Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

“There are only two of the big men,” Fynnol whispered toAlaan. “Perhaps we should rush them?”

“No, they have allies you’ve not yet seen.”

“Then we’re about to engage Hafydd’s men at close quarters,”Cynddl said, “and there are still ten of them and only five of us.”

Crows began to fall on the men, battering them with theirwings, stabbing at their eyes with sharp beaks. The company faltered but didnot stop.

Tam cast his bow aside and drew his blade. Here was a fighthe did not relish, even more so as their backs were vulnerable to these hostilegiants.

Something gray hurtled past Tam, followed by another. He wasknocked aside, and when he scrambled up, a pack of wolves was swarming over themen coming up the draw. The men fell back, trying to defend themselves withswords and shields. But there were twenty wolves, large and fearless, snappingand snarling as they dove at the men from all directions, even as the crowsfell on them out of the sky. The wolves clamped onto limbs with their greatfangs and refused to be dislodged.

“Don’t fire any arrows!” Alaan warned, as Fynnol raised hisbow. “These wolves belong to the Dubrell.”

Crowheart and Cynddl went to the suddenly skittish horses.

They might never have seen wolves before, but they knew athreat when they met one. Tam saw that Crowheart quickly calmed them. Theyalmost seemed to gather behind him, as though he were their protector.

Hafydd’s men were as disciplined as Tam expected. They didn’tbreak and run, but formed a tight circle, back-to-back, and made their way downthe draw, fending off the marauding wolves as best they could. The men weremuch bitten and torn by the time they reached the bottom of the draw, andthough they bared their teeth and shouted at the wolves, Tam could see howfrightened they were.

The sound of the wolves snarling and howling echoed up thenarrow draw, then silence. The wolves reappeared, padding back toward Tam andthe others, their heads held low. They eyed the strangers and growled, baringbloody fangs. Some were wounded or bloodied from their battle, and Tam thoughthe had seldom seen a sight so frightening. The hair rose on the back of hisneck. He lifted his sword.

“Offer no harm to these animals unless they attack,” Alaancautioned. “They’re all but sacred to the Dubrell; as valued than their ownchildren.”

But Alaan’s hope that they would not be forced to fight wasclearly vain. The wolves came directly toward them, their eyes unwavering andfilled with malice. Their growling and snarling grew louder as they drew near.

When only a few paces off, Crowheart walked out, putting himselfbetween the wolves and his companions. His sword was back in its sheath, andhis posture indicated a man at ease-not one who feared he might be torn apartin a moment. Softly he spoke to the pack, and the wolves raised their heads,perking up their ears as though they’d met a friend. They circled about theoutlandish figure, sniffing him, then licking his hands. All the while he keptspeaking to them in a soft warm voice, the words too quiet for Tam to make out.

Slowly Tam turned his head to find the giants above him conversingin whispers. One of them called out, and the wolves reluctantly torethemselves away from Crowheart. They loped up to their masters, where theycircled about, wagging their gray tails like dogs.

Rabal’s crow army washed out of the cleft in the rocks,rising up like a blot on the clouds. A few of the black birds detached themselvesfrom the vanguard and flew to Crowheart, landing on his shoulder andoutstretched wrist. There they cawed defiantly and preened themselves withnervous movements.

Tam tried to calm his breathing. The wolves, with theirbloody muzzles, suddenly seemed like pets, when a moment before they’d beentearing into the flesh of armed men. Several of the wolves were wounded andlimping. The giants crouched down and examined the hurts, their faces graveand filled with concern. One of the giants stood and performed a head count. Heset off down the draw, Tam and the others making way for him.

He stalked down the slope, his great arms swinging like treebranches in a gale. In a moment he was crouched over something on the ground. Hebore up a bundle of gray fur, carrying the wounded animal up the draw.

He passed the strangers without even a glance. The wolf hebore was panting too quickly, and bleeding from a wound in its side.

The giant turned at the top of the draw, where all the wolvesgathered around him. He looked back at Alaan and his companions, his mannerangry and grief-filled and fierce.

“Go back,” he said in a strange accent. “You cannot passthrough these lands. Go back while you still live.”

“I can heal their animal,” Crowheart whispered to Alaan.

Alaan stepped forward, his manner respectful but not cowed. “Wehave not come here to bring you trouble,” Alaan said. “And we are deeply sorryfor any that we have brought. But Crowheart can heal your wolf, for he has thisgift, given to him long ago by a sorcerer.”

Rabal glanced at Alaan as though he were about to protest,but he kept his peace.

The grieving giant laid his wounded animal upon the sparsebrown grass and spoke with his companion, their voices so deep they seemed torumble up from some tunnel into the earth.

“Who are you?” one of the giants asked, his voice drum deep.

He addressed Crowheart, but it was Alaan who answered. “Heis a healer,” Alaan said. “Rabal Crowheart is his name.”

The larger of the Dubrell crouched, stroking his dying wolf.He peered at Alaan a moment.

“We know you,” the giant said, long, deep vowels tumblingslowly out of a cavernous chest. “The whist is your servant.”

“Jac is no man’s servant, but he follows me all the same.”

“He is a bird of ill omen and not welcome here.” The giantglanced over at Crowheart, whose minions still preened themselves upon hisoutstretched arm. “But if the crow keeper can heal Arddu, we will be in yourdebt.” He turned and spoke with his companion in what, Tam realized, was not somuch a different language as an almost impenetrable accent.

“Bring your horses,” the giant said. “It is not far.”

The giant took up the wounded beast and led the way down themountain. Only one carried a sword-a blade as great as Orlem’s-the other wore along knife on his belt. Tam guessed that men this large did not worry muchabout enemies.

The Dubrell set a pace that the men found difficult tofollow, and they were soon back in the saddle, pressing their horses on, forthe great stride of the giants ate up the furlongs. Presently they were downamong the trees again, the forest growing more dense.

“Look,” Cynddl said, his eyes turned up to the trees thattowered overhead, their boles a dozen feet broad. “These are spruce-but unlikeany I have seen before. Giant spruce!” And then he stopped as a vista opened upbefore him: a broad valley, hazy and green, at its center a turquoise lake. Thestory finder pointed. “It is the forest cloud: the alollynda tree!”

Above the fabric of green, stood the round crowns of severaltrees that seemed to float over the surrounding forest. They were spring-greenagainst the dark color of the conifers.

“There must be twenty of them!” Cynddl said. “There can’t bea stand so large in all the land between the mountains.”

Tam did not quite understand the status of the alollyndaamong the Fael. Certainly it was not a sacred tree, as the silveroak had oncebeen to men, but the wanderers prized it above all others. Its wood was covetedfor faellutes and other musical instruments. Even the smallest, most simpleobject made of alollynda was accorded the highest value among the Fael. Alielhad told Tam that when an alollynda was cut down wandering companies of Faelwould gather and spend days preparing for the event. Three alollynda saplingswould be planted according to ancient teachings, though fewer and fewer ofthese had survived over the years. No one knew why. The alollynda had all butdisappeared from the land between the mountains, only a few still standing inthe most remote places, or on slopes where they could never be felled withoutbeing dashed to splinters.