than his thirty-some years—older than when Tarn had met him near Telanon Bridge in the far north, that was certain. The story finder stared into the waters, his face grim and his manner distant. Who knew what stories he found in such places? It seemed anywhere men had made their dwellings tales of war and treachery abounded. And men lived here, in this land of the giants. Men led here by Orlem Slighthand eight generations past: Knights of the Vow, it seemed. And now they wanted to return to the land of their ancestors. If they only knew what a place of strife that was!

"How far is it now to the border?" Fynnol asked. He rose to his feet and walked up the stream a few paces, bending to drink from cupped hands, the clear water dripping through his fingers.

"We will come to the edge of our lands tomorrow evening," Wolfson answered. "Beyond that we do not travel." The giant knelt on a rock at the stream's edge, as though someone so large could not easily bend down. "Where has the healer gone?" he asked. "Where is Crowheart? We should stay close together. These lands are no longer safe.""He went into the wood," Alaan said. "Leave him be. He is pro-tected by his guardian crows."A sudden furious cawing brought Alaan to his feet.

"Quiet!" he ordered.

The sound of a horse cantering sounded through the wood, and Alaan had a sword in hand. A moment later a rider appeared. He was the youngest of the men-at-arms who had found them the night before. His horse made a dash for the stream, and the young man sawed at the reins to turn it away. Winning the short struggle, he then almost tumbled off the horse from apparent exhaustion. Wolfson took the animal by its bridle.

Cynddl steadied the young man, who looked ready to drop.

"Don't let my horse drink too much," the rider gasped.

Indeed the horse was slick with sweat, wild-eyed and dancing back and forth. Crowheart came out of the trees and immediately took the horse from Wolfson, leading it in a slow circle, letting it drink a little, then walking it again. Almost immediately the beast grew calm and docile.

The young rider had collapsed at the stream's edge and drunk his fill. He sat back, his legs stretched out, hands out behind to offer support. His face was red, and he still gasped for breath.

Wolfson crouched beside him. "I fear to ask the reason you have ridden your horse to exhaustion, Wil. What has happened?""Men forced their way through the north pass. The men who were pursuing the strangers." He glanced up at Alaan. "They had knowledge of the arcane. That's how they drove the sentries back." He stopped to catch his breath, as though a few words had taken it all away. "My company are hunting them now, but there must be a sorcerer among them—""Hafydd!" Tarn said.

Alaan shook his head. "He has matters more important."The giant had crouched by the rider, but he jumped up now. "We should go back and help the Knights," he said, taking up his pack and swinging it in an arc over his shoulder. It thumped into place, and he groped behind for the other strap.

"We won't go back," Alaan said, and Wolfson turned on him, glaring down at the much smaller man. But Alaan did not blanch. "We won't go back," he said again. "Our task lies to the south.""But what of the riders?" Wolfson argued, still staring down at Alaan.

Tarn knew that he would have been intimidated under such a stare.

"You go, if you must," Alaan said, "but I can't afford to feel compassion for these riders. Not now. You don't know what's at stake." Alaan spoke to the others. "We must ride." But then he turned back to the young man, who still sprawled on the ground. "I thank you for your warning, Wil, but I can't help you now. My war is with the southern kingdom and its allies in all lands."Alaan put a foot in a stirrup and swung up into the saddle. The boy had gained his feet by then, and taken the reins of his horse from Crowheart. He watched as the strangers crossed the stream and faded among the trees.

"Come back for us!" he called, as they disappeared from his sight. "Do not forget us."For a moment Wolfson stood, one foot in the stream, the other on the shore, then he waded quickly through the water and pulled himself up onto the far bank. Tarn saw him look back once at the young rider, who stood holding his horse, watching the men go. And then the boy was lost to sight, and Wolfson came striding up behind, his face red.

A crow touched Tarn's face with the tip of a wing as it sailed by, then landed on its master's shoulder. Crowheart reached up and stroked its dark neck, and Tarn was sure the bird closed its eyes in pleasure.

