Ironhand's Daughter (31 page)

“You say
allowed
to touch it. There are people there?”

“Aye, there are people. They cling to life in a world of death.”

“What is killing them?”

“There is no sun to bring life to the land. The city was built inside a forest of dead trees. There is no grass, and no crops grow. The land is in perpetual twilight. The mountains there spew fire and ash, and occasionally rip themselves apart with sounds like a thousand thunders. You can see why I forbade any further ventures into that land.”

“But without cattle and crops, how do they survive?” asked Ballistar.

“On war,” the King told him.

“That makes no sense,” said the dwarf.

“It does, lad, if you have a mind dark enough to examine it.”

Ballistar awoke with a start and sat up blinking and afraid. He had failed Sigarni and slept. Swiftly he rushed to her side. She was warm to the touch and sleeping deeply. Relieved, the dwarf knelt by the fire and blew the coals to glowing life, adding shreds of bark to feed the tiny flames. Once it had flared he placed two small logs atop the coals.

From Sigarni's pack he took a flat-bottomed pot and a sack of dried oats. Filling the pot with snow, he stood it upon the fire. Despite being full of snow it melted to only a tiny amount of water and Ballistar spent some time moving back and forth bringing handfuls of snow from outside the cave. When the pot was half full of water he added oats and a pinch of salt.

The sun was up, the cave mouth lit with golden light. Birdsong could be heard from the trees outside and the air was fresh with the promise of the coming spring.

Sigarni awoke and stretched. The blanket slid from her naked body. “Ah, breakfast,” she said. “What a fine companion you are, Ballistar.”

“I live to serve, my Queen,” he said, making an elaborate bow.

“No sign of Taliesen?”

“Not yet, but the dawn has only just arrived.” Using two long sticks, Ballistar lifted the pot from the fire and stirred the contents, which had thickened considerably. “You brought no honey,” he chided her. “Porridge is bland and tasteless without it.”

“I had to carry enough food for two. Come to think of it, I had to carry you as well for a while. There was no room for honey. Have you slept?”

“A little,” he admitted.

She smiled. “The next time I suggest a swim under the ice, be so kind as to remind me of my previous stupidity.”

“I will. How are you feeling?”

“Rested, and at peace for the first time in weeks. No plans to study, no quarrels to adjudicate, no ruffled feathers to smooth. Just breakfast at dawn in a peaceful cave, enjoying good company.”

“I trust you include me in that description?” said Taliesen, stepping into the cave and brushing snow from his tattered cloak of feathers. Sigarni nodded, but her smile had faded.

“Welcome, Taliesen.”

The old man made his way to the fire and sat. “You have a beautiful body, Sigarni. Fifty years ago it would have inspired me to carnal thoughts. Now, however, I can appreciate its beauty on an entirely different level. I take it the Pallides asked for the Crown?” Sigarni nodded and rose from bed, dressing swiftly. “It will not be easy—and yet you must not dally,” continued Taliesen. “I will send you through the Gateway as soon as you are dressed.”

“The world beyond is poisonous,” said Ballistar coldly. “She could die there.”

Taliesen swung to him. “It is very rare that I am surprised, dwarf. Yet you have accomplished it. How is it that you know of Yur-vale?”

“I am a creature of legend,” said Ballistar with a wide grin. “I know many things.”

“Then perhaps you would like to continue my story?”

“Gladly,” said Ballistar, who then told Sigarni all that Ironhand had confided to him the night before. The dwarf took great pleasure in the look of amazement that Taliesen sought to disguise. When he had finished Ballistar moved to Sigarni's pack, pulling out two shallow bowls. Ladling porridge into each, he passed one to Sigarni. “You are welcome to eat from the pot,” he told Taliesen.

“I am not hungry!” snapped the wizard. “Is there anything else you wish to add about Yur-vale?”

“No,” said Ballistar happily. “Do continue.”

