Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

“Is that so?” the man wondered. “You’ve no weapons?”

Tam’s sword was lying on the raft, hidden by the bodiesstretched out.

“None,” Tam said quickly.

The man squinted at them. “And you’ve no belongings?”

“We had belongings,” Prince Michael offered, “but they werelost to the river farther north.”

The man’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “And have you silver?”

The occupants of the raft all looked at each other. “Thelittle we possessed went into the river,” Fynnol said.

The man laughed. “Well, at least you’ve paid for yourpassage. The river will let you go now. Pass on.”

The river sentries pulled back to the shore, and theoccupants of the raft took up the crude paddles Baore had fashioned for them,using their only substantial edged tool-Tam’s grandfather’s sword, which he hadgiven to the enterprise reluctantly.

The ungainly raft lumbered toward the shore, the fragranceof Fael cooking on the breeze and the graceful curves of their tents visiblethrough the trees. Near the low embankment, upon a round rock like the back ofa turtle, crouched a small boy. He stared into the waters and rocked gentlyback and forth. No adult seemed to be near, and the child could hardly havebeen more than four.

“He does not look like one of your people,” Tam said toCynddl.

“He’s not,” the story finder concurred.

“But we know that child!” Fynnol said. “Is that not Eber’sson-Llya?”

“He does look a bit like him,” Baore said, breaking hissilence for the first time in many hours.

Cynddl hailed the archers in the Fael tongue, and theylowered their bows, calling back to him with relief and joy. Tam could hear thecall spread back up into the camp, and though he didn’t understand the Faellanguage, the name Cynddl could not be missed.

The raft took the soft bottom and came to a stop, turningslowly, still pulled by the current. Tam and the others followed Cynddl ashore,but Prince Michael came reluctantly.

“You do not looked pleased to be here, Michael,” Tam said.

“I have been here before.” He looked at Tam oddly, a creaseappearing between his eyebrows. “I came to deliver a warning … from EliseWills. She had been aided by some young men from the north, and she feared fortheir safety. They traveled in company with a Fael named Cynddl. And here weall are together.”

“We received your warning, and we did heed it-in degree. Andlook, we’re all alive.” Tam gave a small bow. “So I thank you.”

Prince Michael bobbed his head.

The small boy, who had been perched on the rock, had fallenin beside them, almost running to keep pace. He stared up at Baore as though hewere a great wonder, making Tam smile despite his exhaustion and the events ofthe last few days.

The elder named Nann appeared, and beside her, in his longrobes, stood Eber son of Eiresit. His son ran and took hold of his father’sleg, peering out from behind the volume of robes.

“You are all safe!” Nann said with feeling. Her eyes closedto creases, and a small tear appeared. “Theason! You found them!”

“Theason found them, yes,” the small man said, not meetingher eye, “but he failed you, good Nann.” He met her gaze with difficulty, hisown eyes glistening. “Alaan did not escape the Stillwa-ter with his life.”

“But Alaan lives,” Nann said. “He came out of the river justafter dawn, looking like a nagar. But rest and food have restored him.”

Theason’s eyes glittered. “Thank the river,” the little mansaid. “Thank the river.”

They sat in bent-willow chairs beneath the spreadingbranches of a massive beech. Colored lanterns cast light upon the sombergathering of Fael and men. Tam still felt fatigue deep in the core of his body,a slight buzzing in his exhausted mind. They had eaten, but there had been notime for sleep before they were called to a council of elders. The lightheartedFael were somber that night: Cynddl, Nann, and several others. The outsiderswere battered and tired looking: the Vale-men, an unnaturally pale Alaan,Theason, Prince Michael-and to everyone’s surprise and relief-Rabal Crowheart,who had wandered into camp an hour before. Even the camp itself was subdued,the murmur of voices and the crackle of fires being all that was heard. Therewas no music or laughter, as though the appearance of the strangers had broughtgrief into the wanderers’ joyous world.

When everyone had settled, Nann nodded to Tuath. The visionweaver held a large, covered hoop, her white hair and skin, and pale ice-blueeyes stood out here among the dark-colored Fael, as though she were of someother race-a people that lived among the ice and snows of the distant north.

Tam thought Tuath was reluctant as she removed the cover ofher embroidery hoop, revealing her vision. Tam, and everyone else, recoiled atthe sight. The light exposed a partially completed creature, with ivory chestand belly like a snake, skin faintly scaled and somewhat blue, a serpent’stail, and, upon its four-fingered hands, dark claws. No hair could be seen uponthis thing, and its face was malevolently demonlike-though Tam would have toadmit that it was also quite human. It was muscled like an animal of the wild,lean and hard.

“What is that!?” Cynddl demanded, sounding like a man who’dhad the breath knocked from him. Tam could see the story finder’s eyes flick tothe thing, then away, as though he couldn’t bear to gaze at it too long.

“I don’t know,” Tuath answered, pale lips curling back in revulsionfor what she’d created. “We were hoping that Alaan might tell us.”

Alaan stared at this terrible portrait and seemed suddenlymore ashen, his lips tinged with blue, as though a nagar lay just beneath thesurface.

“Alaan …?” Nann prompted.

The traveler took a deep breath and leaned back in hischair. “A soul eater,” he whispered, then closed his eyes. “A monster. Only onehas ever walked the surface of the earth, created by a sorcerer from a spellgiven to him by Death-or so the tales say.”

“Why has this thing appeared to Tuath now?” Cynddl asked. Heslouched in his chair, and though he had eaten and bathed and wore freshclothes, water had not washed away his fatigue, nor had his clothes covered it.

“Because one will appear, I would imagine,” Alaan said. “Isn’tthat what a vision weaver does-sees things that might be?”

Tuath nodded, uncertainly, Tam thought. “It might already exist,”she said softly.

“Hafydd has made a bargain with Death,” Fynnol said, surprisingeveryone. “I–I saw it … in the tunnels. Hafydd found me and held a sword tomy throat, trying to find out what I knew about Elise Wills and her allies.” Helooked around at the others defensively. “Samul Renne appeared, and Hafyddspoke to him as though they were allies. I thought it was all up for me, but ashadow appeared … Not really a shadow but a darkness that seemed to pressback the light. Out of this darkness came a voice claiming to be the Hand ofDeath. Even Hafydd fell to his knees before it. The shadow offered Hafydd abargain. He could live for many lives of men if he would deliver two sorcerersto him.”

“Sianon and Sainth,” Alaan said.

But Fynnol shook his head. “Wyrr and Aillyn,” the littleVale-man said, causing Alaan to become very still and alert.

“These two are already dead-if they ever lived at all,” oneof the Fael elders said.

“That is not quite true,” said Eber son of Eiresit. “Theysleep, but they are not dead.”

“Nor are they alive,” Alaan answered. “Not in any way thatwe understand.” The traveler stared down at the ground a moment, his mannerstiff and grave. “Let me tell you a tale. A very ancient tale that even thestory finders do not know.” He pressed the fingers of his hands together andtouched them to his dark-bearded chin. “It began with a swan, a black swan whobecame known as Meer, and a sorcerer who was called Tusival. ‘Tusival FirstBorn,’ he was sometimes called. Like many creatures of that distant age, timehad little sway over them, and they lived on and on, year after uncounted year.