Three Hands for Scorpio (22 page)

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Authors: Andre Norton

BOOK: Three Hands for Scorpio
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CILLA LAY STILL sleeping when we roused shortly after dawn. The sense of safety that had settled upon us from the Ward Mother suggested remained about us. I shook my sister gently until she opened her eyes and stared at me as if expecting someone else in my place. She followed me to the brook to wash face and hands as Tam joined us.
“I dreamed,” Cilla said suddenly.
“How could you escape it?” I returned. Cilla had had many dreams, and her night-seeings, which were always vivid, sometimes heralded in part future action.
Without answering my comment directly, she began to tell her dream. Tam stopped trying to bring order to her short hair and listened.
“‘Change to another body'?” she repeated slowly. “Could such a deed be done without permission of the rightful occupant of that body?”
We all shivered at that thought. If Tharn had somehow developed more Power, would he be able to perform such a spirit-rape? And whose was to be the body? These Gurlys raised no Wards. Ichon and his people had been led to their own deaths—of that we were certain, having heard Lolart's story. The old soldier was a man of greater perception than he appeared.
“Perhaps King Arvor.” Tam voiced the worst possibility, and her hands closed convulsively on her hair-bag. “We must ride—now!”
We did not have much to break our fast, only some of the musty meal made into a paste with brook water. Once more I doled out the Power herb mixture, though we could not long continue to use it, since too much would befuddle our thinking.
We had but four mounts to five riders. However, Lolart refused the offer of ride-and-tie that Tam suggested. This was a system conserving energy for man and mount. One person rode ahead and tied the steed, while the other followed on foot and mounted in his stead until it was tie-time again. Zolan, at whose ability with horses we had continued to marvel, made the offer a second time, only to be refused. Instead, Lolart took over the lead of the pack-ponies and departed with a stride that did not put him and the train too far behind.
The day wore on. We had filled our water skins before setting out, as well as eating our meager meal. But our repeated uses of the Power herb mixture
gave me times of giddy-headedness, and I locked my fingers in the edge of the blanket serving me as a saddle to secure balance. Luckily we kept to a pace hardly more than a walk.
If there were any other keeps hereabouts, we did not sight them. Climber no longer scouted before us, nor did he hunt this day. He had returned earlier from some venture limping on three paws. Zolan had drawn a long barbed burr from between two of the beast's toes, and I had applied such salve as I could to draw out any poison. Thereafter he shared transportation with his bond-mate, resting across the lap of the rider. When this proved impractical, Zolan rode back for one of the ponies and returned to us, installing the hunter on a pad instead of the bags that had hung on the pack-animal.
We each took turn scouting ahead. On my third stint at that duty, I saw the scavenger birds. They were cawing raucously and circling overhead. I could guess all too readily what had brought them, and I searched the ground ahead as well as I could by sight of bodily eyes alone. Their would-be prey was quickly located, for it was still moving: someone, either man or woman, was dragging along the ground a short distance ahead with visible effort. I would have ridden forward to aid but, though I had little liking for fighting, my father had trained us in tactics as well as weapons-play, and I knew that what I now saw might well be the bait in a trap.
Yet I discovered that I could not simply ride back, for should that one who yet fought for life lie still, the rapacious flock would be on their intended meal instantly. Even as I made my choice, a corbie, well-known as an enemy to any weak and wounded thing, launched itself downward. I saw an arm weakly upraised, then the limb crumpling as that defensive gesture failed.
The bird dodged the blow easily, then wheeled and returned, settling. Very faintly I heard a cry of fear and pain. I urged my horse forward.
As I drew level with the bird and its victim, I loosed my cloak and pulled it free. Two more eaters-of-death had landed. The mare threw up her head and neighed a challenge, but the scavengers did not rise. I whirled the cloak as a fowl-catcher would wield his net, and the birds circling low sheered away.
Then I was off my mount, beside the body that lay facedown. A raven sitting on the head, face turned from me, showed an open beak, threatening. Again I swept out the cloak, and the black scavenger rose sullenly to
avoid the flapping cloth. I saw no sign of the other two birds I who had also descended.
