Cloak of the Two Winds (6 page)

"Glyssa. Glyssa! Help her!" Both windbringers now were calling.

Glyssa swung her head toward them, and a force bolted out of her brain. A wall of yellow light flashed across the dome to the two windbringers, shocking them into rigid quiet. Now both stood still in their buckets, eyes and mouths shut.

Glyssa's attention returned to the sea chest. She lifted up the witch's black and silver cloak and put it on.

As her body turned from the wall she strained wildly with her mind and succeeded in thrusting the devil away. A storm of yellow sparks flashed before her face, and she glimpsed the devil's eyes and teeth again. Then long claws seemed to slither down into her heart. Glyssa cringed at the pain, nearly blacking out.

She was only half-conscious as she moved across the dome. She parted the ivory spears where the klarn spirit lay at rest and stepped through the torn door flap. The shocking cold of the snow squall wakened her. But the claws twisted in her chest, quelling with agony her first impulse to resist. The devil was growing stronger, more perfect in its control.

Terrified, Glyssa watched herself bound and leap down the slope toward the dojuk and the glistening sea-ice. She cut the mooring lines with her knife. Then she put her shoulder to the bow and turned the boat, pointing it out to sea. This normally required the strength of three or four, yet Glyssa accomplished it. Perhaps she was dreaming; she hoped it was so.

She climbed on board, loosed the heavy kegs and rolled them over the side. Her knife cut the knots securing the sail, and then she bent her back and raised the yard. As the sail climbed the mast it bowed with the furious wind, pushing the dojuk a bit on the snow.

When Glyssa had secured the halyard and the sheets she stood beside the tiller, bracing her back against the stern. Prompted by the devil's will, she raised both arms and pointed at the sail.

The sleeves of the witch's cloak glimmered with some unguessable power. Glyssa's arms shuddered as a great wind roared into being. The wind filled the sail and the dojuk lurched under her feet. The wind shattered the frozen waves near shore as it pushed the dojuk, tilting madly, out to sea.

When Lonn woke the wind was quiet. The stove was cold and above it, where the chimney pipe jutted through the ceiling of the small dome, daylight shone in a blue crescent.

Karrol was standing between the two bed platforms, wrapping a bed fur over her shoulders. "Glyssa never called us to take her place." She picked up her sword and headed for the crawl-tunnel.

"She probably talked all night with the windbringer," Draven said. Still he rose, took his own sword and followed Karrol, not bothering with a fur.

Lonn stared at the ceiling, trying to recall if he had dreamed. All he could remember was a disturbing sense of confusion and worry.

Then Karrol and Draven were shouting in alarm, saying that Glyssa was gone, that the dojuk had been stolen.

Lonn, Eben, and Brinda clambered out of bed and grabbed their weapons. As they hurried through the low tunnel Lonn could hear Karrol outside, screaming Glyssa's name.

Draven knelt by the hearth, trying to rouse the windbringers from trance. The witch's treasure, and all else in the chamber, seemed untouched—except for the door flap, which was split down the middle. Lonn ran to the entrance and looked outside.

Sunlight reflected blindingly on the new snowfall. Shading his eyes and squinting, Lonn spotted Karrol halfway down the slope, wading bare-legged through the knee-high drifts. She was still shouting Glyssa's name. Farther down, where the dojuk had been moored, six or seven rounded lumps lay partly covered by snow—the kegs of oil and brandy, abandoned. Beyond that—Lonn stretched his neck and stared in bewilderment—it appeared the dojuk had left a track, a shallow trench running out to sea.

"It looks like the snow was cleared, midway through the storm, to let the dojuk sail," Eben said. "Perhaps this witch really does command the winds."

Lonn crossed the dome on wobbly legs, Eben a step behind. Brinda had poured fresh oil in the hearth and was trying to strike a spark. Draven still knelt with the windbringers, a hand in either pail, churning furiously to get the slush off the roots.

"Azzible! Kizier! Azzible!" he yelled. "I've never known bostulls so hard to rouse."

Brinda got the fire started, flames sputtering across the oil. Suddenly Kizier opened his eye. Round and startled, it swept over the Iruks and past them across the dome.

"What happened?" Lonn asked. "Where's Glyssa?"

"Did the witch take her?" Eben demanded.

"No, not Amlina…Some other." In a soft, quavering voice Kizier told them all he had seen and sensed last night: the ripping of the entry flap, the wheel of light spinning across the chamber and entering Glyssa, seizing control of her, making her a
thrall
, an instrument of its will.

