[Lyra 03] - Shadow Magic Read online

  Maurin was much better the following morning, and demanded loudly to get up, but this Alethia and Rarn refused to allow. They were supported by Jordet, Har and Tamsin, but it was Alethia’s persuasions that finally kept Maurin in bed. Rarn nodded in satisfaction at the progress of her patient and brewed more of her potions while Alethia sat with him, but it was not until the next day that she grudgingly pronounced Maurin nearly well enough to travel.

  The news was greeted with joy. It was too late to set out for Brenn at once, but Alethia, Har and Tamsin compensated by discussing at great length various improbable schemes for transporting the invalid in the greatest comfort, much to the dismay of the person in question. They were still talking when Jordet entered, frowning at a note he held.

  “I am sorry to interrupt,” he began, “but I am afraid I have bad news.” He paused as if searching for words, then took a deep breath. “Brenn is under siege by the Lithmern, and I am recalled to Eveleth,” he said baldly. “A message arrived from Eveleth by swift a few minutes ago.” He handed the note to the nearest person, who happened to be Tamsin. The others crowded around the minstrel as he read aloud.

  “Greetings, Keeper of the South Ward Jordet. Your services are now needed in Eveleth; come swiftly. Bring your cousins and companions as well, since Brenn is besieged by part of the Lithmern army and it is not possible for them to reach the city now. Leave at once. Prestemon, Captain, Queen’s Guard.”

  “Under siege!” Alethia said when Tamsin had finished. “Let me see that. No, there must be some mistake!”

  “Is there no way to get back to Brenn?” Har asked, turning toward Jordet.

  “I do not know, but I do not think Prestemon would say such a thing if it were not true,” Jordet answered. “Brenn cannot be in any great danger as yet if it is surrounded by only a part of the Lithmern army, but you would be if you attempted to gain the city. They will wait to attack until the main army arrives. That could be days or weeks.”

  “Or hours,” Har retorted. “Or never! Allie told me how anxious the Wyrds were that she go to Eveleth. Maybe this is a ruse to get her there.”

  “The Shee do not need to use trickery, nor do the Wyrds,” said Worrel from the doorway. Har turned angrily, but the Wyrd continued easily, “Had we wished to, we could have told your sister we were going to Brenn and simply gone to Eveleth instead. I doubt that any of you knows the woods well enough to see the deception, and it is even easier to lose one’s bearing in the mountains.”

  “Har, it’s true,” Alethia said, looking up. It was impossible to say whether she spoke of the note she held or of Worrel’s comments.

  “Then we should ride for Lacsmer and ask Lord Armin to send aid to Brenn,” Har said stubbornly.

  “He may be in Brenn,” Alethia replied sharply.

  “It’s only five days since the feast and he was supposed to stay for a week.”

  “We could still bring soldiers,” Har insisted. Alethia half-nodded, but Maurin spoke up for the first time.

  “Brenn is well defended against a conventional siege, Har; we looked the plans over with Lord Bracor before the Lords Armin and Gahlon arrived, remember? Brenn can hold for at least six weeks against the whole Lithmern army. But what can your soldiers, or Armin’s, do against magic? If the Lithmern had one Talisman and a sorcerer who could use it, they may have more. I do not think this will be an ordinary war.”

  Har looked stunned; the thought had plainly not occurred to him. Alethia frowned. “Would the Shee aid Brenn? They have held apart from Alkyra for so very long.” She turned toward Jordet.

  “Cousin, I do not know,” Jordet replied slowly. “You have kin-right among us and can claim our aid, but the Queen’s Council exiled your mother for dealing with humans. Queen Iniscara might help, perhaps—I do not know her mind.” He shrugged. “You can but try.”

  “What other choice have we?” Alethia demanded, turning to her brother, and he was forced at last to agree.

  So it was that the fourth morning after their arrival at the cottage found the travelers riding north into the mountains of the Shee. Jordet provided cloaks and provisions from a seemingly inexhaustible store, and the Wyrds had their mounts, as well as Jordet’s impressive white stallion, ready by first light.