Tarn glanced behind again. They forced their way into the wood without conversation, pressing their mounts at speed. Tarn could feel the tension in the company. Hafydd's minions hunted them again. For him and Fynnol and their Fael friend this was a return of the nightmare. They had been lucky to survive their journey down the River Wynnd, ignorant as they were then. They hadn't even known why they were being hunted.

The trees opened up, and they rode through tall grass, the tufts waving in the breeze, tapping the horses on their flanks. Tarn found himself behind Crowheart.

"Rabal?" he said. "Why have you come on this journey?"What he had wanted to say was, Why do you risk your life? but this had seemed impertinent.

Crowheart lifted his shoulder and brushed the crow off. It took to the air with a soft, cawing complaint. Rabal turned to look at Tarn, his black eyes peering out from behind the sea of dark hair, the bushy brows, the beard that grew high up his cheeks. "I come for the same reason as you, Tarn," he said, "to find out who I am." Crowheart spurred his horse and rode ahead.

Tarn had tried to answer, to say, But I know who I am, but no words had come.

"Keep up, now," came Wolfson's voice from behind, and Tarn pressed his horse on.

The giant had taken up this rear position, watching behind for the men who had forced the north pass. His great staff thumped the ground at each step, resounding like a falling log. Tarn had taken to listening, trying to find any noise of pursuing horses above the sound of their own mounts.

The sky appeared to thicken, a thin gray paste spreading over the high vault, uniform and oppressive. Wind came from the north, giving voice to the lands around. High overhead, eagles soared against the gray. Occasionally Tarn would see wolves trotting through the trees or the long grass. Twice they came upon herds of cattle being moved by a pair of giants. The cattle seemed to pay no heed to the wolves, to Tarn's surprise. The giants stared at the strangers and waved at Wolfson, who stopped to warn them of the riders—or so Tarn assumed.

An hour before sunset Alaan stopped them and built a fire among the trees on the crest of a hill. It was a good place to camp— easily defended—but when Tarn went to unsaddle his horse Alaan stopped him.

"We won't camp here," he said.

They built the fire up, raising a berm of dark earth around it to stop its spread. When this was done, Alaan led them on into the gathering gloom. They made camp in almost total darkness some-time later. No fire was kindled there, and they ate a cold supper of bread and smoked meat. Alaan picked the places for each man to make his bed—a small depression in the ground, the shadow of a bush—so that none was easy to see in the darkness. Watches were chosen, and Tarn drew the first, which he would stand with Crow-heart. How they would know the time to call the next watch Tam did not know, for the stars couldn't be seen.

"If we have fortune on our side, the men hunting us will find the fire and wait until it has burned low before they approach. That is what any wise man would do—wait until it is very late before they attack. By then it will be very hard to follow our tracks."Alaan had again brought them to a hilltop for the night, though this one was much larger—not a mound like the last had been. To the north there would be a clear view in daylight, though it was nothing but a sea of darkness that night.

Tarn strung his bow and put his quiver where he could easily put his hand on it. He and Crowheart settled themselves on the ground in a place where they could both look to the north and watch over their companions—had there been any light!

"I can see nothing," Tarn whispered.

"We shall have to trust to our ears this night," Crowheart an-swered. "But don't make enemies out of the wind sound, or the creaking of a tree."Easily said, Tarn thought, but he knew that when one listened hard enough every sound became a threat. Instead he found him-self fighting to keep his eyes open and slipping into near dreams, his mind wandering to fanciful things. Crowheart began to snore softly. Tarn reached out and put a hand on Rabal's arm, the leather of his jacket cool in the night—but Crowheart did not stir.

Tarn stood and gave his head a shake, moving his arms and shoulders to work the kinks out. The clouds had thinned, he real-ized, and hazy stars began to surface. A faint landscape began to appear: areas of darkness and dull gray. Tarn could hardly tell what might be hillside or wood.

