The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (40 page)

They rode out of the circle of tents and along the trail beside the Westbrook. They crossed the high, curving bridge, then stopped to wait for Kai. Baore took the opportunity to tighten the ropes on their packhorses, for they were going home laden with gifts. A Fael cart appeared out of the trees, the great horse lifting its feet high as though on parade. Up on the high bench sat Kai, and beside him Ufrra and the boy named Stillman.

"Kai!" Fynnol called. "Have you brought our map?"Tam remembered that Fynnol had once laughed at the idea of a map that would lead to hidden lands—but he seemed to have for-gotten that now. Tam would have to remind him later.

"I have brought more than that!" Kai said.

Out from behind the cart, on horseback, trotted Alaan, Thea-son, and Cynddl. They seemed more refreshed and joyful than Tam could remember, and they smiled and laughed to see their friends.

Kai passed a rolled map down from the cart. "That will be the shortest path to the Vale," he assured them.

"Do you see how Kai has risen in the world," Alaan said. "He would not take an estate from the Renne, or a house from Carral Wills, but this cart and all its contents were much to his liking. Bet-ter than a barrow, he thought.""I have not lived in one place or beneath a roof for more years than most can count. A Fael tent and this cart will suit Ufrra and me." Kai nodded to the boy beside him. "And young Stil seems to have hitched himself to our wagon, as it were, and we are glad of it. Now I can see the lands without feeling that I'm perpetually on my way to a slaughterhouse.""Where will you go?" Tam asked.

"South when the winter comes. There is seldom snow even this far north, but the winter is more agreeable by the shores of the great sea.""Come north in spring," Fynnol said. "I know just the place to pitch a tent in the Vale.""A long journey for a man of advancing years, but perhaps I might manage it. We'll see.""And you, Alaan?" Tam asked. "Where will you go now?""Into the Stillwater, to begin with. There is an enchantment there that needs my attention." He tugged the green jewel out of the collar of his shirt. "And the design for that spell is in here. Theason has agreed to travel with me, so I shall not go alone.""Beware, good Theason," Kai said, and not entirely in jest. "If you join the company of men who have traveled with Sainth, you might have a long life, but there will be no home for you." He ges-tured behind him. "You'll be lucky to have this."The little man did not seem to think this a jest. "Theason would consider himself fortunate indeed to live as the Fael do, but as you know, good Kai, his great joy is to see new lands. I shall be on the lookout for any plants that might ease your suffering."Cynddl dismounted and embraced each of the Valemen in turn. "None of us knew where the river would take us when we set out. It was not a journey without loss, but the gains, too, were great." He paused, and looked at each of them, his eyes glistening. For a mo-ment his voice eluded him, but then he spoke. "You three are the friends of my heart—my brothers in arms. You have each saved my life, and more than once, and I believe I have done the same for you. None but we four and the river know what we have been through. The story can be told, but a story is but an artifice. A great complex of emotions, events, thoughts, and deeds, distilled down to a mouthful of words. Like trying to imagine the river by listen-ing to a spring." He clapped Tarn on the shoulder. "I will journey north in the spring and visit you. Be well, and hasten north, or the snows will catch you."Alaan handed Tam a sealed letter. "For you, Tarn," he said.

The Valeman glanced at the hand and slipped it into a pocket. Shy Theason stood back while the men embraced, then mounted their fine horses.

"I would tell you to beware of highwaymen," Alaan said, "but it is the highwaymen who should beware of you.""There will be no highwaymen on the paths I have laid down for them," Kai said.

Reluctantly the Valemen spurred their horses and set off toward the north road. Fynnol turned in his saddle and called out.

"People will never know what you did for them, Alaan!"/"Nor will they know what you three have done," Alaan re-joined, raising a hand. "Fare well. Good speed, my friends. Good speed."They stopped to let the horses drink from a small stream, and be-neath the shade of a tree Tarn took out the letter Alaan had given him. His name was written on it with an elegant, almost old-fashioned hand. He took a long breath and broke the seal.

Dear Tarn:

Now that I am no longer a lady of property, I go off into the wildlands to take up my new position as nurse-maid to children unlike any who have lived before. Who better to do this than a woman who carries a sorceress in-side her?