  All day they wound through the mountains, pausing now and then to drink from an icy stream fed by the melting snow at the top of the peaks. They camped that night in the open, beneath the stars. Rarn and Alethia insisted that Maurin rest, much as he was disinclined to do so, while Har and Tamsin helped Jordet and Worrel gather wood and care for the horses. After they had eaten, Tamsin brought out his melar and sang the ancient songs and ballads of Alkyra until the fire burned low.

  The morning dawned cloudy and cold. After a hasty breakfast, they started off again. By midmorning they were riding through a bone-chilling drizzle that penetrated even the wool of their hooded cloaks. The terrain grew steeper and rockier as they went deeper into the mountains, and the endless drizzle made the narrow paths slippery. Alethia found herself envying the ponies; they seemed to step surely no matter how slick the surface and their shaggy coats seemed to shed water effortlessly.

  The rain grew worse as they went on. The wind was also rising, and the mountains seemed to be no block to it at all. Alethia gathered her sodden cloak more closely around her in a futile attempt to shut out some of the wind. She could vaguely see the figures of Tamsin and Har ahead of her, single file on the narrow trail. Although Jordet rode in the lead, he was easier to see because his white hair and the white horse he rode stood out against the dark background of the mountains and-the rain.

  Jordet waved the others to a halt and turned his horse easily up the steep slope of the mountain. Alethia watched in astonishment as the ghostly white figure and its rider faded above her. Har, directly in front of her, waved his arm and she obligingly rode closer.

  “What is he doing?” Alethia shouted, trying to make herself heard over the wind. Har shook his head and leaned backward, and she repeated the question as loudly as she could.

  “Don’t know,” Har shouted back. “Turn her head into the mountain.” It took Alethia a moment to make sense of this cryptic utterance, but when she did she tugged at Alfand’s rein. The horse shifted slightly in compliance, and Alethia found that the new position seemed to lessen the force of the driving rain. Further conversation was impossible, and Alethia could only sit and wait miserably for Jordet to return.

  A few moments later Alethia saw a flash of white as Jordet reappeared beside Tamsin. It was impossible to hear what he said, but she saw Tamsin nod and dismount. Leading his horse, he turned up the mountain and vanished from her sight almost immediately. Har followed in the same way, and Alethia rode forward.

  As she reached the point where the others had turned off, she saw a steep path, barely visible on the rocky mountainside, forking out from the main trail on which they had been riding. Jordet was positioned at the fork to make sure that no one missed it. In the rain and with such uncertain footing it was obvious that the horses would have to be led, and with a little sigh Alethia dismounted and began pulling Alfand upward.

  It was hard work climbing against the wind and without what little shelter the mountainside had provided on the lower path. Ahead of her she saw Har disappearing among a tangled pile of huge boulders, and she hurried her horse as much as she was able to keep from losing him altogether. A moment later she, too, was among the rocks.

  Alethia staggered for a moment as the wind she had been braced against was suddenly blocked. From her left came a merry whistle. Turning, she saw Har and Tamsin unsaddling their horses in the mouth of a large, shallow cave. Gratefully, she joined them. In a few minutes more, the entire company was gathered in the cave, wringing out their cloaks and unsaddling their horses.

  “How did you know about this place?” Alethia asked Jordet.

  The Shee grinned. “I’ve made enough trips through these mountains to learn where the good bolt-holes are!” he replied. “
There are a lot of caves in this section of the Kathkari, though; it isn’t hard to find one when you have to if you know where to look.”

  Rarn looked up. “So far, so good, but you’d be wise to think about finding some firewood so we can dry ourselves out. We haven’t any spare cloaks, and these are soaked. Not you,” she added as Maurin started to rise. “You’re wet enough now. I’ll not have you catching a chill on top of everything else!”

  “Nay, we needn’t all go!” Jordet said hastily as Maurin scowled. “Come cousin!”

  Har grinned, and the two men moved back out into the storm. The others set to work unpacking the blankets and rubbing down the horses and ponies with whatever dry scraps of cloth they could find. By the time Har and Jordet returned carrying armloads of twisted brush, the animals at least were tolerably comfortable.

