Andre Norton - The Key of the Keplian

Cynan came down the stairs several minutes later. In the firelight she could almost believe him a warrior of the Nemunuh. His face broke into a happy grin as he advanced across the floor. He turned slowly.

“You have no need to worry. They fit well and they are warmer than any clothing I have had for more years than I would wish to number.” He straightened. “I will wear them to bid you farewell tomorrow. For now let us sleep; it is best to take the road early. That way you waste none of the day.”

It may have been a gift of the gods . . . they slept well and soundly that last night. Both had feared a wakeful night knowing this was good-bye. But their sleep was swift and their dreams kind. At first light both woke. Together they ate and drank in silence. Then Eleeri brought the horses and mounted. Beside her Cynan was dressed in the clothing she had made for him. She leaned down to take his hand.

“I will always remember you.” Her vision was blurred by tears. “I love you.” Her hand lifted. “For the feast you gave me, fair thanks. For the welcome of your gate, gratitude. To the ruler of this hold, all good fortune, and bright sun in the days to come.”

Cynan moved forward and as she leaned down, he reached up to hug her hard. “Ride in strength, warrior. May your weapons never fail and may Ka-dih bring you at last to a place befitting his daughter.” He slapped the pony firmly on its hindquarters and it started down the trail. As long as the road lay straight, Eleeri turned to watch him. At the bend, she lifted her hand and heard his final call echoing after her.

“Farewell, child. My love go with you.”

She rode on, tear-blinded, knowing she would never see or hear him again. Ahead lay an unknown future. Thus far she had prospered. What would her tomorrows bring?

She rode steadily while daylight lasted. By now she had learned minor spells, and with them she set up a secure camp. Gunnora was very similar to one prayed to by the Nemunuh, and Eleeri felt at home with the amber amulets and the lady. Holding her amber, she marched from corner to corner of her small encampment invoking the protection of Gunnora. The Place of the Old Ones might have vanished in the turning, but she now had her four pebbles from the ruins, a valued gift. In the half-light they glowed a soft comforting blue and she placed them with care.

To this routine she kept as the days moved past her. It may have been the amber, or the pebbles, she did not know. But she saw nothing more dangerous, as she journeyed upriver, than the occasional beast at its hunting. These she always bespoke in friendship. The only event of note was the appearance of a magnificent female falcon. The hawk was clearly hungry and Eleeri caught a brief mind-picture of a nest full of squawking babies. She grinned in sympathy, sending friendship and tossing up a plump rabbit previously transfixed by one of her arrows. The female snatched it out of midair with a sharp cry.

As she flew with her gift, a feather fell from her. Long, sharply marked in black and white. A prize. Eleeri dropped from her pony to gather it in. Tucking it into her headband and mounting her pony again, she sat straighter. There might be no eagles in this land she had found, but a hawk’s feather was good medicine, the more so since it appeared to have been a gift. She would wear it with pride, remembering her people.

Days slipped into weeks as she moved through the mountains. Often she was forced to backtrack when the trail she followed became blocked or simply vanished. But there was a growing sense that drew her always to the northwest.

It was as if she were wanted there, as if a calling grew louder as she traveled. She laughed softly at her fancies, but she held her course. It fitted with the small amount Cynan had been able to tell her of an ancient land new-found by his kin. She hunted as she went, sharing often with those of the wild. She saw a hunting falcon several times and each time Eleeri offered food. It was found acceptable, and while the birds would not come near her, she was clearly to be counted friend.

At last the river shallowed, narrowing even though the land was flatter. The girl began to scout farther from it across the broadening plains. It was on one of those side trips that she saw the village. She allowed the horses to graze while she studied it, lying flat atop a hill. Not a village, really, more one of those holds like Cynan’s. It seemed to consist of a main fortified building surrounded by other, smaller homes. Probably, if danger threatened, everyone retreated to the main protection. She’d be cautious. According to Cynan, they should be friendly, but it paid to be careful.

She called her beasts and swung into the saddle. Picking her way down the hillside, she allowed her mount to pace toward the gates. There was a considerable amount of noise coming from a fenced area behind one of the larger buildings. Over the babble of voices she heard the sudden blast of a furious horse, a whistle that rose in violent challenge. She made no attempt to resist that call, but kneed her pony around the building, there to halt in outraged fury.

Within a high-fenced corral a mare fought her captors. She was black as night, with a coat that gleamed in the sunlight. Behind her struggled a newborn foal, he, too, black, under the slime of birth. He fought to rise, but was as yet too weak to make his slender legs obey him. He fell again with a tiny squeal and the mare went crazy at the sound. Forgetting anything but the distress she witnessed, Eleeri raced her horses forward, almost trampling spectators.

Her voice rang out like a bell, “What happens here? What do you do?”

A dozen voices answered her. “A Keplian, lady. Gerae caught one of their mares.”

“Why treat her so?” She noticed that the ropes holding the mare from her foal had slackened as those who held her stopped to listen.

“Why? But lady—she’s a Keplian! ” the man before her spluttered. He seemed to think that was explanation enough. Eleeri did not.

“I don’t care what you name her. Is that any way to treat a beast? What evil has she ever done you?” She eyed the man who hauled hardest on the ropes. “Do you claim this mare attacked you? Did she slay kin of yours, threaten your child? For what reason does she pay, and her foal with her?”

The man fell back at the sight of her anger. “She’s just a Keplian. We kill them where we find them. They’re evil.” He straightened proudly. “Yes, they’re of the Dark.”

Eleeri was watching as the mare used the slackened rope to reach her foal with a comforting nose. “I see nothing evil here, just a mare who tries to protect her baby.” From the confused babble behind her she heard a short conversation.

“ . . . away from the hold.”

“ . . . gone to the valley. He’ll not return for days.”

“Then what do we do? This may be a woman of the power.”

The girl hid a triumphant grin. Their lord seemed to have gone away for some time. Already this bunch looked disposed to fear her, at least a little. She sent a mental command to her mount, and allowed her back to straighten slowly. Horse and rider seemed to loom now in a martial pose, awing those who gathered about her on foot. Slowly—portentously—she removed an amulet from her shirt pocket.

She dropped lightly from her horse, walking over to where the handlers still kept a strain on the ropes. Lightly she touched the foal on his wet nose. The amber brushed the small muzzle and glowed softly.

She held the amulet high. “Gunnora has spoken: There is no evil in this one. He has harmed none and must be freed.”

From the back of the crowd a man thrust his way. He was burly of build, with blond hair that glinted in the sun. He scowled viciously.