Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

The giants stopped often to look at the ground, readinganimal prints,Tam guessed. They did not speak much, but kept their heads up,their eyes darting here and there, aware of all that transpired around them.

“Who are these people?” Tam asked Alaan, as they rode neareach other.

Alaan glanced at the massive men who led them, then seemedto decide that it was all right to speak. “The Dubrell are the remains of arace that prospered long ago, though even at their height their numbers werenot large. There are only two areas I know of where they still dwell;unfortunately, one of these lies on the shortest path to the place we’regoing. I’d hoped we might slip through before they were aware of us. They’renot a warlike people, but are suspicious of outsiders, whom they encounter veryinfrequently. We are thought to be bringers of bad luck-you heard what theysaid about my whist.”

“You have been here before,” Tam said.

“Yes. Once. I explored the route we follow now, thinkingthat I might come this way one day. They were not so lucky then-to catch me ina draw with enemies at my back. I eluded them. Apparently they haven’tforgotten, however.” Alaan glanced thoughtfully down the slope to the giantsmaking their way through the widely spaced trees. His handsome face was thinnernow, pale and slightly aged, though his dark beard was still neatly trimmed,his traveler’s clothes a little too well tailored.

Alaan went on. “Orlem told me that he wandered up onto amountain-centuries ago-because he’d heard a story that other Dubrell haddisappeared there; Dubrell who knew the ways of the wildlands and themountains. He went searching to see what had become of them, but instead foundhimself wandering in strange lands, much as happened to you on the River Wynnd.He walked into the beginnings of a war in the land between the mountains. Acompany of armed men, beating the countryside for conscripts, came across him,and he was taken into the army against his will. But his size and strength, aswell as his unexpected talent for war, brought him to the attention of Caibre,whom he served for many years-before he fell under the spell of Sianon.” Alaanglanced back at Tam, who had been staring at him, as though he could come tosome understanding of this enigma who called himself Alaan.

“But Orlem became your friend,” Tam said.

“He was the friend of Sainth, not Alaan.”

The sun sank behind the mountain, and a long shadow washed downthe slope, catching them like a returning tide. Dusk flooded among the trees,and they were soon squinting into the shadows, trying to see their way. But asthe giant had said, it was not far.

What Tam first thought was a cliff turned out to be a stonewall, and set into it, a large gate. One of the giants whistled an odd patternand overhead was heard the scraping of wood on stone. A square of lightappeared high up in the wall, and a few moments later they heard a deep thudinside, and one of the massive doors cracked open. The giant pulled it wide sothat it screeched on its hinges. The wolf pack bid their masters good-bye, anddisappeared into the night. Inside, a dark courtyard could be seen, lit only bya single lantern, a candle burning within.

“There is room for your horses in our stable,” the giantsaid. “If some of you will follow me. The healer should go with Wolfson.”

Alaan and Rabal followed Wolfson up a stone stairway, leavingtheir companions to tend the horses.

The giant took the candle lantern off its hook and led theminto the stable, which was occupied by a few large draft horses. The companionssoon had their own horses stripped of saddles and gear, rubbed down, and fedand watered. Tam thought that their horses would not likely see suchcomfortable housing again until they returned to the land between themountains. After a fortnight in the wilds, such a stable might look like acomfortable inn to him and his companions as well.

“Come with me, now,” the giant said, waving at the door. “Iam Stonehand.”

“I’m Tam, and this is my cousin, Fynnol, and our friendCynddl, who is a story finder.”

The giant appraised Cynddl with his large, surprisinglykindly eyes.

“We will take our supper soon,” Stonehand said. “If yourfriend can heal Arddu, then you shall share our meal.”

“And if he can’t?” Fynnol asked quickly.

“That is not for me to decide.”

They went up the stairs and through a tall door made of oakplanks thicker than Tam’s hand was broad. A small entry hall opened up beforethem, the woodwork rough but the feel of the place homey. They shed their mailand boots there, leaning weapons against a wall. After a hard day of travel andthe excitement and fear of their contest with Hafydd’s guards, the smell ofcooking food lifted Tam’s spirits.

Light spilled out of a door onto the plank floor, polishedfrom years of use. Stonehand led them through the door, and inside they found agood-sized chamber, well lit by candles and a fire in an imposing hearth. Coolmountain air flooded in the windows, for even in summer the nights were chillat this elevation. A few pieces of rustic furniture, of a size that made Tamfeel like a child again, were spread randomly about the room, and to one sidestood a long, high table, with benches to either side.

A rough blanket had been spread before the fire and on thislay the wounded wolf, panting, mouth lolled open and wet with drool. Crowheart,Alaan, and the other giant knelt over it, Crowheart washing the wound with adamp cloth.

“He will live,” Rabal reassured the giant, who was obviouslymuch affected by the beast’s suffering. “He will not be well for a few days,but he will live.”

“The blade sank into his gut,” the giant said. “How can helive?”

“He will live,” Alaan said. “If Rabal says he will behealed, he will be healed.”

The giant looked up at him. “Then he must be a sorcerer’s pupil,for Arddu’s blood loss alone would do for most animals.”

“Luck has smiled upon you today, for Crowheart was nearby,”Alaan said.

“Luck …?” the giant said disdainfully. “If not for you,Arddu would not have been wounded, for those men were your enemies, not ours.”

Alaan didn’t answer, for surely the giant was right, Tamthought.

Stonehand stood looking on, bent just a little to gaze downon the injured beast, the lines of his face deep with concern.

Crowheart began to sing or chant softly over the injured animal.He stroked the slick fur around the wound and scratched gently behind the wolf’sears. The words he sang could not be made out, but their meaning could almostbe grasped, though no quite.

Tam had a moment to observe their hosts. They were like toOrlem Slighthand in size-Baore might have almost reached Stonehand’s shoulder.Certainly they would be more than double Tam’s weight, and Tam was not a smallman. Their bodies were thick and muscled, and a little round about the middle.They appeared to have been rather crudely carved compared to someone likeFynnol, who was slight of waist and wiry as a weasel. Their faces werehalf-hidden by beards, and thick hair flowed down to their shoulders. Althoughhe would guess there was little vanity among these giants, their hair wasclean, and their clothes, though worn and mended expertly here and there, hadbeen recently laundered.

“I will be here all this night,” Crowheart said. “Break yourfast and leave me to my duties.”

Reluctantly, the giants gave way to Crowheart. Stonehandwent to the hearth and took the lid from a blackened iron pot that hung from ahook. His companion retrieved bowls and plates from a cupboard and set thetable. In a moment they were all seated, eating a thick stew and chunks ofdense bread. Stonehand rose to shut the windows, for the room was rapidlycooling.

The sound of howling wolves came to them through the glass,distant and eerie.