  “I am afraid it will take some time to get a fire going,” Jordet said, dumping an armload of glistening black branches at one side of the eave mouth. “The wood is rather wet,” he added unnecessarily.

  “Well, can’t you use some of your magic to start it?” Alethia asked.

  The young Shee frowned. “No,” he said shortly.

  Alethia was quite ready to argue with him, but Maurin spoke before she could reply. “Perhaps you should let me make the fire. Traders know no magic, but we do have a few tricks to use on wet wood!”

  Without waiting for an answer, Maurin went over to the pile of branches and began sorting them. The others watched as he laid out the wood that suited him, and then began whittling on one of the drier pieces. Soon he had a pile of relatively dry shavings, and he pulled out a small firebox and took from it tinder and flints. In a shorter time than Jordet expected, a warm fire was burning and the party huddled around it thankfully.

  The storm began to let up in mid-afternoon, but Jordet vetoed Har’s suggestion that they continue on. “Mountain storms can be tricky,” he said, “and this is the best shelter in the area. It will be worth the extra time on the road to be sure of missing another cloudburst.” True to his prediction, the rain began again shortly before nightfall, and the travelers could only be glad they had not ventured further.

  Alethia awoke a little after dawn and sat up. The others were still asleep; Har, Tamsin, Maurin and Worrel lying in a row at the mouth of the cave and Rarn next to her, a discreet distance from the others. Jordet was nowhere to be seen, and his stallion was missing from among the horses.

  Carefully, so as not to wake Rarn or the others, Alethia rose and tiptoed out of the cave. The sky was clear and the first rays of the sun poured over the mountains to the east. Gathering her cloak about her, for the air was crisp, Alethia walked slowly through the tangled pile of boulders that had sheltered them from the wind the day before.

  Just at the edge of the rock pile she met Jordet, riding up the steep little path to the cave. “Good morning!” she greeted him. “Where have you been?”

  “Checking out the road ahead,” Jordet replied, dismounting. Privately, Alethia felt that the narrow trails they had followed for the past two days could hardly be called roads, but she did not comment. “I am afraid we will have to backtrack and take the lower trail,” Jordet continued as they walked together back toward the cave. “The trail is washed out up ahead, and we cannot get past.”

  “What’s that?” Maurin’s voice floated out of the cave toward them, followed by Maurin himself. The rain and the night spent on the hard cave floor did not seem to have hurt him at all; rather the reverse. Alethia vaguely remembered tales that the Traders prospered on hardship, and found herself more than half believing them.

  “We are going to take another route,” she answered Maurin’s question absently. “The trail ahead of us was destroyed in the storm yesterday.”

  Maurin looked at Jordet, and the Shee nodded. “The other path is more difficult at first, but it is shorter,” he explained. “If we start now, we should reach Eveleth tonight.” This last statement was enough to whisk the travelers back into the cave to repack the few things that they had left out of the saddlebags for comfort overnight. In a surprisingly short time they were ready to go on.

  Under Jordet’s direction, they retraced their previous day’s journey as far as the foot of the mountain, and then turned to follow the narrow ravine at its base. Sheer cliffs rose on either side; the floor of the ravine was littered with shattered slabs of rock that had torn loose from the cliffs above them. The rocks shifted treacherously underfoot, and more than once the horses stumbled, so that their progress was slow. Even the Wyrds” surefooted ponies moved cautiously over the uncertain surface.

  They had nearly reached the middle of the ravine when Alethia saw a brown heap lying on the rocks ahead of them. At first she thought it was a trick of the sun reflecting from the cliff walls, but as they drew nearer it resolved into the figure of a large brown horse lying on its side. Pinned halfway beneath it lay an unconscious man in a dark cloak, and Alethia stifled a gasp as she recognized him. It was one of her Lithmern kidnappers.

  Jordet was the first to reach the fallen man. He swung down from his horse to examine him, and as the others arrived and dismounted, he looked up. “The horse is dead, but the man lives. Help me lift him.”

  With the assistance of Tamsin, Har and Maurin, Jordet was able to slide the Lithmern out from under the dead animal. He examined the fellow thoroughly, and announced: “There are no bones broken and no permanent harm has been done him, but he is half dead of exposure. He has evidently been lying here all night. He must have been trying to get through here yesterday, and his horse slipped in the rain.”