"We tried to call you, Azzible and I both. But the one who'd taken Glyssa smote us, driving us into deep trance. I do not know who it was. A powerful deepshaper, that is certain."

By now Azzible had also come out of trance. Lonn and Draven questioned him, but he only confirmed what Kizier had already said.

"It makes no sense!" Eben exclaimed. "Why take Glyssa and our boat and leave everything else?"

"Your boat is missing also," Kizier murmured, gazing past them toward the chests and basket belonging to the witch. "I think I know the answer, though I pray to the Seven Immortals of Larthang that I am wrong. Have you verified that
all
of Amlina's possessions are still here?"

The mates looked at one another. "No," Lonn said.

The bostull's stalk nodded, a peculiarly human gesture. "I suspect you'll find the black and silver cloak is gone. It alone of all her things is worth such effort."

Brinda and Draven went to search for the cloak.

"Why is it worth so much effort?" Lonn demanded.

Kizier paused, watching as Draven and Brinda rifled through the witch's possessions.

"Why is it worth so much effort?" Lonn shouted impatiently.

"The cloak is not here," Brinda announced.

"Just so," Kizier muttered sadly. "The worst has happened, so you may as well know the truth. That cloak is the Cloak of the Two Winds, one of the great treasures of Larthang. It was fashioned by Eglemarde herself on the day she wove the Two Winds into the pattern of the world. Its threads contain the binding energy of that ensorcellment. The Cloak has the power to summon the witch winds."

"Then that would explain the trench," Eben said. "And how the dojuk could be sailed through a squall."

Karrol stomped into the lodge house, brushing snow from her bare legs. She staggered to the rear of the dome and started collecting her garments.

"There was only one set of tracks and they led straight to the dojuk," she panted. "Glyssa must have been bewitched ... Why are you all standing around?"

It took a moment before Lonn answered. "We're trying to figure out what happened. And what to do about it."

Karrol slid on her trousers. "What happened is Glyssa was taken! What we must do is go after her. She’ll be easy enough to follow. The dojuk left a track wider than the outriggers, and all of it has frozen hard."

"How can we follow without a boat?" Eben demanded.

"On skates," Karrol said. "We'll have to go on skates."

"Ridiculous," Draven said. "We'd never catch the dojuk on skates. We're already hours behind."

"All the more reason to hurry!" Karrol flung a shirt at him. "Get dressed."

Draven caught the shirt and held it, looking dumbly at the others.

"Whatever we decide, we'll need to be dressed," Brinda said, and went to put on her clothes.

"We're going on skates," Karrol insisted.

"That's crazy." Lonn still stood by the fire. "We'll all freeze, or drown when the meltwind blows."

"What other choice do we have?" Karrol yelled. "Abandon Glyssa? Is that what you want?"

"Of course not. But there has to be another way."

"What?" Karrol shouted, tugging on a boot. "What other way, Lonn?"

The mates all looked at him, the klarn leader, hoping he had an answer. Lonn felt a terrible gulf open inside of him. He shook his head. "I don't know."

"No. You don't!" Karrol cried. "Your crazy dream brought us this trouble, but no guidance to help us out of it. Did you have other dreams that warned this might happen? Well, if you did, you forgot about them!"

Lonn clenched his fists, suppressing a flash of rage. He wanted to strike Karrol, so hurt was he by what she'd said. Yet her words were true, and he could hardly blame her, in her grief, for speaking them.

Scanning the faces of his mates, Lonn saw the same grief reflected on each. Their klarn was broken, and with it their spirit and confidence. For a mate to be killed in a hunt or battle would be bad enough. But those were known hazards, and the ghost of the lost mate would still travel with the klarn. But for a mate to be lost, torn away by some unknown fate—and for that one to be Glyssa, beloved by all of them—this was a pain beyond bearing. There was only one remedy: the klarn must be made whole again, whatever the risks.

"Karrol is right," he said. "We'll have to go on skates." He went to gather his clothing. After a moment, Draven and Eben followed.

"The dojuk may not have gone far," Brinda said as they dressed. "There's a chance we can catch it on skates."

"I think we should search the island first," Draven suggested. "There might be a dojuk laid in that we could borrow. Or steal."

But they all knew this was unlikely. It was yulugg season and any serviceable boat would likely be at sea.

"There's no time," Karrol answered, placing her knife and sword in their scabbards. "Every moment we waste lessens our chance of finding Glyssa."

The mates exchanged looks of painful uncertainty.

"It might be worth searching the island first," Lonn allowed.

"Fine." Karrol picked up a quiver of spears and turned her back on them. "You do what you like. I'm going now."

