Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

“Let’s go home,” Fynnol said, “and see if anyone remembersour handsome faces.”

They turned their mounts and rode back toward the stonegate. Over the clatter of horses’ hooves Tam thought he heard a flutelikephrase off in the deep wood-a sorcerer thrush singing its way south-and hethought of Alaan, as he often did.

Spring, borne on a warm breeze, flowed north from the sea,pressing back the snow and spreading a warmth of color across the lands. Notfar behind, the black wanderers followed. The trains of horse-drawn cartsappeared on the roads of the land between the mountains, the exotic Faelplaying music and singing as they went as though they were the heralds ofspring and hope returning.

There was much news to be spread that eventful year. TheDuke of Vast had been found starving in a herdsman’s hut, and had taken his ownlife. A great tremor had been felt one night, shaking the earth with a soundlike thunder. An act of sorcery, some said, but little ill came of it. LadyLlyn Renne had wed Lord Carral Wills, and she was with child. Though thestories that she had been seen for some time wearing a mask of gold, and thatwhen she removed it, all her burns were healed, were not widely believed.

In early summer a company of Fael came up the north road andpitched their sculpted tents in the meadow by Telanon Bridge. When this newsreached Tam he saddled the horse that had carried him home, took leave of hisgrandfather, and rode out through the stone gate.

Cynddl greeted him as he entered the encampment, appearingyounger than Tam remembered, despite his gray hair and pale complexion.

“Tamlyn!” Cynddl called. “Have you come to travel the river?”

“Maybe one day,” Tam answered, “but not today.”

Tam jumped down from his horse and embraced the storyfinder, pounding him on the back.

“You look well,” Cynddl said, as they released each other.

“So do you. I think you’ve grown younger.”

Cynddl laughed. “It is the grey hair. No one can ever tellhow old I really am. And how are Fynnol and Baore? Well, I hope?”

Tam touched a hand to Cynddl’s shoulder. “I sent word to Fynnol,hoping you had come with the Fael, but Baore … Baore died this winter.”

Cynddl’s hand went to his face. “He survived the swans’ war.What could befall him in the Vale?”

“He fell through the ice crossing the lake one night. It wasstrange, as he knew the lakes better than anyone. But Baore had not done wellafter we returned. He sank into melancholy, and though Fynnol did everything hecould to lift his mood, he slipped farther and farther into darkness.”

Cynddl closed his eyes for a moment. “I hope your people honoredhim as he deserved,” the Fael whispered.

“It was a funeral filled with silence,” Tam said. “Baoresaid little in life and we paid tribute to him in kind. Without a word beingspoken, we poured Baore’s ashes into the river, and they were borne away like acloud on the wind.”

“I thought we were all safe after Hafydd went on the pyre,”Cynddl said softly. “But Baore never recovered after he met the nagar. I wouldhave done anything to save him, but sometimes a man can be drowning in sightand can’t be saved.” He turned away for a moment, mastering his feelings.

“I’m sorry to bring you this news, Cynddl.”

“Don’t apologize. Bad news will find its way, my people say.It spoils my own tidings a little.”

Tuath appeared across the green then, walking toward them, awinter spirit not yet banished by the change of season. She smiled at Tam andtook his hands in the Fael way. Then she took Cynddl’s hand in her own withboth pleasure and familiarity.

Cynddl looked very happy and proud. “We wed on New Year’sDay-”

“Beneath a canopy, in the snow,” Tuath said. “We thought itwould be appropriate, somehow.”

“Well, congratulations to you both!” Tam said, shakingCynddl by the hand and kissing Tuath on the cheek. “But will you still go aboutthe world collecting stories?”

“We’re Fael,” Tuath said, shrugging. “It is in our nature togo traveling.”

A meal was set at the traditional, low table, where theylounged upon cushions. Tam had almost forgotten how exotic Fael food was. Fynnolhad once said that after Fael cooking, all food in the Vale tasted thesame-mutton became indistinguishable from porridge. They ate and drank andtalked of people they knew.

“Alaan hasn’t been seen since you took your leave of thesouth, but Theason returned in the spring and reported that they found theirway into the Stillwater, where Alaan spent some months studying the greatenchantment before he remade the spell. When he finished, there was an earthtremor that was felt all across the south. Theason told us that Death is onceagain walled inside his kingdom.”

“And what of Elise? Has anyone seen her?” Tam asked, hopinghis inquiry sounded more casual than it was.

Cynddl shook his head. “No. But it has only been a fewmonths since she went off to Speaking Stone.”

Tam looked off to a group of Fael children playing on thegrass, turning cartwheels and climbing trees. “It isn’t the best thing for Llyaand Sianon to live there in isolation. Children need others of their kind.”

“That’s true, Tam,” Cynddl said, “but there are no others oftheir kind. I think other children would shun them.”

After the meal Tuath excused herself, and Cynddl took Tamfor a walk. Out of habit, they both carried bows and swords, though it didn’tseem likely that they would be needed there. The afternoon was warm, the newgreen spreading through the trees, warblers swarming from branch to branch.Among last season’s rotting leaves, fiddleheads curled up, and snow blossomsappeared, scattered over the brown.

“Tell me; how fares Fynnol?” Cynddl asked, as they walked.

“I think poor Fynnol has become a man divided, both wantingto stay here, safe in the Vale, and wanting to go back to the courts of thesouth. When he learns that you’re here I think he might decide to travel southwith you, back to the old kingdom.”

“Tuath and I should be glad of his company.” Cynddl fellsilent for a moment. “And you,Tam; how fare you after all your travels?”

“Well, I have not fared as poorly as Baore, but I will admitit hasn’t been an easy winter. I suffer nightmares, and even in the day my mindstrays often into dark paths-fighting the servants of Death in the Stillwater,standing before the final gate. I’m sometimes idle, and care little if I eator sleep or venture out into the clear air and sunlight.”

A look of concern crossed Cynddl’s face. “I have found manya warrior’s story, Tam, and I can tell you that few returned from battleunchanged. Men of heart and conscience do not pass through that crucibleunscathed. But most heal. Perhaps not entirely, but they do find a kind ofhealth again. I have had Tuath and Nann to help me, or I should have sufferedmore, I’m sure.”

“My grandfather said much the same. It’s been only a fewmonths, after all. Wounds don’t heal overnight.”

“Perhaps you should make a journey down the river. New horizonsmight draw your thoughts away from dark places. I’m sure Eber would welcome youat Speaking Stone, not to mention a certain lady who dwells there.”

“I’m not ready to leave the Vale just yet. I have thisstrange feeling, no doubt baseless, that I need to stay there to protect my people.Only Fynnol and I have fought in a war and understand how cruel outsiders canbe.”

Cynddl eyed him, weighing his words. “I think the Vale issafe, Tam. A’brgail’s Knights have secured the roads of the old kingdom, andnorth of Willowwand we saw only two families traveling north, probably insearch of gold and silver.”