Greyfax Grimwald (25 page)

“I suppose I should leave a sign I was here,” he mused aloud, “should any of them return,” and thus laying, he motioned with his eyes, made a slight movement of his hand, and there appeared upon the frozen air before him a brilliant silver bell shaped in the fashion of a falcon at rest, and upon one of the finely carven wings was his sign,

It was an instrument soundless to all ears except those of the Circle, and he would be able to hear its chime anywhere upon Atlanton Earth if rung by a hand in need of him. He placed the bell upon Dwarf’s broken sideboard where any would be sure to find it, and hearing An’yim’s neigh of glad greetings, he went out to the noble horse.

“Well met once more, brave An’yim. I seem always to be upon errands these days.”

“Well met, Master. My wind is strong, and I await your journey,” said An’yim politely.

Greyfax stroked the great silver-maned neck, mounted, and the two were away, leaving a silent breath behind that ruffled the snow’s sleep, and the tiny silver bell, all that was left ever to betray his presence there.

Raven, flying high over the ruined forest in search of supper for the nestful of ugly, open black beaks, circled twice over the burned settlement of the three friends. He came this way from long habit, and had rummaged through the three dwellings often, occasionally finding crumbs of long-left dwarf cake or otter tuck, so he swooped down to have one more quick look before returning to the wood where he now rested, away over the valley rim, where living things still grew and one could find a decent tree to build in.

As he glided slowly down to a landing over Dwarf’s house, a glittering eye winked up at him through the burned and fallen thatch.

“Now what in Crow’s croak could that be?” he muttered, and landing on a broken beam, he saw the tantalizing, shining form of the bell. “Strike my tail-feathers,” he cawed, and fluttered down to look more closely at the glittering object.

“A goshawk, if I ever laid eyes on one.” He hopped around, carefully inspecting his prize, and put his beak to the small, finely turned handle. “Weighs no more than one of my young uns,” he said, surprised. “No good to eat, but it’ll make the missus happy, I guess. Fool woman always filling up my bed with rocks and such. ‘They’re fancy,’ she says, while I have to toss around all night without my sleep. Ah well, maybe if I bring her this trinket she’ll get rid of the other stuff. I suppose I could sleep easier on this.”

And so saying, Raven hoisted the light, fine bell in his beak and flapped loudly away to show his treasure to his wife,

Greyfax, at the moment leading An’yim to his elfin stable in Cypher, did not hear the chime of the bell as it was dropped down into Raven’s soft nest far away, beyond the valley of Dwarf, and beyond all eyes who might have welcomed and been strengthened by its sight.

F
reezing mists surrounded Dwarf, as Erophin had seen. He had remained tormented and tortured for such a length of time he had lost all count, for he did not know that in the Dark Palace where he was imprisoned no time, as he knew it, moved. She had questioned him many times, but always at the moment he was ready to speak, and betray his friends and the Arkencnest, he repeated the name of Greyfax, and thus had defeated her designs upon him. Dorini, after gaining from him other information Dwarf did not know he had given, so powerful was her cunning, began to suspect the box was still in the hands of her hated enemy Greyfax Grimwald, and so she renewed her pursuit of the wizard with all the forces she commanded, the dark powers opposed to the Circle of Light and many men and creatures upon the embattled Atlanton Earth. Her thoughts were bent solely upon capture of the Arkenchest, and her will elsewhere, her servants there were lost and with no definite purpose, but the war still raged on, unabatingly, and from one end of that sphere to the other a poisonous cloud descended, maddening men’s; minds and slowly eating away their resistance.

Dwarf, in his cold dungeon, wept himself to sleep daily, for he was slowly coming to believe that what Dorini said was true, that Greyfax was dead, and he would never again feel the warm sun upon his bade in his beloved, peaceful, faraway valley. In his frozen tomb, imprisoned forever. Dwarf tried to sing to keep his failing hope from dying. To fill his mind, he began an old song Otter had been fond of, describing snowfall on a reed bank, but cold as he was, he left that tune quickly, and went on dying to remember one about sunrise. His voice broke and cracked with the effort, but he went on, and soon had hummed a few bars of Bear’s, then another about hammering, and out of a dusty corner of his memory that held his journey of old he faintly heard the strange song his father had taught him so many dwarf ages ago.