"Wait!" Eben shouted as Karrol stalked across the dome. "We have to act together. Karrol—you're breaking the klarn!"

"It's broken already. I'm trying to make it whole." Karrol pushed through the torn entry flap and was gone.

Eben jumped up, enraged, but Brinda, fully dressed now, grabbed him around the waist. "Wait. I'll go with her, Eben. The rest of you can search the island first, then come after us."

"We should stay together," Eben declared, still struggling to pull free.

"That's impossible now," Brinda said. "Karrol won't wait. Besides, if we split up we can both cover the island and start after the dojuk at once."

"She's right," Draven laid a hand on Eben's shoulder. "It's better to do both."

Eben ceased struggling and stared at the floor, defeated.

"We'll do what Brinda suggests," Lonn said. "But first we must raise the klarn spirit. There’s only four of us, but that’s better than nothing."

"No time," Brinda was picking up her weapons. "Karrol will be out of sight by the time we finish. You three raise the spirit and send it to the rest of us—to Glyssa too."

She fastened on her cape and headed for the entrance. "Karrol, wait for me," she called as she ran outside.

When she was gone, Lonn, Draven and Eben stared at each other, stunned. The chaos and terror of what had happened settled on them now, and for a moment they were overwhelmed, paralyzed.

Finally, Lonn shook himself. "We must hurry."

They finished dressing. Lonn went to fetch the ceremonial cup. The men lined up at the door flap and hastily performed the rite, pouring libations and calling the klarn spirit to wake and come into them. Each of them picked up two spears, and Eben added words to send the spirit also to Brinda, Karrol, and Glyssa.

They armed themselves with swords and knives, and each took a quiver that held three spears. Though the journey might be long they took no food, only small water flasks tucked in their shirts. The furs and weapons encumbered them already, but they dared not leave those behind.

"With luck we'll return in a day or two," Draven said to the bostulls. "If not, someone will come by and find you. You'll be looked after, so don't worry."

"I wish you good fortune," Kizier said.

"We'll need it," Lonn muttered.

The Iruks tramped outside, into the brilliance of sunlight and snow. Karrol and Brinda had already skated out to sea. Lonn peered for a moment before spotting them, tiny specks receding in the glimmering distance.

Eben volunteered to go inland, to apprise the village elders of what had happened and to ask them to take the windbringers if his klarn did not return. He bid his mates good hunting and marched over the rise toward the center of the isle. Lonn and Draven stepped and skidded down the slope to where the dojuk had been moored.

The witchlight made the sea ice gleam even more brightly than the snow-covered land. Lonn and Draven sat at the edge of the trench and took the skates from their belts. The double blades of ivory fit snugly against the soles of their boots, but Lonn's fingers were stiff, their movements inept. He was still fumbling with the straps when Draven stood, muttered his farewell and skated off. He would circle the island to the east, leaving Lonn the western leg.

Alone in the huge silence, Lonn fought down a rising surge of futility and despair. He swore and tugged at the leather straps and finally got them tied. He rose clumsily and started off, skating inside the trench. The vapory sealight hovered about his ankles. Momentarily, the effortless gliding made him feel a little better.

The snow that fell during the squall had been transformed by the glowing enchantment of the sea into hard, skateable ice. This change took time, the radiant power seeping up, melting and then refreezing the snowfall. The trench could only have been formed by an interruption of this change, the layer of new snow cleared away so the dojuk could ride the solid ice beneath.

How strong a wind would be needed to move so much snow? Lonn shook his head. How could he and his mates hope to fight an enemy with such power?

A hundred yards from shore he stopped and turned. Ilga was a white hump rising from the pale blue luminescence of the sea-ice. Here and there dark details could be discerned, a wall of rock too steep for the snow to cling to, the two brown domes of the lodge house, only partly covered in white. Farther inland, columns of gray smoke drifted up from the chimneys of the village.

Skating east, Draven had already circled out of sight. Lonn stepped from the trench and started west.

The orange sun was past the top of the sky when Lonn and Draven skated back to the shore in front of the lodge house. They had met on the far side of the island, then circled back together. Eben stood on the beach waiting for them.

"No boats," Lonn told him. "We follow Karrol and Brinda on skates."

"And hope for the best," Draven added.

As soon as Eben had his skates on they headed out to sea. The trench ran straight and level, the smooth ice within perfect for skating. The Iruks lengthened their strides. Bent low, they swung their arms, gaining speed with every stroke. A gust of wind blew up behind them, moaning in their ears.