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

At last the soldiers rolled back into their blankets and slept. The sense of the power of the stone calmed. Ram and Hermeth stood staring at one another, both filled with questions, Ram with perhaps even more curiosity than burdened the young ruler of Zandour. This meeting with Hermeth, so long foreshadowed, seemed to open his mind to every puzzling thought he had pushed aside. He felt it as a turning place, though he did not know why or how. Questions came that touched on the core of his being, on the nature of his own power and of the power of the runestone. On the nature of the compromise he must find within himself between his search for Telien and his search for the shards of the runestone.

He looked at Hermeth and felt for an instant he was seeing the shadow of Telien. What was this likeness to Telien that made him think such thoughts. What was he trying to unravel, to imagine? He had a sense of Time curving in on itself, touching itself at its own beginnings, and this confused and upset him.

Then he put such thoughts aside, smiled at Hermeth, and they descended the hill thinking of a hot brew. Ram did not notice until later that Torc was no longer with them, no longer among the wolves that crowded around him down the hill; did not sense the pattern of unseen forces, and the will of Torc herself, that twisted her away into another time, far distant.

SEVEN

By morning, fresh Zandourian soldiers had arrived, and two heavily armed battalions of Aybilian soldiers as well, joining Hermeth on good horses, as eager to destroy the rabble raiders as was the Zandourian band. Ram, mounted on a fast Zandourian stallion, carried the runestone now. He felt out into the hills of Aybil with strengthened senses and spotted five bands hidden. Hermeth sent silent riders, with wolves among them like shadows to track the hidden killers, while his main army moved on through Aybil’s valleys, toward Farr. The river Owdneet would be on their left soon, for they were headed toward a point just south of the Farrian city of Dal. There were scattered groups of raiders in Farr, and Hermeth meant to destroy them all before he rode on Pelli.

For three days they fought skirmishes down across Aybil, the wolves and scouts routing out raiders’ camps, killing so many that the rabble fought back with waning spirit, fought fearfully, then at last turned tail and fled before Hermeth’s raging troops. Hermeth’s men grinned with bloodstained faces, tired and hungry and not caring, preferring to fight, for victory lay close at hand.

But if men can forget rest in the rising tide of winning, horses cannot. At last, as Hermeth’s troops crossed into Farr somewhat south of Dal, Hermeth knew they must halt, at least by midday, and rest the mounts and care for them.

There lay close ahead a thick wood that would give them cover. Hermeth headed for it, but Ram stopped him, uneasy. He sat his tired horse, trying to sort out the unease he felt, then at last chose scouts among the wolves and called a dozen troops to ride with them.

But all returned from the wood, after a thorough search, with nothing to report. It is quiet there, Ramad, said the gray wolf who had led them. There is nothing to fear. And yet . . .

“And yet, Gartthed? What is it?”

I don’t know. Perhaps nothing. It is peaceful there— perhaps too peaceful. There is a tower there, a dark, ruined tower ages old. It is too peaceful around that tower, too quiet. But perhaps—perhaps I imagine things. There is nothing to alarm, nothing one can sense or see. It smells only of moss and painon bark and woods things. An old, old wood it is, the trees huge and bent.

*

In the wood, the whore-bred Seers stood huddled together in a circle beneath those huge trees, hands joined and fingers linked in a ritual of Pellian cunning as they conjured a mindfog, a false peace and emptiness that hid them all and hid their mounted warriors from Hermeth’s Seer-scouts and from the accursed wolves. They had not planned on wolves. Where in Urdd had wolves come from? Near them among the trees, their Farrian and Pellian troops mounted on heavy horses stood silent and invisible by the power of that mind-twisting, heavily armed troops waiting for Hermeth’s army. And if the whore-bred Seers felt a power other than their own there, a power in the wood that they could not sort out, they did not pause to question it. Nothing could be so strong as they. The smiled coldly and brought a stronger force yet of unawareness onto Hermeth’s approaching army, a mood of simple trust so that Ramad and Hermeth and their men entered into shadow thinking only of rest and a hot meal and a tip of the wineskin to ease the pain of wounds.

*

Skeelie and Telien kept the horse to a walk, in order to move as silently as they could through the sparse wood. Dawn had begun to filter between the slim young trees. They rode over soft, damp leaves that muffled sound; but muffled the sound of riders behind them, too. And those riders knew they were there, followed them not by sound but by Seer’s skills. “It is growing light, Skeelie. They will be able to see us now.”

“It doesn’t make much difference,” Skeelie said dourly. She began, with more determination than faith, to try to conjure an illusion that might confuse and turn aside NilokEm’s troops. If she could turn them aside, if she could even begin to deceive that dark Seer. He was no simple Herebian raider, to be so easily deceived as had been the warriors by the lake of fire. He was NilokEm, strong in his dark Seer’s powers, strengthened by the shard of the runestone he carried. Still she must try; their lives could well depend on such deception. What illusion could turn such a man aside, terrify him? Turn his soldiers back, frighten his horses as she had frightened the messenger’s mount? Something—she thought of a trick Ram had used when they were children: A vision of wolves raging in bloodthirsty attack. Oh yes, a vision of wolves might do it.

The vision rose in her mind, great dark wolves snarling and leaping. But could she make NilokEm see them? She began to conjure their shapes from the shadows beneath the trees, to turn and form the shadows; forcing her power into them until she could feel the mount beneath her cringe as the wolves took shadowy form around it. Telien fought to keep the horse from bolting. Skeelie brought wolves huge and leaping out of darkness, felt elation at her own strength, brought wolves stronger still, bolder, drew them close, a sea of snarling killers. Their frightened mount stood motionless now, crouching and shivering, wanting to explode in terror, but its fear gripping it in dumb immobility. Skeelie gave the wolves a rank scent, heightened their snarls; and in one lurching surge sent them streaking to where NilokEm’s horses crashed through the wood. She heard horses scream as they reared and spun. Branches shattered. Men cried out, swearing, caught in confusion.

But one wolf did not follow the rest, remained close beside their plunging horse, one wolf golden in the wash of dawn that fell between the slim trees. “Torc! Oh, Torc!”

Skeelie felt the bitch wolf’s laughter and went weak with pleasure.

Hold the image, sister! Do not let it fade!

She caught her breath, brought the image-wolves into wilder attack among the bolting horses. Their own horse fought Telien, tried to run suddenly. “Pull the horse up, Telien! Pull him up!” Though Telien was doing all she could, sawing its reins and jerking the animal in a circle. Skeelie stared down at Torc, so very glad to see the bitch wolf. Where did you come from? How . . .? The horse continued to spin, fighting Telien. Torc stood still, so as not to alarm it further. Out of another place, sister, out of another time that . . . but the shadows were shifting around them, the wood shifting and warping. The light changed suddenly: sun shone bright between thick branches of trees grown huge, ancient. Their horse spun now in terror, nearly fell, then stopped at last to stand trembling again, foam coating its neck. Around them, riders surged closer in a storm of confusion as Skeelie’s image-wolves leaped and snarled. Their horse crouched wild-eyed, as if it would throw itself. Skeelie slid off to safety, pulling Telien with her, though Telien tried to cling.