  “The more fool he,” Worrel commented. “This way is hard enough in dry daylight without taking chances in such weather. I did not know that the Shee allowed human visitors—what takes him on this road, do you think?”

  “Har,” broke in Alethia,” I know him.”

  “What?” Jordet straightened to face her.

  “I know him,” Alethia repeated. “He is one of the Lithmern who kidnapped me; I remember him well. He brought me food on that first morning.” She shuddered as she remembered the cold look in his eyes. Tamsin looked at the Lithmern thoughtfully.

  “I believe you said this route was faster, Jordet? Not such a fool, then; he was trying to get ahead of us,” the minstrel said. “Would you say this is your vanishing knife-thrower, Har?”

  Har bent over the man with an exclamation. “His sheath is empty!”

  “Well, now that you know who and what he is, what do we do with him?” Rarn broke in pointedly. “Leave him? Kill him? Or bring him along?”

  “Bring him along by all means,” Jordet responded promptly. “I think food and drink and a warm cloak will repair what harm has been done, and he cannot do us a mischief if we keep close watch on him. He may well be able to tell us something useful when we reach Eveleth.”

  The others agreed, all except Alethia and Worrel, who shook his head ominously when he was overruled, but kept silent. They relieved their captive of his sword, and Jordet replaced the man’s soggy cloak with his own. The Lithmern seemed to be recovering consciousness, and Har poured a cup of water from one of their water-bottles and forced it on him. After a few swallows the man choked, sputtered, and sat up.

  He blinked uncertainly at his rescuers as he looked around him. Then his glance fell upon Alethia. A change came over him. His face darkened and he reached for his missing sword. Jordet stepped in front of him. “You are our prisoner,” he informed the Lithmern calmly, “and we are taking you with us to Eveleth.”

  The man paid no attention at all to this interruption; his gaze was fixed on Alethia. He straightened and seemed to grow taller. A shadow fell on him, and he raised his hand from where he sat to point directly at Alethia. As though the words were dragged from him, he began to speak. “Asi, kalan nitranon…”

  The little group stood frozen, except Worrel. The Wyrd was standing just behind their prisoner, and as the Lithmern began to speak he drew his dagger, reached up, and broug
ht its hilt smartly down on the back of the man’s head. As the Lithmern slumped unconscious once again, Worrel calmly replaced the weapon and turned to Jordet. “A dangerous prisoner, Ward-Keeper.”

  For a moment their eyes locked; then Jordet smiled. “Dangerous indeed! I fear we have underestimated these folk if even such as he can wield a spell of passage.”

  “You recognized it too? Well, perhaps you are right,” Worrel replied. “Yet he seemed to me more one used of magic than himself a user. In any case we had best make speed to Eveleth. And I do not seek to trespass on your authority, Ward-Keeper, but I would feel myself safer were our prisoner gagged and bound.”

  “I’ll not differ with you there!” Jordet said. “I do not seek to prove my talents against such a one; there will be better need for such power at another time and place.”

  “What is the need for this?” Maurin inquired as Jordet and Worrel set about binding their prisoner.

  “Bound and gagged he cannot work magic,”

  Worrel replied, slipping a loop of rope over the Lithmern’s right hand. “And as he was about to work a spell to snatch himself and our charming companion to an unknown but probably unpleasant destination, I think our precautions are more than justified.”

  Alethia had been leaning against Alfand with her head down ever since the Lithmern’s collapse. Now she raised her head and stared fixedly ahead of her. The pupils of her eyes were enormous. “Blindfold him,” she said in a flat voice.

  “What? Why?” Jordet said, looking around.

  “Blindfold him. Blindfold him!” she repeated, and they could all hear the hysterical note in her voice.

  “All right, Allie,” Har said soothingly. “It’s all right.” He put an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off and repeated, “Blindfold him!” Jordet frowned, but Worrel tore a strip from the bottom of his cloak and wrapped it around the Lithmern’s eyes. Only when this was done did Alethia collapse, sobbing, into her brother’s arms.

  CHAPTER TEN