The wizard cast him a baleful glance. “Yur-vale was once a paradise. There was no physical ugliness there, and no natural disease—at least no disease that affects the inhabitants. It was a land of beauty and light. Now it is the opposite. It is an ocean world, with a very small land mass at the equator. The land mass has two great cities, and these are in a perpetual state of war. The war is necessary, for reasons we do not need to trouble ourselves with. The Crown is in a temple at the center of the city of Zir-vak. It is a city under siege and you will need to enter it by means of a black river which flows through it. Do not drink the water; it has been polluted by volcanic ash. The city's inhabitants have a way of purifying the water, involving filters. Once inside the city, the water you find will be good to drink. Take food with you, and eat nothing offered to you during your stay—no matter how appetizing it looks.”

“How do I get there?” asked Sigarni.

“There is a Gateway close to the Falls. I will send you through and you will arrive at a point some seven miles south of the city. Since you will not see the sun, you must head for a set of twin peaks you will see to the north. When you return to the Gateway you will make a cut upon your arm and allow blood to drop on each of the six standing stones that make up the circle. I will then bring you back.”

“Bring
us
back,” put in Ballistar.

“I go alone,” said Sigarni. Ballistar was about to argue when Taliesen cut in.

“I agree with him,” said Taliesen with a rare smile. “Take the dwarf. He will be of use.”

Ballistar was surprised. “Why do you support me, wizard? I know you have no love for me.”

“Perhaps that is why I support you,” said Taliesen. “Have you brought weapons?”

“Yes,” said Sigarni. “Bows, knives, and my saber.”

“Good. Now, if you are both ready, we should depart.”

Sigarni took a small pouch from her pack and dropped the finger bone of Ironhand into it. Looping a thong through the pouch, she tied it around her neck.

“What is that?” asked Taliesen.

“A talisman,” she told him.

Ballistar thought he was about to speak, but Taliesen said nothing. The wizard rose. “When you have cleaned and stowed your pots, I will be waiting for you on the other side of the pool,” he said, and padded out of the cave.

“Are you sure you want to come with me, Balli?” asked Sigarni.

“Always,” he said.

They found Taliesen waiting by a cliff face some two hundred yards from Ironhand's burial place. Sigarni had played there as a child, and she and her friends had often debated the meaning of the strange symbols carved on the rocks. The area was flat, as if smoothed by man, and deep grooves had been chiseled from the rock in the shape of a tall rectangular door. There was also evidence of an inscription, though wind and rain, snow and hail, had long since eroded the greater part of it.

“This is one of the Lesser Gateways,” said Taliesen. “It does not allow movement through
our
time, but does serve to open time doorways to other realities. Now remember what I said. Do not drink of the water of the black river, nor eat any meat offered to you. This is vital. I knew a sorcerer once who went there and ate a little pork; it swelled inside him and ripped him apart. Yur-vale is a world of great magic, and you are strangers to it. Because of your very
strangeness
its power will be many times greater around you. Bear this in mind. Now, you know where you are heading?”

“Seven miles toward the twin peaks,” said Sigarni.

“Good. Now my bones are freezing here, so let us begin. Are you ready?” Sigarni nodded and Taliesen turned to Ballistar. “And you, dwarf? There is still time to change your mind. What awaits you is not pleasant. Your worst nightmare is beyond this Gate.”

Ballistar thought he detected a note of concern in the wizard's voice, and felt his fears rise. “I will travel with Sigarni,” he said stoutly. Reaching up, he took hold of her hand.

“Then let it begin,” said Taliesen. The old wizard closed his eyes and spoke softly in a language unknown to either of the Highlanders. It was soft and fluent, almost musical. Pale light flooded from the rectangular grooves in the rock face, which became translucent, and then transparent, and Sigarni found herself staring through it at a cold, grey landscape. “Step through quickly,” said Taliesen. “It will hold for a few seconds only.”

The silver-haired woman and the dwarf stepped through the portal. Sigarni shivered as she passed through, for it was like walking through a waterfall, cold and yet not as refreshing. On the other side they found themselves standing within a circle of six tall granite stones. Sigarni swung around in time to see Taliesen fade away to nothing.

“Well, we are here,” she said, turning back to Ballistar. The dwarf was lying on the ground, his body twitching. “Balli! Are you ill?”

His body began to writhe.

And stretch . . .

