The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (24 page)

Eber sat watching over his sleeping child. The child who had emerged from the river sickly pale, his lips blue—looking too much like a nagar for anyone's liking. But he was alive and sleeping gently as though nothing had happened, his natural color restored. Eber kept glancing over at Elise, who sat apart, wrapped in her Fael cloak. She might have saved Llya, but Toren thought you would not know it by the looks Eber gave her—as though she had violated his son in some way or turned him into a monster.

He had been kept alive within the river, Toren thought, kept alive in its dark depths. Many a man among them would have chosen death instead. Toren was not sure what choice he would have made. He was as disturbed by the arts as many of his less-educated men-at-arms.

The nobleman looked up into the night sky. Tendrils of dark cloud wafted over, blotting out the stars—smoke. It appeared to be growing thicker, and Toren feared the north wind was carrying the fire down upon them. He wondered what had become of his cousin. Had he been consumed by the fire? Poisoned by the smoke, for certainly they had only survived beneath the protection of the boat, and even that had been a close run thing. Poor Dease. He seemed to Toren to have been afflicted by ill luck since he had been struck by Beld. His whole manner had changed, as though he blamed himself for Arden's death. Guilt seemed to consume his life's fire. And now he was gone. Lost to the unfathomable river.

Orlem, Baore, and some others slid the first boat into the river to groans and halfhearted cursing. Toren walked over to see if he could lend a hand in any way, though he had no skill as a wood-worker or shipwright.

"The seams have opened up from the heat and from losing much of their pitch," the young giant from the wildlands an-nounced. "The other is no better. The planks will take up after a while, but I don't think we can bail fast enough to keep them afloat, now."Elise rose up from the shadow where she rested. She strode down to the water where the boats lay and stood looking at them a moment, her manner more imperious than Toren remembered. The shy girl of memory was gone, replaced by this woman who un-settled everyone—frightened them, in truth.

"Carry the other boat down to the water," Elise ordered, and she shed her cloak, letting it slide to the ground in a pile.

The other boat was borne quickly down and hissed over the mud as it splashed into the river. Without taking notice of anyone, Elise continued to drop her clothes onto the riverbank, and in a moment she had splashed into the water. There, she spread her arms and seemed to hum, her palms flat on the surface. At intervals she scooped up a double handful of water and splashed it into one boat or the other. The water where she moved her hands appeared to be-come faintly green and luminescent, as Toren had once seen in the wake of a boat on the open sea. The planking of the boats took on this greenish cast and glowed softly. The water in the boats receded, appearing to drain through the cracks between the planks, and in a moment the boats were bobbing gently upon the waters, glowing as though bathed in faint green moonlight.

Elise came out of the water, where Orlem immediately wrapped her in a cloak.

"Load the boats," the giant ordered as he supported Elise, who appeared weak, her knees wobbly. Orlem bent and scooped up her clothing, bearing her up the low embankment. In a moment the two returned, Elise dressed and tightly wrapped in her cloak, her gaze cast down and shoulders slumped, like one overwhelmed by fatigue.

The men-at-arms stood about the boats, no one wanting to step into a craft that had been bespelled. Toren could see the men, look-ing down, none meeting Orlem's eye. Toren stepped forward and shoved the first boat out into the water, scrambling aboard and tak-ing up one of the oars that had been found adrift. A'brgail fol-lowed, taking up an oar himself. Eber set Llya down in the bow of the other boat and climbed aboard after him.

Orlem turned to the men-at-arms, who still hesitated on the shore. "There will be no harm to any of you," he said reassuringly. "Do not fear." He pointed to the north. "But you will be hard-pressed to outdistance the fire on foot through this dense forest. Any who cannot bear to encounter the arcane arts might be better taking his chances with the fire. Before this journey is over you will see arts enough, that is certain."Reluctantly, and with many a measuring look to the north, the men climbed into the boats, taking their places, shipping the oars. They all appeared apprehensive but in a moment they were in the current and striking out for the south, in the wake of Hafydd, who had tried to kill them with fire. They were silent boats passing be-neath the stars, and still very faintly aglow.

Toren looked back, seeing tendrils of smoke reaching out to-ward them, but thinning and breaking apart before they could come so far. He dug in with an oar and thanked the faint stars that he had not been washed up at Death's gate. Not yet.

