Andre Norton: Horn Crown

Quaine was right. We did come, at last, to another indentation among the cliffs and so out into a dale which, though its sea entrance was narrow and it had no means of acting as a port, widened out well into a broad sweep of lowlands, now brilliant green with the grass of spring, such a fair country as even Lord Tugness could not fault. There his people turned aside, one of Quaine’s two men riding with them.

We made brief farewells since there was no friendship between us, only the fact that we were fellow travelers from the same source. I heard our fieldsmen comment upon the rich look of the soil, and express their hopes that we would be served as well when we came to our own place. But what mattered somehow more to me was that the Wise Woman also turned her cart into the way marked by Tugness’s heavier wagons. I was sorry to see that she had chosen to remain here rather than go with us.

Our own train, now reduced, rolled slowly on. Once more we camped upon the beach and this time the moon was veiled in clouds. This time I did not, when I took my watch in the early hours, see any cloud island offshore. Instead a wind drove at us, spattering salt spray at times, though we camped well about the waterline. The next morning the rain was once more upon us. The wagons found heavy work of it. Often we had to dismount and set our shoulders to the push, or fasten our mounts with extra lead ropes to add their strength.

We were worn with the fatigue of that fight against the land itself when we rounded once more a cliff wall and found a bay, much smaller than those farther south and menaced by reefs which showed brokenly in ledges out to sea, so that it would give little welcome to-any seafarers. But into it flowed a river and I did not need Garn’s hail to know that we had reached our abiding place.

The cart animals made a last pull, we lifted sheep, drove cattle up along the riverbank which ran for a short length between cliffs in which sea birds roosted, the rocks stained white with the droppings of many years.

Those winged ones wheeled angrily above us, voicing sharp cries which echoed even more loudly from the stone walls about. Then we were at last through that passage and came out into a land which seemed as fair at first sight as that which Lord Tugness had claimed. The sheep and cattle fell at once to cropping the new grass and we pulled up the wains by the riverside, for the moment content to rest and rejoice that we were at last in what would be our own land—clan land for us and our blood forever more.

I had fought my way up a steep rise where the rock bones of the land had pushed through soil which grew thinner until it only lay in pockets, sometimes enough to give rootage to coarse grass or wind-twisted bushes. Not until I reached the top of that cliff and felt the keener wind of the heights about me did I turn to gaze down into Garnsdale.

In the woods, which looked from here like a lumpy carpeting of greenery (for spring passed swiftly and leaves doubled in size overnight), I could see those openings where trees had already fallen to busy axes, to be denuded of branches and drawn down to that place which Garn had selected for a temporary keep.

Four of the wain horses were engaged in that transport. The other six were already at plows used for the heavy work of breaking thick sod to open ground for planting. There was constant labor to which each man and woman lent their strength, whether of lord-kin or field clan. I was free this day because it was my turn at patrol along the heights. For, as open as the land seemed, and as empty, still Garn did not take for granted that it lacked possible dangers. In addition those patrolling the heights were also named hunters and anything they could add to the pot was welcome.

Quaine and his two men had stayed with us for ten days and then had gone, heading back westward in a general sweep into the unknown. Even as I played sentry on the dale ridges, so were they to patrol the whole of the western borders, they and their brothers, sentinels and guards for all the new settled dales. One of their duties was to seek out and map for us any remains of those vanished beings we had begun to call the Old Ones, they who had left this land before our coming.

One reminder of them was placed above this very valley. Though it was unimpressive—according to Quaine— compared to those seen elsewhere, still it was a place each patrol warrior watched and made himself familiar with— as I was about to do.

I went in mail, helmed, carried my crossbow as well as my sword, almost as if I were indeed prepared to meet attack, though certainly we could well have come into a deserted world for all we had seen. Now I jumped a crevice in the rocks and turned westward to begin the prowling along what we all accepted as the southern border of our new holding. So few were our party that Garn could only detach two fighting men at a time for this duty and we were expected to provide him with a full report upon our return.

There was animal life to be found here. The wild creatures were not too different, save perhaps in color or size, from those I had hunted all my life. A species of deer, very fleet of foot, had used the dale for pasturage until our coming; now fled and seldom seen. However, there was also a creature which lived in the upper rocks, nearly as large as a new-thrown foal, but heavy of body. It had wicked claws and fangs and a temper to match so that one was wary in the hunt, but it was excellent eating.

Always there were birds, some brilliant of wing, bright flashes against the sky. Another species were black and somehow unpleasant to look at. Those roosted in flocks upon the trees, screeching in rage at our axemen. When they took to the sky, they winged westward as if they sped to report the devastation we wrought in what had been their stronghold. I saw them rise now and wheel once over the forest—then speed away just above the height of the ridge.

I kept close watch on what might come among these rocks. Roff had reported from his tour of duty yesterday that he had discovered odd tracks, deep printed in one of the pockets of earth, as if that which had made them had come to the very edge of the ridge and perhaps spied upon us. Save that the tracks were those of a large padded paw, as wide as his own hand. It might well be that he had found a trace of some native animal which was more dangerous—a hunter who would come hunting us.

Thus I had shed my boots before the climb, putting on rather the softer and almost shapeless foot coverings which hunters used, through which my feet could feel the surface of the rock as I went, making as little noise as possible. The air was fresh and clean, and I believed that it did carry in it the faint scent of growing things, sometimes even a trace of what might have come from wind-stirred branches of blooming trees or bushes.

That there were such here I discovered shortly, for there was a dip in the westernmost part of the ridge, and, advancing with caution to the rim of that, I looked down into a cup of land which held our own trace of the Old Ones. Trees hardly taller than my own head, but old, judging by the gnarled trunks and crooked branches, were set evenly spaced about a square of pavement.

Those trees were in full blossom, their flowers being of a creamy pink-white, large and nearly flat, the tip of each wide petal rimmed with a darker pink. Many of those petals, already wind loosened, had shifted down to lie upon the stretch of stone pavement. Though the petals lay there no grass clump had taken root, nor was there any trace of moss on the stones’ surfaces. Inlaid in the center of the square was a symbol in the form of a moon-shaped curve—this fashioned of a bluish stone, quite unlike that about it, which appeared to have a metallic sheen under the sun’s touch. Each corner of the square was also marked by a column which rose to near my own height. These were topped by bold carvings: a circle, and then half circle, quarter circle, and a dark disc of another sort, dead black, though the others were of the glistening blue.