Dropping her bow and loosing her pack, Sigarni knelt beside him. His limbs were thrashing around, his legs jutting now from his tiny trousers. The small doeskin boots split as his feet grew. His black leather belt snapped. Sigarni moved back from him and waited. Finally the spasmodic twitching eased and she found herself gazing down at a healthy young man in torn clothes and shredded boots. Part of one boot was still around the ankle like an adornment. Ballistar groaned and sat up. “What happened to me?” he asked. Then he saw his arms, full length and strong, with long, slender fingers, and his legs. He scrambled to his feet and found himself staring into Sigarni's eyes. “Oh, God, dear God,” he said. “I'm a man!”

Throwing his arms around the stunned Sigarni, he kissed her cheek. “I'm a man,” he said again. “Look at me, Sigarni!”

“You look very fine,” she said with a smile. “Truly this is a magical place.”

“He said my worst nightmare awaited me. How wrong can a man be? This is everything I dreamed of. Now I will be able to stand with the others and fight the Outlanders. No more jibes and cruel jokes. Oh, Sigarni . . .” Abruptly he sat down and began to weep.

“I brought a spare tunic and leggings,” said Sigarni. “I think they might fit you. Even if they don't, they'll look better than the rags you are wearing.”

He nodded and moved to her pack. “I could even get married,” he said, “and sire sons. Tall sons!”

“You always were handsome, Balli, and you'll make a fine father. Now stop talking and get dressed, we must be moving on.”

Sigarni gazed at the bleak landscape; the sky was slate-grey and the air smelled acrid. Far to the east she could see fires on the horizon as two distant volcanoes spewed hot ash and lava out over the land. “Not a hospitable place,” she said.

“I think it's wonderful,” said Ballistar.

She turned to see him struggling out of his ruined leggings. “By Heaven, Balli, has
that
grown also?”

He giggled. “No, it was always this big. Do you like it?”

She laughed. “Just cover it, you fool!”

Ballistar dressed and tied the thongs of his new green leggings. “They are a little tight,” he said. “Am I as tall as Fell?”

“No. But you are taller than Bakris and Gwyn. That will have to do.”

Sigarni reached for her bow—and froze. The weapon had rooted itself in the ground and small, slender branches were growing from it. “Would you look at that!” she said. Roots were spreading out from the bow, delving into the grey, ash-covered ground.

“What about your arrows?” asked Ballistar. Sigarni swung her quiver clear and pulled a shaft from it; it was unmarked. At that moment a single ray of sunshine seared through the ash-grey sky, a pillar of light bathing what had once been a bow and was now a swiftly growing tree. The sudden warmth was welcome and Sigarni glanced up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of sunlight on her skin. Then it was gone.

Something moved against her chest and, startled, Sigarni glanced down. The small leather pouch was bulging now, and writhing, as if a large rat were inside. Swiftly she ripped it from her neck and hurled it to the ground. The leather split and a white bone protruded, others joining to it. As with Ballistar the bones stretched and grew, cartilage and ligaments slithering over them, pulling joints into sockets. At last a huge skeleton lay on the volcanic ash.

For a moment nothing more happened. Then suddenly, in a vivid burst of color, red muscle and sinew, flesh and veins, danced along its frame, covering lungs and liver, heart and kidneys. Skin flowed over the whole, and silver hair sprouted from head and chin.

For a while Ironhand lay naked on the ground, then took a long shuddering breath. His eyes opened, and he saw Sigarni. “I can feel,” he said. “The ground beneath me, the air in my lungs. How is this possible?”

“I have no idea,” said Sigarni, removing her green cloak. She cut a hole in the center and passed it to the naked man.

Ironhand stood and looped it over his head. “Where are we?”

“In the land of Yur-vale,” Sigarni told him. “Taliesen sent us through a magical Gateway.”

“It is puzzling, but by Grievak, it is good to feel again— and to have two good hands of flesh and blood,” he added, clenching his fists. “Who is this?” he asked, turning to the young man at her side.

“It is me, Ballistar the Dwarf. The magick made me grow. Though not as tall as you,” he added with a frown.

Ironhand chuckled. “You are tall enough, boy. What now, daughter?”