I know it is not proper for me to say I will miss you, as we never arrived at an understanding, but I will miss you, and will not pretend otherwise. Eber tells me that people who have once found their way to Speaking Stone are often able to find it again, so if a desire for adventure should seize you… Of course you have likely had enough adventure to last you for some time.

I often wonder what course events might have taken had I not leapt from the bridge that night after the Renne ball. I feel, even now, that I had no choice, yet it is an act I regret above all others. Elise Wills ceased to be that night, and in her place appeared a creature, young and ancient, callous and caring. A woman divided against herself. But without the cold heart of Sianon I should never have man-aged the things I did. And it seems that heart is not en-tirely cold, for there is in it a warmth that always kindles when I think of you.

Now that I have broken every rule I was taught as a young lady, I will close. That is a part of me too —Sianon's disdain for the conventions of polite society. Where shall such a woman find a home but in the wildlands?

Yours utterly, Elise

Tam read the letter several times through., as he would every day during that long journey, extracting from the few words all the meaning that he possibly could. One phrase echoed in his mind over and over: 'we never arrived at an understanding1'. He did not think that any six words would ever cause him such confusion and regret. It was, he feared, true in every possible way.

Autumn in its copper glory spread across the northern forests, turning the world crimson and gold. Flights of swans passed south, stark against the high blue. Three riders leading pack animals came up the great road, wrapped in warm cloaks against the cool morn-ing air. At the fork to the stone gate the leader stopped.

"Let's ride out onto the bridge," Tarn said, and the others nod-ded, not needing any explanation for this detour so close to home.

In a few moments they were above the narrow gorge where the broad, calm lakes transformed into a racing river. None of them spoke. Tarn, Baore, and Fynnol sat on their fine horses and gazed at their surroundings: the rocks where they hid from Hafydd's guards; the tower by Telanon Bridge rising up out of the crimson trees; the old battlefield where they had unearthed a whetstone that had once belonged to a sorceress.

It had all begun there, where the rain streamed down from the mountains and formed a river to the sea. A river fed by a thousand springs and streams, that bubbled and whispered among the sunlit woods.

A silver haze hung over the river, floating the bridge on a thin cloud, and the sun glanced off the stone railings. It seemed too peaceful a place to be the wellspring for an adventure.

"Let's go home," Fynnol said, "and see if anyone remembers our handsome faces."They turned their mounts and rode back toward the stone gate. Over the clatter of horses' hooves Tam thought he heard a flutelike phrase off in the deep wood—a sorcerer thrush singing its way south—and he thought of Alaan, as he often did.

Fifty-one

Spring, borne on a warm breeze, flowed north from the sea, pressing back the snow and spreading a warmth of color across the lands. Not far behind, the black wanderers followed. The trains of horse-drawn carts appeared on the roads of the land be-tween the mountains, the exotic Fael playing music and singing as they went as though they were the heralds of spring and hope returning.

There was much news to be spread that eventful year. The Duke of Vast had been found starving in a herdsman's hut, and had taken his own life. A great tremor had been felt one night, shaking the earth with a sound like thunder. An act of sorcery, some said, but little ill came of it. Lady Llyn Renne had wed Lord Carral Wills, and she was with child. Though the stories that she had been seen for some time wearing a mask of gold, and that when she re-moved it, all her burns were healed, were not widely believed.

In early summer a company of Fael came up the north road and pitched their sculpted tents in the meadow by Telanon Bridge. When this news reached Tarn he saddled the horse that had carried him home, took leave of his grandfather, and rode out through the stone gate.

Cynddl greeted him as he entered the encampment, appearing younger than Tarn remembered, despite his gray hair and pale complexion.

"Tamlyn!" Cynddl called. "Have you come to travel the river?""Maybe one day," Tarn answered, "but not today."Tarn jumped down from his horse and embraced the story finder, pounding him on the back.

"You look well," Cynddl said, as they released each other.

"So do you. I think you've grown younger."Cynddl laughed. "It is the grey hair. No one can ever tell how old I really am. And how are Fynnol and Baore? Well, I hope?"Tarn touched a hand to Cynddl's shoulder. "I sent word to Fyn-nol, hoping you had come with the Fael, but Baore… Baore died this winter."Cynddl's hand went to his face. "He survived the swans' war. What could befall him in the Vale?""He fell through the ice crossing the lake one night. It was strange, as he knew the lakes better than anyone. But Baore had not done well after we returned. He sank into melancholy, and though Fynnol did everything he could to lift his mood, he slipped farther and farther into darkness."Cynddl closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope your people hon-ored him as he deserved," the Fael whispered.