I dropped the cloak over the crawler, to give some cover if the carrionfeeders thought to attack again, wishing vainly for a proven snaplock. If I had been sure that no one lurked in hiding, I would have shouted; instead I Sent and was instantly answered. Until the others arrived, I would play sentry here.
N
ow a change began in that ever-growing flock of birds overhead. Only a few ravens wheeled above; more of the dark cloud were larger raptors—direhawks, those killers of the weak among the sheep flocks. Among them wheeled a sprinkling of other scavengers I had never seen before, with red-wattled heads bare of feather. They flew ever closer and bolder, and the thought came to me that they might have been set to this attack by some reason greater than any normal hunger.
Suddenly I felt a sharp stab of pain where my neck joined my shoulder. Without thinking, I used my hand to discover the source, and I cried out at the hurt as instantly my fingers, too, were torn. I pulled it back into my line of sight, burdened by an unfamiliar weight, and felt the thrust again. It was not a large raptor that attacked but a small bird, its claws set deeply into my wrist, that was striking furiously with a wickedly pointed beak between my fingers, tearing the flesh there.
Again I screamed. The meat-eater showed no fear; rather it raised a dripping bill, its eyes promising worse horror as I struck at it with my free hand. Fingers closed on feathers at the back of its head. I had to tear it loose, and I felt flesh rip away with it as I pulled.
Wings swished above; claws caught in my cap, by chance alone skimming past hair. The bird I had captured made no effort to escape but continued to attack, though my grip held. I twisted frantically, using both hands now, and finally felt the thing's neck snap. As I hurled the small corpse from me, I stumbled over the body beneath the cloak and fell across it. A second scavenger that had been ripping the wool of that garment raised its head to squawk.
My fall brought a muffled groan from the one who lay under me, and I hurriedly rolled aside. The shrouded form moved, the cloak bunching as I fought to regain my feet. Three more of the feathered devil-creatures were spiraling down on me now.
Without a weapon I could not hope to defend myself. My only chance—and it was a very slim one—lay in the hope that my companions were not too far behind. For now, I swiftly lay down beside the stranger, pulling the cloak to cover both of us.
The motion rolled the body onto its side against mine so I could see that I fronted a man. And bloodstained, cut, and torn as his face was, I knew him instantly.
“Rogher!”
It was my father's squire.
BINA'S SEND HAD speeded up our pace. We passed quickly over one of the rolling hills. Now we could hear cries sounding like one rusty blade drawn across another and spied an undulating blanket of birds that were tearing a moving heap on the ground.
Zolan matched my speed on seeing that horror, and he caught at my rein when I would have dashed down the slope.
“No!”
I aimed a blow at him. Bina was under that cloak—her pain and fear beat at me, and at this moment I shared all she was suffering.
However, Zolan held to the grip that had stopped me. At the same time, he answered the clamor of the birds. With his free hand, he held his bonetube to his lips, blowing through it as if it were a whistle.
He gave a second blast, even more shrill than the first. The screams of
the birds suddenly ceased. Two and three, then four and five, they took to the air again. At length the heaving bundle on the ground was free, for all its tormentors had returned aloft.
Now, however, having formed a smoky smudge on the sky, they headed towards us. My mare screamed in fear and tried to rear as I struggled to keep my seat. For a third time Zolan used his whistle. Amazingly, that night-blot of wings did not fly straight at us but rather past, still keeping in a flock, heading westward.
As soon as I was sure that this flight pattern was not some ploy to attack us from another direction, I was on my way. Zolan no longer tried to restrain me but followed fast. I did not call aloud to Bina, I Sent.
The cloak, now little more than a fringe of tatters, was flung aside, and our sister, her face showing a scoring across one cheek that dripped blood, watched me come. She did not get to her feet but remained where she was, with the head of the wayfarer resting in her lap.
I dismounted swiftly and hurried to her side. Her horse had disappeared ; doubtless the terrified beast had fled. She shifted a little, as I joined her, to show more clearly the face of the one she supported. Seeing him, a vast fear awoke in me. Such scavengers regarded eyes as a delicacy. If they had struck at his head—
He still wore his buff coat. It was torn and caked with earth as if he had reached here by crawling. A freely bleeding gash gaped below one eye—below, not through it, praise the Great One! One leg also lay at an unnatural angle and, as Bina shifted a little, he groaned.
