Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

Prince Michael of Innes, Carl A’denne, and several Renne noblemenstood by, all still smoke-stained and grim. They didn’t look like men who hadwon a war.

“There is a rumor,” Prince Michael said, “that one of themen from the wildlands shot the arrow that brought down Hafydd.”

“It was Tam,” Fynnol said, making a little mock bow towardhis cousin.

Prince Michael did smile then. “The river didn’t bring youso far without purpose,” he said.

“Why did you venture so far south?” Fondor Renneasked.

“We agreed to take Cynddl a fortnight’s journey down theriver,” Fynnol said, “in exchange for horses, but we got … lost.”

“Lost on the river?” Fondor said, and he and the other Rennelaughed as though Fynnol made a joke. “Prince Michael tells us that you havefought many battles against Hafydd and his guards.” He made a little bow tothem. “You will always be welcome among the Renne.”

“And in my home as well,” the Prince said. “My estates arequite reduced, but I think I can still make you comfortable.”

They thanked the noblemen and settled aboard the boat. Thewatermen set out for the distant shore, angling up the river. A little breezeswept down the channel, and Tam closed his eyes and imagined that it carriedsome scent of home, of the mountains and the hay fields. He wondered what hisgrandfather would be doing in the late afternoon. Walking out to gauge thegrowth in the orchard, perhaps, or checking on his prized bees.

He could see the people thronging the bank and hear music beingplayed. Banners and streamers fluttered in the breeze, and costumed men walkedlike herons on high stilts. There was an atmosphere of holiday in the air.

“It seems like another world,” Baore said, staring. “Likesomeplace in the hidden lands that knows nothing of our troubles.”

“There has been pain enough,” Llya said softly. “Let therebe joy for a while.”

The men in the boat all shifted in their seats, glancing atthe boy. It seemed this new Llya would be as disturbing as the old-though in adifferent way.

Tam noticed three women walking along the bank, one nottwenty years of age. They wore dark gowns and black scarves over theirhair-widows. They went so slowly, as though time had changed its pace for them,while behind all was chaos and color. The young woman turned her gaze out overthe water and Tam imagined that their eyes met, hers soft with tears.

He remembered the man-at-arms they’d found floating in theriver with Tam’s arrow in his chest. It seemed like so long ago, and sodistant. Did his widow bear her grief with such dignity? Tam thought of all themen he had killed-so many he’d lost all count. He’d fired hundreds of arrows atdistant faces, never knowing if they brought a man down or missed their marks.He remembered the final river, an ink-gray artery running through the twilight.How many men had he sent into the darkness, and how long would they haunt hisdreams?

He shook his head and looked away, realizing that he wouldhave to brave his dreams because he was desperate for sleep. The Faelencampment was subdued. They were making preparations to have their archers return,for a company had crossed the river with Fondor Renne. Hardly enough to turnthe tide of a battle, but welcomed all the same. The Fael had given up theirlong held neutrality in the wars of men, and Tam wasn’t sure that was a goodthing.

As they were in the company of Cynddl, they weren’t requiredto explain themselves or what they wanted, and Nann, the elder, strode quicklydown to greet them. Tam still thought her the most un-Fael-like woman he hadever seen: practical and sober where the others were exotic and filled withmirth and mischief.

“Send word to Eber,” Nann said to a man standing nearby. “Tellhim his son is safe.” She crouched before she greeted anyone and gazed a momentat the two small children.

“And who are you, child?” she said to the girl.

“This is Sianon,” Llya said softly, causing Nann’s eyes togrow wide. “She came out of the dark land and doesn’t speak.”

“And you do, I see,” Nann said, glancing up at Alaan.

“It’s a long story,” he said in answer.

Nann stood slowly, looking a little unsteady on her feet. “Isee there is much to tell. Come, let us find Eber and remake his broken heart.”

The Fael did not look at them as they once had-like intruders-butsmiled and nodded to the strangers as they passed. There was palpable reliefthat Cynddl had survived. They did not want to lose their most gifted storyfinder and heir of Rath. A young woman brought him a bouquet of white flowers,which Cynddl received graciously.

“White flowers,” Fynnol said. “Does white signify love, orperhaps that you owe that young lady money?”

Cynddl smiled, his ancient face showing its true youth. “Redsignifies love, but we would never give red flowers after a battle where muchblood was shed. White flowers are often given to a story finder because theysignify high purpose and contemplation.”

“They will bring you wild roses, Fynnol,” Tam said, “signifyingno purpose and thoughtlessness.”

“Would you leave the wit to me, Cousin?” Fynnol said. “Ihave kindly left the heroics to you and try never to walk on your turf.”

“Is that what you do in the north?” Alaan asked, his moodlifting. “Neatly divide your areas of endeavor?”

“Yes, Baore gets feats of silent strength and loyalty;Cynddl ‘high purpose and contemplation,’ as you’ve heard; wit and the admirationof women are my province; and Tam, obviously, gets heroics, like the slayingof sorcerers and such.”

“Who does the common work?” Nann asked, “like hunting andcooking and gathering firewood?”

“ Cynddl! ” the Valemen all said at once, and laughed.

“And after he’s cooked supper, and cleaned all the dishes,”Fynnol said, “if we’re satisfied with his efforts, we let him tell a story.”

Eber appeared from behind a tent, striding toward them asfast as his ancient legs would go. Tears immediately appeared, and Llya sprintedforward and threw his arms around his father’s neck. For a long moment theyremained motionless, Eber crouching with his arms wrapped around the small boy,his eyes tightly closed, tears glittering in his beard like frost on snow.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Eber said at last, his voicebreaking a little.

“No, Father,” Llya said, his face still buried in his father’sbeard. “I knew just where I was.”

Eber’s eyes sprang open. Unwrapping his sons arms fromaround his neck, he gazed into the boy’s serious face.

“Llya,” he whispered, “you spoke …”

The boy nodded. “The whisperer in the river did it.”

“He gave you your voice …?”

Alaan crouched down so that he was on the same height asEber and his son. “Llya made a bargain with Wyrr-a temporary bargain. Wyrr wentback into the river, but he left Llya with a voice.”

Eber could not hide his horror. He gripped his son by theshoulders and gazed into his eyes. “He’s gone?” he said to the child. “Thewhisperer is gone?”

Llya nodded. “Yes, but he left his stories in my head.”

Eber looked confused.

“Memories, I think he means,” Alaan said, his voice full ofconcern.

“But he is only a child,” Eber said. “The memories of a sorcererwere never meant for him!”

“No, they weren’t, but I think they’ll fade in time.” Alaan’sgaze came to rest upon Llya. “I’m sure they are a jumble to him, withoutmeaning. From my own experience I know that imposing order on them is noteasily done. I think a child will just forget them.”

Eber clasped his son close. “Why did this have to happen toyou?”

“We had to trick the soul eater and get the jewel back,”Llya said, as though explaining something to another child. “Alaan had hispart, and Elise hers, and I had mine. And then I made a special arrow byputting it in the river, and Tam used it to kill Hafydd, who is also calledCaibre, and that is how we won the war.”