They traced a small tributary down from the hills and followed its turnings through the forest. A silent company: four men, one beneath a crowd of crows, and a Fael who was neither young nor old.

Late in the afternoon of the third day, they rode out of the wood into river bottom: gardens surrounded by tall lattice fences made of saplings covered the open valley. In some gardens, men and women bent over their plantings, but all rose to see the strangers riding through. Silently, they watched the outsiders pass, their looks ap-prehensive, though not hostile.

Half an hour brought them up to a small village, the houses of honey-colored stone, weathered and worn, the roofs densely thatched. There was no sign of paint. The door planks were weath-ered gray, window sashes the same. But everywhere there were flowers in pots and long troughs, climbing vines and trees in blos-som. It was as though the flowers had escaped the fenced gardens and were invading the village, and overgrowing it slowly. Men and women emerged from doorways at the sound of horses. They too stared silently at the outsiders. Children were captured by their mothers and sent quickly inside.

Crowheart's winged army swarmed from roof to roof, scolding the silent villagers, who shrank from them visibly.

"They are a friendly lot," Fynnol said to Tam.

"I don't think they see outsiders often," Tam answered. "Like our own people."In a few moments Alaan had led them down to a much larger river, where boats were drawn up on the shore. The crow army set-tled on the gunwales and on the ground, cawing raucously.

"Baore would like to see this," Cynddl said. "These boats are hollowed-out logs."Alaan dismounted and raised his hands, palms out, to three men who were carving designs into a newly made boat. None of the men answered, but only stared, the nearest stepping back.

"Do nothing sudden," Alaan said quietly to his companions. "Draw no weapons, even if a crowd forms." He turned to the three men. "I'm Alaan. I visited your village once before.""We remember you," one of the shipwrights said. "But then you traveled with a whist. Now you bring a company of enchanted crows.""You need not fear them," Alaan said, and smiled reassuringly. "We've come to trade horses for a boat."If Alaan had proposed "diamonds for dung," he could not have provoked a greater reaction.

They had not taken the best boat in trade—it was too large for their company—but very nearly. Horses, it seemed, were rare and highly valued to the villagers, and they were only too happy to provide a boat and whatever else the outsiders wanted. It was pretty clear to Tam that the man who traded for the horses thought he'd taken ter-rible advantage of the outsiders, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

The traveler divided the company into two watches, and each watch paddled turnabout for the rest of the afternoon, driving the boat south. They were, Alaan told them, on the River Wynnd, or one of its "many branches," and had a good distance to go. The sun plunged into a range of blue hills, and the stars appeared among scattered clouds that looked like plaster scraped over the sky.

"The moon is waning," Alaan said, "so the night will be dark. But the river is broad and lazy. I think we should try to make some leagues by morning. We'll give up paddling, but we'll have to stand watches. I think the greatest danger will be getting swept up to the shore and running aground, which will slow us—something we can little afford."Alaan organized three watches for the night: Tarn and Fynnol, Cynddl and Crowheart, and Alaan by himself.

Tarn drew the middle watch and made a place for himself to sleep, laying out his bedding and clothes on the floorboards, worn smooth by use. Settling on his back, he gazed up at the stars, the tar-black sky. The moon appeared late, drifting up from the eastern horizon, a thin silver crescent, like the night's earring.

He thought of Elise Wills, who, Alaan said, was on the river be-fore them. He couldn't forget the night they had lain in the grass, a soft rain falling upon them, though he had hardly noticed. Her kisses had been so knowing, yet at the same time she seemed as awestruck as he by what was happening.

She is both ancient and young, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes and felt desire course through him as he remembered Elise moving beneath him, remembered her cries of pleasure, choked off lest they be discovered. With these memories drifting through his mind as he fell asleep he was surprised to be wakened later from a very dark dream.

"Your watch," Alaan whispered.

Tarn could barely make out the traveler in the darkness. The moon had drifted into the east and was aground, and tilted oddly, on a small island of cloud. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the nightmare. He'd been drowning, but not in water, in some dark air.

"There is cloud in the south—quite black," Alaan said. "Per-haps a storm coming in off the sea. Be a bit wary. The river can be-come surprisingly rough in a storm."Tam roused himself and stood, surveying the night world: the shadow river, glittering here and there with stars and ribbons of moonlight; black embankments and vague hills; stars still thrown high against the night. Here and there floated thin ovate clouds, but in the south Tam could see the gathering storm Alaan had spoken of. Yet it did not look quite right to him. The clouds were dark, but high and thin, tingeing the stars nearby so that they appeared al-most crimson.