"It was a funeral filled with silence," Tarn said. "Baore said little in life and we paid tribute to him in kind. Without a word being spoken, we poured Baore's ashes into the river, and they were borne away like a cloud on the wind.""I thought we were all safe after Hafydd went on the pyre," Cynddl said softly. "But Baore never recovered after he met the nagar. I would have done anything to save him, but sometimes a man can be drowning in sight and can't be saved." He turned away for a moment, mastering his feelings.

"I'm sorry to bring you this news, Cynddl."Sean Russell "Don't apologize. Bad news will find its way, my people say. It spoils my own tidings a little."Tuath appeared across the green then, walking toward them, a winter spirit not yet banished by the change of season. She smiled at Tarn and took his hands in the Fael way. Then she took Cynddl's hand in her own with both pleasure and familiarity.

Cynddl looked very happy and proud. "We wed on New Year's Day—""Beneath a canopy, in the snow," Tuath said. "We thought it would be appropriate, somehow.""Well, congratulations to you both!"Tarn said, shaking Cynddl by the hand and kissing Tuath on the cheek. "But will you still go about the world collecting stories?""We're Fael," Tuath said, shrugging. "It is in our nature to go traveling."A meal was set at the traditional, low table, where they lounged upon cushions. Tarn had almost forgotten how exotic Fael food was. Fynnol had once said that after Fael cooking, all food in the Vale tasted the same—mutton became indistinguishable from por-ridge. They ate and drank and talked of people they knew.

"Alaan hasn't been seen since you took your leave of the south, but Theason returned in the spring and reported that they found their way into the Stillwater, where Alaan spent some months studying the great enchantment before he remade the spell. When he finished, there was an earth tremor that was felt all across the south. Theason told us that Death is once again walled inside his kingdom.""And what of Elise? Has anyone seen her?" Tarn asked, hoping his inquiry sounded more casual than it was.

Cynddl shook his head. "No. But it has only been a few months since she went off to Speaking Stone."Tarn looked off to a group of Fael children playing on the grass, turning cartwheels and climbing trees. "It isn't the best thing for Llya and Sianon to live there in isolation. Children need others of their kind.""That's true, Tam," Cynddl said, "but there are no others of their kind. I think other children would shun them."After the meal Tuath excused herself, and Cynddl took Tam for a walk. Out of habit, they both carried bows and swords, though it didn't seem likely that they would be needed there. The afternoon was warm, the new green spreading through the trees, warblers swarming from branch to branch. Among last season's rotting leaves, fiddleheads curled up, and snow blossoms appeared, scat-tered over the brown.

"Tell me; how fares Fynnol?" Cynddl asked, as they walked.

"I think poor Fynnol has become a man divided, both wanting to stay here, safe in the Vale, and wanting to go back to the courts of the south. When he learns that you're here I think he might de-cide to travel south with you, back to the old kingdom.""Tuath and I should be glad of his company." Cynddl fell silent for a moment. "And you,Tam; how fare you after all your travels?""Well, I have not fared as poorly as Baore, but I will admit it hasn't been an easy winter. I suffer nightmares, and even in the day my mind strays often into dark paths—fighting the servants of Death in the Stillwater, standing before the final gate. I'm some-times idle, and care little if I eat or sleep or venture out into the clear air and sunlight."A look of concern crossed Cynddl's face. "I have found many a warrior's story, Tam, and I can tell you that few returned from bat-tle unchanged. Men of heart and conscience do not pass through that crucible unscathed. But most heal. Perhaps not entirely, but they do find a kind of health again. I have had Tuath and Nann to help me, or I should have suffered more, I'm sure.""My grandfather said much the same. It's been only a few months, after all. Wounds don't heal overnight.""Perhaps you should make a journey down the river. New hori-zons might draw your thoughts away from dark places. I'm sure Eber would welcome you at Speaking Stone, not to mention a cer-tain lady who dwells there.""I'm not ready to leave the Vale just yet. I have this strange feel-