Ширли Мерфи - The Castle Оf Hape. Caves Оf Fire Аnd Ice. The Joining Оf Тhe Stone

Dalwyn came down fast to the lip of the cave. Ram slid off and was inside running downward into the darkness. He startled the mare. The little foal jumped away from him in alarm. He laid a hand on the mare’s cheek. He was sorry to have frightened her. But Telien—Telien was not there.

He searched the small cave for other openings. There was one; but he turned back to the entrance, the mare directed him back. Dalwyn called to him in silence.

Outside on the mountain, he followed the silver stallion up a thin thread of path that climbed steeply beside a steep drop. The heat was terrible here, rising from the burned hills. He found Telien at last, lying cold as death, inches from the drop. How could she be cold? The air was stifling. She was barely conscious, shivering, her skin like ice. He lifted her and held her, trying to warm her. She whispered so low he could barely hear her, “The ice—it’s so slippery. I can’t climb, I can’t get to the grass. She is so hungry . . .”

Ice? The mountain was hot as Urdd. And yet her hands and face were freezing cold, her tunic cold and wet and, in the creases, stiff with ice crystals that melted at his touch. He stared at the swollen, blood-crusted wound on her forehead, and a memory of just such a wound made him feel the pain again. He knew at once the dizziness she felt, the nausea, guessed her confused state.

But why was she cold?

Her arms and legs, her face were scraped and dirty. Her legs were black with ash but smeared, too, with the melting ice. Beneath the grit her skin was pale. Her hair was tangled with twigs and dead sablevine and dulled with ashes. When he tried to smooth it, she sighed, reached to touch his hand, then dropped her own hand, palm up curving in innocence. But then she looked at him suddenly without recognition, fell into sleep again, frightening him anew.

He carried her down into the cave and laid her on a stone shelf, covered her with his dirty tunic. The cave was cooler, but still stifling. Telien shivered. He began to chafe her wrists, then at last he lay down over her, keeping his weight off but trying to warm her. She stirred a little then, opened her eyes. She was shivering uncontrollably. “The snow comes so hard. Will it never stop? There is ice . . . the path . . . I must not fall. Meheegan . . .”

“Telien! Telien!”

She had gone unconscious again. He gathered her close, trying to warm her, trying to understand what had happened. She shivered again. He must get her warm or she would die. He rose, stared around the cave. He had flint, but there was nothing here to burn. It was then he saw the wolves come around him suddenly out of the darkness. Fawdref nuzzled close to him in wild greeting, his great tail swinging an arc. Rhymannie stared up at him grinning with joy. They came at once onto the shelf with Telien and lay down all around her, covering her. They had dropped their kill at Ram’s feet, three fat rock hares.

Ram could see little more of Telien now than her cheek and one strand of pale hair, so completely did the wolves cover her. Rhymannie began to lick her face. Ram took up the rock hares, carried them to the mouth of the cave and began to clean them. Telien would need food, something hot. But where in Urdd was he going to get fuel? Fawdref spoke in his mind then, showed Ram where there was grass on the mountain, and he understood that Telien had been trying to climb there to gather it for the mare.

He went up the narrow steep trail to gather the grasses dried brown by the heat and to gather some of the dried manure left by the winged ones. He returned to the cave, built a fire, and cut the rock hare into small portions to cool quickly. When the first pieces were done, he woke Telien. She ate slowly, watching Ram, uncertain still of her surroundings. She discovered the wolves clustered over and around her, was afraid, then lost her fear as suddenly and pulled Rhymannie’s muzzle down to her in affection, sighing with the life-giving warmth. Ram had brought grass for the mare. She ate with the dispatch of one truly hungry, while her greedy young colt nursed, flapping his stubby wings with pleasure.

When Telien had eaten, her color was better, her eyes clearer. “It was so cold, Ram. Did the snow melt? It’s warm now; how long has it been? When did you come here?” She stared up toward the cave opening, puzzled. “The mountains were white with it. And you—you haven’t any tunic. You . . .”

“Hush.” He knelt, laid a hand over her lips. “It’s all right. I found you on the ledge, you were almost frozen. Where—it was hot, Telien. The air is like steam. Where . . . what happened to you?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I was . . .” She tried to sit up, so Rhymannie’s head was lifted on her shoulder. Ram helped her. The wolves stirred, resettled themselves around her. She stared across the dim cave at the mare, saw the foal. “I—I was going up to get grass for Meheegan, she . . . on the mountain. The wolves said . . . She startled, looked at Ram with amazement. “They—the wolves spoke to me, Ram. Spoke in my mind . . .” Her eyes were filled with wonder. “How can that be? I—I am no Seer.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“They showed me—in my mind—where the grass was left untouched, and then they went to hunt. I went—I went up along the path and Rougier came flying up beside me in case, I—I was so dizzy. He stayed with me, and then suddenly he—he was gone and the path was all ice, the mountains white and—and then I don’t remember—then you came, I guess.” She reached to touch his face. “How—how did you find me here?”

“Dalwyn found you. I cannot, even with the wolf bell I could sense little.” He knew he must go for food for her, for fuel. For water, grain for the mare. Telien needed herbs, bread, needed more than meat alone—and even rock hares must be hard to find after the fires, for surely game had perished. He laid a hand on the dark wolf’s head. “Stay with her, Fawdref. Stay with her, hunt for her if I do—stay until I return.” He tucked the tunic tighter around her, held her for a long moment, then rose and turned to the cave’s entrance where Dalwyn waited, silhouetted like a dark statue against the ashen sky.

“Ram?”

He turned back. He thought he could not bear to leave her. They had been apart all their lives. Now, to part so soon was unthinkable. He saw her eyes, needing him, but knew that he must go. “The wolves—Fawdref and Rhymannie will care well for you. I will bring you food, cakes. What girl, Telien, what girl in Ere has such tender nurses?”

She smiled. “No girl. Not such nurses as these. Oh, Ram . . .” Her eyes grew large suddenly and darkened as if some foreshadowing had touched her. She glanced away, then back at him more lightly. “Don’t be long, Ramad of wolves.”

Fear twisted in his stomach as he mounted. He turned to look back at her, wanted to say, Come with me, Telien. But she was too weak. He watched Rhymannie reach to lick her face. He mounted the silver stallion and was gone into the sky.

Part Three: Telien

Love’s will cannot be drawn against the will of Time, but must swing with it. Love’s fate cannot be shaped by the minds of those who love: except as they cleave to the infinity of power that carves out all life. Except as they cleave to the spirit that has birthed them.

There is no path through the fulcrum of Time, there is no promise that one will return, no promise that one will not die lost in Time and alone. There is no promise that what one seeks will be given.

And you who are Seer born, your mission is perilous. If you hold the power of the jade or hold a taint of that stone, those who are dark will lust for it, and follow.

And think not the gods to save you.