Robin McKinley - The Hero And The Crown

“Yes, I rather thought she was for you,” Luthe said. “Goriolo said I would know when the time came. Funny I did not think of her sooner; there can be no better ally against Agsded.”

“What—who is she?” Aerin said, holding the tip upright so the firelight would run like water down the length of the blade. “She is Gonturan,” Luthe said. “I—er—found her, long ago, on my travels in the—er—East. Before I settled here. Although I think it probable that she called me; there was no good reason for me to have been possessed of a desire to go haring off on a long journey East. I have never been a traveler by nature.”

“Called you?” said Aerin, although she had no difficulty in believing that this particular sword could do anything—jump over the moon, turn herself into a juggernaut, speak riddles that might be prophecy. “It’s a long story,” said Luthe. Aerin took her eyes off the sword long enough to flash him an exasperated look.

“I’ll tell you all of it someday,” Luthe said, but his voice carried no conviction.

Aerin said quietly, “I leave at the next new moon.”

“Yes,” said Luthe, so softly she did not hear him but knew only that he must agree; and Gonturan slid like silk into her scabbard. They stood not looking at anything, and at last Aerin said lightly, “It is as well to have a sword; and I left mine in the City, for it is sworn to the king and the king’s business; although if Arlbeth knew of Agsded he must admit that Agsded is king’s business.”

Luthe said, “He would; but he would never admit that it was your business, even if he knew all the story. Arlbeth is a worthy man but, um, traditional. But Gonturan goes with you, and Gonturan is better than a platoon of Damarian cavalry.”

“And easier to feed,” said Aerin.

“North you must go,” said Luthe. “North and east, I think you will find the way.”

Talat stood still while Aerin tied the last bundles behind his saddle, but his ears spoke of his impatience. It’s been a pleasant sojourn, they said, and we would be happy to return someday; but it’s high time we were off now.

Aerin gave a final tug on a strap and then turned to Luthe. He stood next to one of the pillars before his hall. She stared fixedly at the open neck of his tunic so she need not see how the young spring sunlight danced in his hair; but she found herself watching a rapid little pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, and so she shifted her attention to his left shoulder. “Good-bye,” she said. “Thanks. Um.”

The arm attached to the shoulder she was staring at reached out toward her, and she was so absorbed in not thinking about anything that its hand had seized her chin before she thought to flinch away. The hand exerted upward force and her neck reluctantly bent back, but her eyes stuck on his chin and stayed there.

“Hey,” said Luthe. “This is me, remember? You aren’t allowed to pretend I don’t exist until after you leave my mountain.”

She raised her eyes and met his; blue eyes smiled into veiled green ones. He dropped his hand and said lightly, “Very well, have it your way. I don’t exist.”

She had already turned away, but she turned back at that, and his arms closed around her, and so they stood, while the sun shone down on their two motionless figures and one impatient stallion.

Aerin broke free at last, and heaved herself belly down over the saddle, and swung her leg hastily behind, thumping a bundle with her boot in the process. Talat grunted.

“Come back to me,” said Luthe behind her.

“I will,” she said to Talat’s ears, and then Talat was trotting briskly down the trail. The last Luthe saw of them was a stray blue gleam from the hilt of a sword.

Spring seemed to burst everywhere around them as they went, as though Talat’s small round hoofs struck greenness from the earth; as if the last white hairs of his winter coat conveyed a charm to the earth they touched. When they slept, they slept in small glades of trees where leaves had just begun to show; but in the mornings, somehow, the leaves were uncurled and heavy with sap; even the grass Aerin lay on had thickened during the night hours. Talat seemed to grow younger with every day, his shining whiteness brilliant in the sunlight, tirelessly jogging mile after long mile; and the birds followed them, as the leaves opened for them, and the flowers cast their perfumes around them. Aerin saw, and wondered, and thought she was imagining things; and then thought again that perhaps she wasn’t; but the sun told her that they went steadily north, and the hard feel of Gonturan in her hand reminded her of why they went.

They had first descended to the forest plain when they left Luthe, and turned right, or north, in the foothills; and here the grass grew to Talat’s knees, and he had to wade through it, with a rushing sound like a ship’s prow through the sea. Before them the grass was thinner; behind them, when she turned to look, the grass was deepest where their trail had been, and waves of grass rippled out from it in wide curving swells. Aerin laughed. “I believe we go in company after ail, though the company chooses to be silent.” Talat cocked his ears back to listen.

But soon they climbed into the mountains again, and there spring had more trouble following them, although she continued to try. Aerin was not conscious of guiding Talat, any more than she had been when they sought for Luthe; they both knew where they were going, and it drew them on; and behind them spring urged them forward. Higher they went, as the sun rose over them and set almost behind them, and the ground underfoot was no longer turf, but rock, and Talat’s hoofs rang when they struck.

When they first came to the stony ground, his hoofbeats struck a hard warning sound; they seemed to thunder of doom and loss and failure, and Talat shied away from his own feet. “Nonsense,” said Aerin, and dismounted, taking Gonturan with her; and she swung her up over her head and down, and thrust her into the trail before her, which was not rock at all, but earth; and as she drew the blade out again, there were some small crushed grass stems growing from the hole that she had made. Aerin knelt, and picked up a handful of dirt and pebbles from the tiny bit of broken earth before her; and threw her handful down the rocky way before them, as far as her arm could hurl; and as the handful disintegrated, the bits twinkled. She threw another handful after the first; and when she threw this into the air it smelted of the crushed leaves of the surka, and as she looked ahead she saw, as if her eyes had merely overlooked it the first time, a slender grey sapling bearing green leaves; and in its topmost branches there appeared a bird, and the bird sang; and around the tree’s foot there grew a budding surka plant, which explained the heavy pungent smell in the air.

“What a pleasant place this is,” said Aerin dryly, but it seemed that her words were sucked away from her, and echoed in some narrow place that was not the place where she stood. Her hand tightened a little on Gonturan’s hilt, but she raised her chin, as if someone might be watching, and remounted Talat. Now his hoofs rang out merrily, like hoofbeats on the stony ways of the City; and there was grass growing in tufts among the stones, and a few wildflowers clinging to crevices over their heads.

The feeling of being watched increased as they went on, though she saw no one, except, perhaps, at night, when there seemed to be more rustlings than there had been when they were still below on the plain, and more quick glints that might have been eyes. The fifth night since she had plunged Gonturan into the earth, and the twelfth since she had left Luthe, she stood up from her fireside and said into the darkness, “Come, then, and tell me what you want.” Her own voice frightened her, for it sounded as if it knew what it was doing, and she was quite sure she did not; and so she staggered and almost fell when after a few moments something did come, and pressed up against her, against the backs of her thighs. She did not move; and before her she saw the glints of many pairs of eyes, moving nearer, at about the right level for creatures the size of the thing that leaned against her legs. She had her arms crossed over her breast; now with infinite reluctance she unbent her right elbow and let the hand dangle down behind her leg, and she felt the creature’s breath. She closed her eyes, and then opened them again with an involuntary yelp as a very rough tongue dragged over the back of her hand. The weight against her legs shifted a little, and then a round skull pressed into her palm.