"Wake me if there is any trouble," Fynnol whispered.

Tam prodded his cousin with a toe. "Up, lazy Fynnol. There is a sorcerer adrift on the river. We dare not sleep.""Sorcerer be damned," Fynnol whispered in exasperation. "What has he to do with me? Let me sleep… just a little more."Tam prodded him again, this time not so gently.

"Tamlyn!"

"Up, or it's a bowl of water next.""Ahh!" Fynnol rolled up and sat digging knuckles into his eyes. "There. Satisfied? You have ruined my perfectly lovely dream. I shall never have another like it.""I'm sure you will have many like it," Tam said.

"No, I was so … adored. By everyone. Women wanted to shower me with favors—if favors can said to be showered. My every remark was repeated over and over. I could not go anywhere but people were courting me. Ah … it was a lovely dream.""Better than mine. I was drowning in some dark… air. I can't explain it. I was so glad to have Alaan wake me."Fynnol stretched his arms out. "Let us hope my dream is prophetic, and yours is not. Ooh! I'm sure this bed is much harder than the beds in my dreams. But then the beds in my dreams were padded with comely women, so I did not properly notice the mat-tresses. Hmm… Perhaps another visit to that wondrous place is in order.""Not for three hours, at least. We are on watch. What do you make of these clouds in the south?" Tarn could hardly see his cousin in the darkness, but was sure he turned to look down the river.

"They seem the ordinary type of clouds. You know, high in the sky, obscuring the stars. Admirably doing their job, I would say.""Yes, but they seem a little… odd to me."Tarn shrugged. "Per-haps you are right. Ordinary clouds. Alaan thinks it might be a storm coming in off the sea.""We could use a little rain, Tarn. I haven't had a bath or laun-dered my clothing in days. Do you notice how much we have come to be like the animals? Bathing when the rain falls or when we are forced to ford a river. Eating what we can catch. We have become a pack of men. Soon we shall have reverted to the wilds entirely— like the wild men of stories we heard in our youth, appearing one day out of the forest, unclothed, unkempt, snarling and grunting our idea of wit.""Worse things could happen," Tarn said distractedly, a shiver running up his back.

"Yes. We've seen it," Fynnol said, suddenly serious. "I shall never look at a river the same now that I have gazed across the final river and into the darkness beyond. Nor will I ever fall asleep without thinking of the claws of Death's servant snatching me up. If not for Slighthand I would dwell in the darkness yet—whatever that would mean. Do you ever wonder, Tarn, what lies beyond the final gate?""Anyone who is not a fool must wonder at sometime or other. But it is a futile endeavor. Even Alaan does not know.""Or so he says," Fynnol said softly.

Tarn looked at the shadow of his cousin in the dark. "What do you mean?"Fynnol hesitated a second, perhaps wondering if Alaan's even breathing meant he was asleep. "I felt there was something odd in his conversation with the swan lady. If stories are to be believed, she lived before Death made his kingdom. Back in the age when he was just a sorcerer. Death once loved her, Alaan claims. If anyone knows what lies within Death's kingdom, it is Meer. And who is Alaan but her grandchild—or at least Sainth was. There seems to be a quantity of family knowledge—kept from mere mortals—but known to the descendants of Tusival."Tam had not thought of that before, but had to admit that there was some ring of truth to it. He remembered the woman they had seen, changing into a swan and back, but beautiful and youthful still. How long had she been living there, in that dying wood? How long did it seem to her, to someone who did not die? "Did she seem mad to you, Fynnol?"Tam asked.

"No… no, not really. Not in the way that I've seen madness, though I can't claim any great experience in that matter.""She did not seem mad to me, either."The Valemen fell silent, the river spinning them slowly beneath the stars.

"Do you see that cloud?" Tam said. "Is it not drawing nearer? See how much more of the sky it blocks."Fynnol stared a moment at the sky. "I think you're right, though there is precious little we can do about it. We might find a hos-pitable bit of riverbank in the dark, but we're just as likely to find cliffs or a swamp. Maybe even a wood of stone trees, as we did be-fore. Who knows what this river will offer next.""You're right. We should stay our course till we have some light, which is still two hours off at least."But within the hour the smoke reached them, and it quickly grew thicker. Tam woke Alaan, and everyone was soon roused by the caustic smell.

