Andre Norton - Horn Crown

She scrambled down from the altar to draw back, away from the creatures who snuffled and uttered cries, not of an entreaty, rather of bafflement and weak rage. I eyed the dark beyond the borders of the Moon Shrine. Though the crone had vanished from sight, I could not altogether believe that she had been so easily bested. Anything might lurk out there.

“Elron!” Iynne held the cloak close about her with one hand, now seized upon my arm with her other. “Get me away!”

“Presently. When I am sure there is nothing out there waiting for us.” I could not shake off the grip of her fingers. Holding the cup before me as I would a sword—for in this place perhaps it was a greater weapon than any blade, I edged still farther away from the altar, striving not only to keep in sight the two struggling beast things, but also to make sure that those who had stood by the other two pillars did not return to deny us passage.

There was an odd feeling of lightness, of emptiness, here now. Was it that I had won freedom—if only for a space—from the sorcery that had sent me to make a part in these labors? I could only hope that this was true.

Though Iynne kept still her hold on me, she moved without urging to match her pace to mine. We reached the edge of the shining pavement without any interference. I took one backward step, drew her safely with me, and then half faced around to stare into the darker ways of the night.

It took a moment or two to blink the glare of the Moon Shrine from my eyes, to see what lay in the softer light where those silver rays did not focus so brilliantly. Unlike the smaller shrine I had seen in the dale hills, this was not surrounded by trees or growing things but pavement, though not of the silver-white. Raying outward like the spokes of a wheel were low buildings also of stone.

I half expected to find life there, gathered to watch the ceremony my own coming had so abruptly ended. Nothing stirred. This was a dead place—a long-deserted place—in which only the shrine had life or purpose left.

For the first time Iynne dragged back, twisted away. It was my turn to take her in hold.

“Raidhan!” she called. “Raidhan? Where is she? Why is she gone?”

“Keep quiet!” I did not like the way her call was echoed hollowly back from those silent buildings about us. That we were really free of any company I could not quite believe, and my wariness was warning enough.

“Let me go! Raidhan!” Again she called, and, short of stuffing one end of the cloak in her mouth, I did not see how I could silence her. The cup I must still keep in my hand; I was beginning to trust it all the more than any ordinary weapon. Also I feared if I freed Iynne now she would run from me. I had no desire to hunt her among those dark and empty buildings this night.

“She is gone,” I made what answer I could. If that was the name of the hag I had driven out of the shrine with the Horn cup’s aid, then that was the truth. “Listen.” I shook her a little, to gain her full attention. “You saw those monsters by the pillars, did you not? Well, their like may prowl here. We cannot draw them to us.”

Her answer came fretfully: “I do not understand you. What are you doing here? Raidhan said that the god would take me, that his power was meant to be born again from my body. The Moon Shrine drew me here for no other purpose. That is true! The god came—he took me—”

I had to choose and quickly. “You dreamed. They must have drugged you and you dreamed! There was no god—the Moon Shrine is not his—” I could only hope that what I said was the truth. What had happened before I had been thrust into the midst of that ceremony I had no way of telling, but I believed that it had not been carried to its intended ending. Had those monsters in the temporary shape of men been summoned by the Dark to father on this girl some greater and more evil thing? That appeared to me to be the reason for the rites.

“Let me go!” She was twisting like a serpent in my hold. “You cannot know the truth! Raidhan told me—”

Luckily she was less strong than Gathea. Even with one hand I could hold her.

“If Raidhan was that black-cloaked bag of bones back there,” I retorted, “then she is gone. I would like to hope to some distance! It is best that we do also—”

She fought me hard; I was forced to thrust the cup beneath my belt and use both my hands. Then I managed to turn her, spitting and crying out against me as she was, and march her down the nearest open way, hoping with all my heart that her continued cries would not bring upon us some attack.

The road we followed was paved, while the buildings set along it were low, one story only, and small, with gaping, dark doorways, but no windows. Also the way under us slanted upward, past the length of thirteen buildings before we came to open ground.

Iynne had fallen silent at last; she was crying, sobs which shook her whole body. I could not think but that she was frailer than I had known her. Her body in my hold seemed to be slighter, and I thought that her dragging steps now were not from her desire to remain but rather because she was weak and tired. Then she stumbled and fell against me, so that her head came against my shoulder as it drooped, and I felt her go limp.

This might be a ruse. But I needed a chance to get away from this place of ill omen. So I swept her up in my arms, and went on, climbing up the road at the best pace I could hold to. We reached the rim of the valley and there I was forced to rest, letting Iynne from my arms but keeping her supported against me as I looked back down into that strange place.

The gleam of the Moon Shrine was still bright. But I could no longer make out the two caught against the pillars. Nor were there any other lights, or stirring, in all of that town. The buildings squatted dark and heavy and the roads running between them were open and free. Nothing moved.

Iynne’s heavy sobs had become sighs; she hung in my grasp as if all will and strength had gone out of her. I moved slowly, bringing her with me, to see now what lay beyond.

The road we had followed ran out and on, a dim white line, into the distance. There was moonlight enough, now that my eyes had adjusted from the greater glare in the shrine, to see that the country round about was well covered with vegetation. Trees formed copses, even a small grove or two. There was brush which cast pools of shadow I eyed with growing dislike. Too quickly my imagination could conjure images it was better not to see at all. Though the road might be watched by evil forces, yet at this time it was safer, I believed, than striking off into the open land.

“Can you walk?” I demanded of my charge. To go on carrying her, unable to use my hands for any sudden defense, was folly. Nor had I the least desire to remain where we now were, so close to the shrine.

“You had no right!” She struck out at me and the cloak half slipped from her body. She gave a gasp and caught at it clumsily, huddling it around her. “Raidhan will come—she will not permit you to take me.”

“Can you walk?” I dismissed her warning, for that concern was already on my own mind.

“Yes,” her assent was sullen. But if she thought that I would release her so that she might elude me to flee back to the shrine, she was mistaken. I kept one hand heavy and tight upon her shoulder, pushing her a little before me down that road.

For a time we went in silence. Since Iynne now gave me no trouble, I paid more attention to the fields stretching on either side, alert as I could be to any movement there. So far there was none, save that brought about by the wind which brushed the trees and swept across the ground growth in a steady whisper.

“Why did you come?” The question from my unwilling companion surprised me a little. I had come to think of her as a burden which must be borne, and not a living person.