Rogher opened his eyes and looked up at the one who held him. “Lady Sabina—” He moved his head a little to see me, and a confused frown crossed his face. With my cropped hair and men's clothing he did not know me for a moment. Then he actually grinned:
“Lady Tamara—what game play you now?”
Some of the tension eased. “Rogher, our mother, father—?”
“Behind me—half day, perhaps. I rode out—scouting. My horse—”
He made as if to sit up but fell back.
“Mallord is not here,” I said, needing to know more.
“He—stumbled,” he continued in a halting voice, “fell, like one—bullet struck.”
“Then came the birds?”
I was startled. Zolan had appeared behind me silently to ask that question.
“Yes.” The squire frowned, seeming to disbelieve his own memory. “They—
rained
down as if a black cloud shook them loose. My Mallord—”
His horse had been a cherished friend. Rogher had raised the mount himself from a foal and trained it, and astride it, had twice won races.
“Those accursed things went for him first. I—I crawled—to where there were some rocks—and they could not get at me.”
Zolan loosed one of the water bags from his saddle and brought it, approaching with care against any spillage. Bina drew Rogher farther up against her shoulder. As our father's man drank in small sips, Cilla and Lolart joined us.
The armsman looked down at the squire.
“'Tis out of nature,” he said.
“The birds?” I caught his meaning.
“Aye. There was ravens, but with them enemies to their kind—rawheads, strike-bills, and other death-eaters. Suchlike do not company together. This be known.”
Zolan, meanwhile, had gone over to Bina's mount, who had returned with sweat visible on her hide. He drew his hands down on either side of the head she lowered to him, and I saw her shivers lessen. Then he unbound the bag in which Bina carried her remedies and brought it back to us. As Cilla and I turned to take up the duties Bina usually held, tending both her and Rogher, he looked to Lolart.
“So those birds are never seen together? Then some mighty reason must have made them flock in company for attack this time.”
Lolart was quick to catch the thought behind the statement. More grimace than frown now distorted what we could see of his face.
“Someone is dealing with deep Dark Powers.”
Zolan nodded. “That much is manifest.”
Now he turned to me. “The Warding—it did not hold to protect Lady Sabina, or did it?”
Bina looked up as I drew a strip of torn cloth from Frosmoor's spoilage to bandage her hand. “It—it did not!” Fear could be plainly heard in her tone.
I sat back on my heels to consider this new danger. Then our sister spoke again in a calmer voice:
“Or did it?” She reached out her unbandaged hand and tugged at the slashed-to-fringes edge of the torn cloak. “I killed that bird; we survived. Perhaps the Warding kept the fliers from feasting. It is strong, yes, but what
it stood against was—and is—more powerful still.” She addressed Zolan rather than me, and he watched the sky now, looking away from her.
“Could those battle-birds have been called from the Dismals?” I demanded.
“Yes.” He added nothing to that single word.
Lolart stared at us both. Though he asked no question, I took Zolan's brevity of speech as a warning and inquired no further.
Now a decision had to be made. Rogher had not only suffered tearing from bird beak and claw but he had also broken his leg, probably when his mount fell. Bina, with our help, set the break, which was luckily a clean one. She then bound it with two lengths of wood cut from a sapling Lolart had found. However, the squire refused the herb she offered to ease his pain.
“We know now what will happen next,” he said. “I would not be muzzyminded if another attack comes.”
I reached over and drew the dagger Bina carried. A small ritual needed to be done to put Rogher under the protection of the Warding, if that barrier would guard; since the strike of the birds against Bina I could not be sure. I pricked my finger deeply with the point of the old weapon, and a bead of blood issued forth.
Placing the now-bleeding finger to our patient's lips, I ordered him to suck and swallow. Trusting in his knowledge of us from of old, he obeyed. This act of Power would temporarily tie him to our company by blood, and the Ward would draw him in also.
Now we lacked two mounts for our party, but Rogher could neither ride nor walk. So we made ready to camp close by, the squire being sure that the party from Grosper was not too distant. I knew that Mother would be able to pick up our presence without need for any Send, and to use such a Calling now, in the presence of the Dark Force that had summoned the birds, might betray us at once.