Alaan stood, gazing off into the south.

"It is a big fire, I think,"Tam said standing beside Alaan. "Given how few people seem to live in these lands, I would guess it's the forest burning, not a village or a farmstead.""Yes, I'm sure you're right, Tam," Alaan said. "But is it a natu-ral fire?" Alaan found his sword, crouched, and pushed the blade into the river. For a while he stayed like that, still as a hunting heron. "Hafydd and Lady Elise are still some distance off and trav-eling more quickly than we." He dried the blade.

The eastern horizon began to brighten, and the sky overhead grew both lighter and darker at once, as their craft drifted beneath the cloud of smoke. A blackened land appeared around a bend in the river, the very earth charred to cinder, black skeletal trees standing here and there, many others fallen, misshapen stumps pushing up like arms broken and burned.

"Well, here is a scene of desolation," Cynddl said softly.

A lone bird flitted low over the dark earth, landing on a charred stump.

Whist, whist, it called.

"Yes, Jac … it is like a battlefield with death and destruction all around. One of many where Hafydd has ridden away unharmed, leaving devastation behind. And there will be too many more if he is not stopped, for he has allied himself with monsters, now.""Did Hafydd cause this?" Cynddl asked.

Alaan nodded. "So I would say. He tried to slow Sianon… Elise and kill her followers, though I think he succeeded only in the for-mer. Elise is not like Sianon. She will not sacrifice her followers for her own safety. Perhaps Hafydd knows this, too.""But she is alive… ?"Tam whispered.

Alaan looked at him oddly. "Yes,Tam, she is alive. Fear not."Here and there flames still flickered, finding some fuel on the dark-ened earth. A stand of trees, missed somehow by the all-consuming fire, burned slowly, flame climbing through the branches, which fell away one by one, spiraling slowly down like torches. No creature stirred in the bleak landscape. The companions stood up in the boat, gazing at the black hills, rolling back as far as the eye could see.

A shout surprised everyone.

"There," Crowheart said, and pointed.

A man waved from the shore. He was as blackened as the sur-rounding lands, his clothes smoke-stained, his face and hair dark as charcoal. The companions maneuvered their craft up to the shore, and the man limped along until he reached their landing spot.

i

"Alaan!" he said as he came. "Rabal! Tarn!" He stopped when he realized no one recognized him. "Dease Renne, at your service," he said, and tried to smile. "I daresay, I look a sight.""Lord Dease!" Alaan said, splashing ashore. "What has hap-pened to you?""I was separated from my companions," he replied, sitting down on an inky rock. "We had all gone into the river to avoid being turned to cinders. I let go my grip on the boat a moment be-cause the paint had bubbled beneath my hand and when I turned around, the boats were lost in the smoke."Smoke appeared to have worked its way into all the fine lines of his face, even into his pores. His hair was singed in places, as were his clothes, which were in rags.

"I don't know what happened then, for I seem to have lost con-sciousness. I awoke in a little backwater, lying in the shallows, fire all around me. The bank I was on was not so hot as the other, so I crept along through the shallows. Diving under to avoid the flames and heat. Going as far as I could, then surfacing for a few lungs of smoke before diving down again. I didn't expect to survive. It seemed like hours before I was out of the worst of it. I waited for the fire to move south before I dared follow, and even then I've stayed to the river, for the land is still hot, with pockets of flame be-neath the fallen trees and underwood. You step down, and flame erupts around you. Not at all safe for travel. I've been in the river, but it has not cleaned me, or so my reflection says. I fear I will be smoke-stained for the rest of my life.""You're lucky to be alive at all," Alaan said. "But tell us who you were traveling with.""Elise Wills and Orlem Slighthand. Your friend Baore is with them," he said to Tarn, "as are Gilbert A'brgail, Eber, and his son Llya. My cousin Toren. And Theason came to conn a boat. Some Knights of the Vow and Renne men-at-arms. Perhaps twenty in all, though I have fallen by the wayside.""No, you have just moved to the livelier company," Fynnol said. "It is an indication of your superior taste and judgment.""But how did you find your way into the hidden lands?" Alaan asked.