Andre Norton - The Warding of Witch World

Gruck was silent. But he took two great strides and caught Keris by the shoulder, drawing the young man back and away just as gleams of color showed among those buds and they opened into huge blossoms, from the centers of which arose puffs of yellowish powder.

Death ! With the giant’s warning in his mind, Keris was once more on the move. How practical against off-world weapons the giant’s powers might be, none would know until the time came for testing them. They might not have discovered the complete lock for that gate, but he was sure that what had been done here would win them some much-needed time.

They all felt the need for some communication with those who had sent them, but it was plain that Mouse, wan-faced, somehow even shrunken a little so that she looked even more the child, could not be put to the strain of a call upon those in Lormt.

They ate and then snubbed out their small fire. Jasta and the Keplians had drifted out again into the open land—of them all now, perhaps these were the best as scouts and watchers. They could hope that the aliens beyond the gate might very well have no idea that man and animal might communicate.

But this night only Mouse slept, if sleep she did. Perhaps she had been drawn into some trance state for renewing. The rest sat in a circle about the graying ashes of the fire.

It was Lord Romar who broke the silence which had held them as the night drew closer in.

“Gruck”—he nodded toward the giant, a hulk of denser darkness against the wall—“has given what he can of his talent to win time. Whether his barrier can hold against what those others can bring upon us, we do not know. But…” now he looked from one to the next of those about him as if he could see their faces plainly, “to ward for all time this gate… We are eleven. Perhaps eleven thousand would be a better accounting for such a task.

“Let us now list what we do have. My race has talents, strengths which can be drawn upon, but I do not possess the Power to focus such except in limited battle. My Lady”—he glanced at Eleeri, who had settled beside him—“has power born in another world and of a different learning. That she won freedom for the Keplians was such a feat as no other attempted.

“Denever has been entrusted with the weapon secret found at Lormt.”

“That much, my lord. But I am not of the Old Race and I have no talent except that learned in the fighting courts.”

“Thus do I say also,” Vutch growled. “I fought the dead of Gorm, and kept the Borders clear where I was sent. But all my Power lies in arms skills.”

Krispin cleared his throat, a sound not unlike that made by Far-wing. “Falconers are born to sword and shield, and to the fellowship with their birds. We do not deal in Power, though we have fought battles where it was used. But not by us.”

Keris’s mouth seemed suddenly very dry. “As you know, I am halfling, born to the Lady Dahaun and her Lord Kyllan Tregarth. I am of Escore, which is looked upon as the source of Power both Light and Dark. But—I have no talent.” He said it clearly, trying to hold his voice firm.

Suddenly he felt odd, as if he were under critical study—a strange insect, perhaps, in the custody of one of the scholars at Lormt who had a liking for such kinds of knowledge. He turned his head and found himself looking straight into the Alizondern girl’s eyes, which seemed to shine green even in the absence of very real light.

“No one knows”—her sharply accented trade speech cut through the dark—“what one is until the last lesson is learned. I was Liara Hearthmistress, Whelp Cherisher, of Krevanel. Among us magic—what you call Power—is a thing of evil so great that you cannot conceive of how we feel near it. Yet, I discovered that my brother has accepted certain magic and will make use of it. Then I made a discovery that my species has other tricks and faults—did I not draw the Gray Ones? Now I strive to forget what has been pushed upon me from birth—and I am still finding that Liara is not what I always believed she was. Think not of yourself, pack comrade,” now she said to Keris, “as one mutilated. Rather seek new paths not shadowed by the events of the old. You say you are without talent—does he speak the truth?”

Oddly enough now, her attention swung from him to Gruck.

What he has will come when there is need . The giant’s mind-speech was quick. Also as a Guardsman I have talents, which may be strange in this other world of yours, but in which I have been long drilled. Since I can no longer serve the Alatar as I gave my oath, I now serve your purposes .

Destree shifted a little away from Mouse’s bedroll. She had been holding the small hand of the sleeping girl and now she laid that gently back on the other’s breast. Her fingers then went to her amulet.

“This is the Lady’s battle also. There is a thought which might be of service. Tell me”—she spoke directly now to Eleeri—“I know that the witches hold open the lines of communication with Lormt. But is there one there also who is of the Lady’s following?”

Eleeri did not answer at once—rather, it was Liara who spoke a name. “The Lady Nolar. She is a healer and I have seen her light the Lady’s lamp.”

“Picture her in your mind, Liara. Make her features plain, even see her about some daily task!” There was excitement in Destree’s voice now.

They sat in silence. Keris found himself also striving to draw into memory she who was the life companion of Marshal Duratan. Anyone who had once seen her would never forget, for nature had cruelly marked her with a discolored cheek—a red shading which could never be banished.

“Yes…” Destree’s voice was hardly more than a breath. “So—I see her. Now—by the Lady’s favor”—she seemed to be addressing them all—“I will do here what should only be tried in a favored shrine. You”—now she spoke to Lord Romar, and then nodded in the direction of Gruck, and lastly to Lady Eleeri—“must be my guards this night, for if the ties are broken, the worst may fall upon us.

“I must lie entranced, and under the Power you can raise to cover me. However, it must be the Power of the earth, of that which the Lady knows—no magic from the learning of men.”

Denever had lit one of their very small camp glows in a far corner of the room and Destree was already unrolling her bedroll. Then she brought forth her pack of supplies and made careful choices, sniffing and discarding, adding a drop of one of her selections now and then to a bowl so small she could cup it in her hand.

When she was finished and had put away the package of herbs, she drew upon their supply of water and washed her face and hands. Then she beckoned to the three whom she had selected as guardians and they moved in, Gruck one side of the bedroll, Eleeri at the head, and Romar at the foot.

Holding high the bowl, Destree made her plea:

“Lady, we are in need. I am one of Thy lesser creations, You who have made our world bear life—but I ask not for myself but for that very life You cherish, since the Dark looms high and its shadow lies upon us.”

She drank the contents of the small bowl in a single draft, then stretched out even as Mouse so quietly lay, her hands folded on her breast over the amulet, and closed her eyes. In this very dim light she seemed to become one with the mat and stone on which she lay.

There was nothingness and then a blast of wind. But that was not sharp against her body; rather, it held summer’s warmth and the scent of flowers. She might be lying on a bed at rest—No! deep in her, something sparked. This was no time for rest. She had not asked for that, but for something so much greater that she feared her talent might not be such as to grant it to her. Find—she must seek and find!