And then he thought he saw a light flicker. Tarn rubbed his eyes and looked again. It wasn't a firefly.

"Rabal!" he whispered, shaking the man's shoulder. Finally, he tugged on his beard, and Crowheart stirred.

"There is a light below."

Crowheart scrambled up. Tarn could barely see him in the dark, looming to the right—larger and more solid than Tarn, like a mound of shadow. "I see nothing," Crowheart said, after a moment.

"No, it was there. I'm sure of it." Tarn searched the darkness, trying to find the flickering light; but after a moment he was no longer sure where in the massive darkness he had seen it.

For a long while they stood, staring into the night. Crowheart began to shift from one foot to the other. Even Tarn started to won-der if it had only been his imagination. And then it flickered again.

"There! Do you see?"

"A torch," Rabal said softly. "I'll wake Alaan.""No need," came a voice from behind. "Not with all the noise you two are making."Alaan came and stood to the other side of Tarn. The flame would flicker into existence for the briefest second, then disappear again for a long moments.

"I think Rabal is right—it's a torch. And whoever carries it is following our track. They might be giants, or the Knights who are their allies, but I think we should assume they are allies of Hafydd." Alaan stopped as the light appeared again for an instant. "They're not so far off. Can you wake the others, Rabal?""What shall we do?" Tarn asked. "Shall we saddle the horses?"Alaan was very still in the darkness, staring out over the valley below. "No, best to meet them here. The wind is in the north, so the smell of our horses will not reach them. We'll go down the hillside a little… and prepare a surprise for them."Tarn heard his companions stirring as Rabal found each of them in the dark. They pulled on boots and took up their weapons—weapons that had been set out where they would come easily to hand.

Fynnol appeared at Tarn's elbow, the Valeman recognizable in the dark by his size—the smallest of them.

He shifted about, unable to keep still.

"How many are there?" Fynnol whispered.

"I don't know. No more than we saw chasing us."Fynnol nocked an arrow, though clearly whoever bore the torch was still far beyond range of their bows.

"But was that rider right? Is there a sorcerer among them? Could it be Hafydd?""Alaan doesn't think it likely. Nor do I. Hafydd wasn't among them when they pursued us to the north pass. He couldn't have found his way into the hidden lands alone. He hasn't that gift.""I hope you're right," Fynnol said, his voice squeezing out of a dry mouth.

Cynddl came and instinctively stood beside Fynnol so that the little Valeman had a friend to either side. Tam could sense Wolfson in the dark, standing still as a mountain.

"We'll let them come partway up this slope," Alaan said. "There is a little break in the trees. Do you see?

That patch of gray not far below?"Tam was not absolutely certain that he did. He glanced up at the sky, where the stars stood out, cool and bright. Even starlight would help.

"Quiet now," Alaan whispered. "We don't want them to know we're here."Tam nocked an arrow and pulled back against the bowstring, getting the feel of it. His own mouth went dry, and his breath came in short, quick gasps. It did not matter that he had been in such sit-uations before, he still felt fear wash through him like a cold wave.

The torch appeared, flickering dull orange. Black, bitter smoke drifted up to them. Tam thought he could make out shadows mov-ing in the dull light—men and horses. A thought occurred to Tam.

"How do we know these aren't the knights who came to our aid?" he whispered to Alaan.

Before the traveler could answer, a horse nickered down the draw, and one of their own mounts answered.

The shadows below stopped, then scurried into hiding. The torch was doused.

"Does that answer your question?" Alaan said softly. "They will try to come upon us with stealth, maybe work their way around to the east or west.""To the west lie bluffs," Wolfson whispered in his deep tones. "Some might climb them by day, but not by night. If they find their way to the east, the hill will channel them up a little draw. Some of us could await them there.""We are a small enough company as it is without dividing our numbers further," Alaan said, and Tam could hear the concern in his voice.