Cilla stewed a mixture of coarse meal and herbs over a small fire, and Lolart, with a well-thrown stone, brought down another leaper. Not to be outdone in the kill by any mere two-legs, Climber mastered his limp long enough to catch a second grass-bounder, a reckless young one.
After we had eaten, the old soldier spoke. “I ride scout.” The words were a statement, not a question. He rose and started toward the place where the horses grazed.
“No—” I stepped into his way. “Would you stir about and so give the Power that wants us another chance?”
“You said that we were under the Light's protection, Lady Tamara.” Again he stroked his cheek where the beard covered it, almost as if he unconsciously traced an old scar.
“If we stay together, yes,” I returned. Now I questioned Zolan. “Do you not agree?”
The man from the Dismals nodded. He had made no explanation of his own part in banishing the birds—if the vicious fliers
had
been birds—and I had no right to ask for what he did not offer on his own.
Lolart stirred restlessly. I knew he wanted to do what he, as an experienced armsman, believed was right, instead of sitting here to wait for what might come to him and us.
Diplomatically, Zolan assigned both the guard and himself employment. “We shall bring up the ponies; then let us see what is of true worth among the goods we carry. Our plan of playing traders may not come to pass, and we must not keep useless burdens on the animals.”
I took my turn beside Rogher while the rest of our party once more opened the bags and sorted through the loot of that long-ago raid, Zolan explaining to Lolart its source. Pain still showed in the squire's eyes. He began to talk feverishly, telling me all that had happened after it was learned we had vanished from Grosper.
“My lord—he had the ice-anger on him. He told the clan chiefs that, unless they aided in a search for you, he would believe the deed was a plot hatched amongst them all.
“Chief Starkadder—he made his son speak out before the company, then he drove away that Udo Chosen. He said the priest was a demon follower and the cause of what his son had done. And that lout's summoning, through Udo, of Maclan to do the actual taking was a cause of even greater rage to my lord.”
“The men of Grosper came with sleuthhounds, and we went on the track, but not before my lord sent a message to King Arvor, which warned him of what such a threat to the Lord Warden might lead our queen to do. Then our lord came back—and he was a man locked within himself, letting no one learn his thoughts. Our lady sent one messenger to the nearest guard and another to the Green Grove. She stayed apart for a whole day and, when she returned, she said that you all still lived but that some Power alien to hers raised barriers between you.
“News came to us from Kingsburke that fighting had begun there. The Chosen had taken over, and their leader had made Arvor prisoner. Most of the clans then set upon them. Men babbled of monsters and such mad notions, and we could get no true news of what was happening in that place. But both our lord and lady said a task awaited that must needs be done, and so we came riding.”
He ended, flushed and panting. I held the water bag for him to drink. Before it was more than midday by the sun, he was raving and had to be restrained, the fever leading him to believe that Father had summoned him and he must go. Lolart lent his strength to keep the squire from a struggle which might have undone Bina's tending, and she pressed a mass of wet, torn leaves against the bandages on his face until he lapsed into unconsciousness.
We strove to pile scoured-up turf and earth into walls of a sort; then Zolan used cloth drawn from among the loot to fashion a shade over Rogher. We saw no more birds, not even any of the hawks common to the air in these parts. Climber kept licking at his thorn-stabbed foot until at last he joined Zolan, who at intervals checked on the horses and draft ponies.
Waiting was far worse than traveling. No Send came to us, and we were certain that this in itself was a warning against trying to reach those from Grosper. Lolart, meanwhile, was busy with a hide thong he had sawed from one of the burden bags—a difficult job with only one of our rusted daggers to aid. At last he began searching about in the earth disturbed for our wallbuilding to produce five pebbles. We saw that he had now armed himself with a sling such as shepherds sometimes used, and he began to employ it at once. Five pebbles he released from the whirling hide loop, then retrieved them and tried again. His aim grew better with each throw, and I, intrigued, reached for another piece of hide to cut a strip of my own. A sling would be a new weapon for me but a weapon nonetheless.

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