Диана Дуэйн - The Door Into Shadow

valley, the tiny combined force of the Arlenes and Darthenes nadone thousand years before — been hunted up against the cliffs of Britfell's inner side by Fyrd . Seeing them trapped there, the Shadow had taken a hand, climbing down out of the Peaks in the shape of the Gnorn, a form so fearsome that just the sight of it would kill.
Earn and Healhra, trapped together on a height near Brit-fell's end, faced with the slaughter of all their people, took the option offered them by the Goddess. They sacrificed their mortality to undergo that Transformation by which mortals become gods. Together, as White Eagle and White Lion, they attacked the Gnorn and destroyed it — slaying the Shadow and being slain, and leaving their people free to move north and found Arlen and Darthen.
There was hardly a child in the Kingdoms who hadn't played at Lion-and-Eagle and fought that battle in dusty vil-lage streets or empty fields. Segnbora had done it herself, usually insisting (for loyalty's sake) on being the Eagle to someone else's Lion. For Freelorn and Herewiss it must have been a little different, of course. The inventors of the game < had been the founders of their houses; their Fathers many times removed.
"Goddess help us if the Reavers are holding the mouth of the valley!" Freelorn said. "Probably they are."
He looked sidewise at his loved. "You should have let me buy those mercenaries, dammit."
"Lorn, the point of this excursion is winning back your throne, not having battles. And buying yourself mercenaries guarantees you'll have battles. Everybody in the neighborhood assumes you're going to start something with them, and so they start something first. Besides," he said, smiling wryly at Freelorn's exasperated look, "it seems there aren't enough mercenaries available right now to make a difference. Some-one else has been hiring. Cillmod."
Freelorn shrugged, still chewing his mustache. "You miss my point. What I mean is, I'm going to have a hard time getting into the valley to do the Royal Binding; that is, unless we try something obvious, like using Sunspark." "Where did you have in mind to do it?"
"Lionheugh."
That was the little island-height at the end of BritfelFs curve, well inside the valley's mouth,
"Since the Transformation took place there, it's favorable ground. Every place else has too much blood."
Herewiss looked grimly amused. "So all we have to do is get you past a whole army of Reavers, and probably Fyrd," he said. And keep you alive afterward.
Segnbora caught his worried thought, but Freelom merely raised his eyebrows. "Problems?"
"I think we'll work something out," Herewiss said in his lazy northern drawl. Under his hands Khavrinen swirled mo-mentarily with a confident brilliance of Flame, then died down again.
A hot whirlpool of air set dried grass smoldering on the ridge. The vortex darkened as if with smoke, spread horizon-tally and solidified into Sunspark's blood-roan shape. Here-wiss reached up to lay a hand against its cheek. "Well?"
(I found Eftgan's soldiers busy with more of those Reaver-folk we had trouble with at Barachael,) it said, pawing the ground modestly, and leaving a scorched place. (They're busy no more. I drove them back down into the valley to play with the rest of their people.) "Oh, no!" Herewiss covered his face with one hand. "Loved, I thought I told you to be circumspect!"
Its burning eyes were merry. (So I was. I don't need to show fire to burn something. Things just became, should I say, too hot for them?)
Segnbora couldn't suppress a chuckle, at which Sunspark beamed.
"Don't encourage him,"Herewiss said as he bent to pick up the saddle again.
(I did have a little trouble,) Sunspark added, in a tone of thought that said it was making light of the problem. (For some reason I wasn't able to make things burn as easily as usual. Something there was slowing one clown.)
Herewiss nodded, and kept his voice equally light. "We'll keep an eye on it. Well done, loved. Did the Queen have any word for me?"
(Yes indeed,) Sunspark replied, and said one. Segnbora exchanged amused glances with Lang, who stood beside her. It was not a word one usually associated with Queens.
Herewiss looked sternly at Sunspark. "Did you burn her?" (oh. . just a little. .)
Fastening the girths of the saddle, Herewiss kneed the ele-mental good-naturedly in the belly. It developed a surprised look, then a searing hot breath went out of it — whoof! Here-wiss pulled the girth tight.
"You and I," he said, "are going to have a talk later. Mean-while," he mounted up, "let's join Eftgan before the Reavers figure out that the, ah, heat's off.
The camp seen from above looked like any other bivouac that Segnbora had ever seen: squares set out with tents at their centers, picket lines of horses tethered nearby, men and women sprawled around campfires tending to their weapons or their dinners.
Britfell rose up a mile south, a looming blackness from which the occasional hunting owl came floating down in search of small game disturbed by the activity thereabouts. The owls weren't getting much business, though. It was a quieter camp than most Segnbora remembered. Evidently the Darthenesi, too, realized that there were forces about that it would be better not to disturb.
They passed the outer sentries and shortly thereafter were met by a dark-haired rider on a Steldene dun gelding, bearing a torch, the light of which danced off the bright chain of a.major,
"Torve!" Freelom said, pleasantly surprised. "Well met. You seem to have made better time than we did from Bara-chael."
"Barachaet's secure," Torve said with his usual calm cheer-fulness. "The Queen's grace wanted me here, so here I am. She asked me to bring'
you in."
"She felt us coming?" Herewiss said, sounding somewhat relieved.
"You were close," Torve said, his unassailable calm strained a little. "there have been problems with scrying of late." "We noticed."
The Queen's tent was little different from those that the rest of the army used — slightly larger, perhaps, but of the same patched canvas. All