His mind stirring from its frozen sleep a bit, he remembered the warmth of the Meadows of the Sun, and meeting Otter and Bear there. It seemed all a faded dream he had had, then forgotten. Now he dwelt in the deathless, frozen breath of Dorini, and the others were gone, all probably lost now to him forever. His voice strengthened a little in answer to that thought, and he hummed his father’s song a little louder. It somehow gave him strength, so he began the first stanza, voice growing, and on through the middle of the second.

A distant tremor shuddered, and low, rumbling sounds erupted, as if huge rocks were shifting upon one another. It grew colder, and a shrieking, biting wind began to howl, Suneater, down in the deepest chambers of the Dark Palace, raised his gaunt frame and let forth a chilling growl-wail, rattling the great chain of mountain roots and wind that bound him. Fireslayer whirled her gruesome heads, beating her oozing body against her prison walls. Dorini was in dark council with Doraki, and the two rose quickly, hearing that faint melody ringing through the frozen halls of the Dark Palace. Never had anything so vile and bitter, or dangerous, sounded through the World Between Time. The foundations cracked, and a deafening, roaring maelstrom engulfed the Dark Queen and her lieutenant. The great stone alarm bells clanged sullenly alive, and her other servants sent up a high, wailing lament.

Destruction and chaos broke forth across the dark realm, and Dwarf, hearing it, grew frightened and sang yet louder, finished the song, then began all over from the start. His gallant little heart beat furiously in his throat, but he sang out in a clear, high voice.

A sudden, raiding darkness cloaked him, followed by a bitter, freezing cyclone of wind, then stars whirled dizzily by, and he felt the terrible sensation of falling, on and on, through lifetimes and then beyond those. He thought at once of Calix Stay, of the great River, for it was in this way one returned to begin again, and seized by panic, and breathless, not knowing what else to do, he repeated the spell of the holding of the River, not once, but nine times, for it took him so long to fall. All about him, spinning dark shapes loomed, then disappeared. There were so many, he thought perhaps it was indeed the ending in all, the great intake of the one, but the dark forms vanished one by one, and with a last blinding explosion of light and sound, Dwarf stood, breathless, upon the foot of his fire-scorched bed, in the ruins and waste of his beloved, gutted house in the now barren, snow-locked valley that was his homeland.

His escape had come almost three months after Cakgor had carried him into the dark, malignant reign of Dorini.

W
inter grew steadily on as Otter grew nearer the great range of bluish-white-topped mountains that defined the northernmost frontier of the land he traveled. From various men, he had learned it was called Amalnath, but before the invasion it had been known as Amarigin. The regions he sought still were besieged by the invaders, but they had not yet been overrun, as was much of Amalnath. As he came nearer to the borders, he saw great battles raging like wildfire. His caution had kept him safe this far, and he doubled his carefulness, until he journeyed only at night, and in his animal form. There were too many risks and dangers to traveling as a man, a lesson he had learned well, coming upon a day-old battlefield and seeing the rotting corpses turning slowly to worm and dust. Animals were no safer, but still they were more wary and stood a better chance of passing unnoticed than those other folk who went about upon only two feet.

In the early evening sky, the first trine moon of the descent raised her tusk-shaped head and shook out her hair over the snow-covered world. Otter’s small calendar was marked the ninth day of the birch, which was upon calendars of Atlanton Earth the ninth of December. He had been upon the road since the fourteenth day of September.

As the night grew older, Otter stopped near the stone ruins of what had once been a farmhouse, and decided to rest inside its shelter and perhaps have a nap and good nose slide or two before he went on. His short legs were aching from his day’s march, and he promised himself to resume the trip in man form, perilous or not, to use the fresh muscles of that body to continue. He carefully placed his rucksack beside the broken door, and cautiously began his exploration of the interior. Much of the roof was gone, although the walls still stood, offering at least protection from the cold wind that had risen as the sun went down.

Otter poked his snub nose into the darkness, and tested it. Man scent. He retreated quietly, trying to find the man form in the dim, open-topped room. A deeper black shape than the surrounding darkness revealed where the man lay. Small ears straining, he detected irregular heavy breathing, followed by a low moan. Whoever was there was wounded, or dying, and Otter spoke the words and turned twice, and stood stretching his man limbs to get the fit of them. Then he stole quietly over to where the wounded fellow lay.

“Hullo. What hurt have you taken, friend? Is there something I can do?”

A weak hand struggled feebly toward the ugly firearm that lay propped against the wall. Otter reached out quickly and took it, moving it out of reach. It was the first man weapon he had ever laid a paw upon, and its cold steel barrel made his hand-paw tremble as he touched it.