Love And War (8 page)

Ahead of him a shadowy spirit in armour stood, waving his sword restlessly among the
weeds. He bent forward, his lips moving in curses too old to mean much to any but the stag.

The king jerked upright, startled, as the stag sang loudly:

KING PERIS'S MEN WERE DUTY BOUND, TO GUARD THE WOOD FROM FEAR. THE KING, IN PRIDE, SET
SWORD ASIDE, TO BARGAIN WITH THE DEER.

King Peris responded, waving his sword in time to the music:

“THERE IS NO HUNT FOR ME,” SAID HE, OF ANY CREATURE BORN, UNLESS I COULD IN SHADOW WOOD
HUNT DOWN THE UNICORN."

After a moment's hesitation, the stag responded:

“NONE KNOWS SO WELL WHERE SHE MAY DWELL AS I WHO DID HER WILL, IF YOU WILL HEED, THEN I
WILL LEAD, AND YOU MAY HAVE YOUR KILL.”

The king resumed his search in the weeds. “Imagine hearing that old thing again, clumsy
meter and all. What made you think of it?”

The stag made no move to help the king. “I heard parts of it being sung last night.”

“Well, well. Folk art endures amazingly, wouldn't you say? I wouldn't have thought anyone
alive would remember it.” He looked sharply at the stag. “It was, I assume, someone alive.”

"It was. One of the centaurs - you remember them;

they replaced you as guardians? - still knows some of the song. But you shouldn't be
surprised; scandal always outlives honour"

“True. For example, look at us - though we can hardly be said to be outliving anything.”

Presently the spirit grunted in satisfaction and raised a timeworn crown on his
sword-point. He put it on with a bony hand, adjusting it carefully and standing straight.
For barely a moment he looked like some mockery of a real monarch.

The stag said deliberately, “Long live the king.”

“The king lived long enough.” The dead king sat a moment, looking much like a tired man,
for the dead who may not rest know more weariness than any of us. “Tell me, did you see
anyone this night?”

“You know I did. A knight, a mage, a half-elf, assorted two-legged shortlings. They are
important to you?”

“They are important, I think.” The king said absently, “You seem curious. I had thought
you indifferent to everything.”

“To everything beneath me, which is much of the world. And you, great and loyal Peris?”

“Much the same. Of course, more is beneath a dead king”

The stag said drily, “Long though we have endured, our standards are still better
preserved than we are. May they last forever. What is their importance?”

“The standards?”

“Their importance is self-evident, or it is none. I mean the strangers; how are they
important?” “To the future of our wood and world.”

“Ah. Politics.” The stag nodded wisely. “I try to avoid politics.”

“I understand completely,” the king said casually. “I tried to avoid politics - once.”

“A question of permission to enter, and of forced entry, wasn't it?”

“It was.” He added with uncustomary frankness, “A question of entry by evil, and into
these woods - which at that time were not called Darken. Perhaps you remember the stanzas
- ”

“I do.” The stag sang, a little too eagerly for the king's liking:

BUT ONE LONE GUARD FOREWARNED THE KING: “THIS HUNT IS EVIL-STARRED; FOR THOSE WITH ARMS
AND POTENT CHARMS AGAINST WHOM WE MUST GUARD NO MORE WILL WAIT WITH EYES OF HATE AND SOULS AND HEARTS OF GALL, BUT PURGE THE WOOD OF
LIGHT AND GOOD, AND GODS FORGIVE US ALL.”

He looked expectantly at King Peris, who sighed hollowly and sang with as full a voice as
a spirit could muster:

STILL PERIS BOASTS, “STEP DOWN, MY HOSTS, AND HEAR THE HUNTING-HORN, LET MEN INVADE BOTH
WOOD AND GLADE, WE HUNT THE UNICORN.”

He lowered his sword, which he had raised for emphasis. “It wasn't that way at all, of
course. And it wasn't rebellion, or wilful treason, or any of those things. My men were
bored; I was bored. A hint or two from their commanding officer - ” he made a mock bow“ -
was all it took.” He looked around himself. “Imagine thinking anything in a short life and
a merry one could be boring. I threw away a kingdom for a day's amusement and an afterlife
of painful tedium.”

“I am surprised to hear you admit it.”

“I am surprised also. Perhaps something is troubling me. Let us change the subject.”

“I shall. Did you speak to any of the strangers?” As the king shook his head, the stag
nodded, “For I thought I saw one address you.”

“Ah. That one was a mage. He spoke first.” The king looked as though he had never even
tried to evade answering.

“What did he say to you? I could not hear.”

King Peris said with difficulty, “He knew that we were the spirits of men who had failed a
pledge, that we were doomed to perform that same task endlessly until we somehow earned
final peace.”

“Knowledgeable man.”

“Mages often are. I think he meant to remind me that I could earn final peace.”

“And what did you say to him of your present state, 0 King? For if I may be truthful, you
do not appear in full majesty. Empty majesty is more like it.”

“I told him that we were called to fulfill our oath, one day.”

“When you say we,” the stag said carefully, “I assume that you meant 'my men and I.' “ ”I was not specific. I did not mention you by name, but that does not mean he did not know you also were called to fulfill your oath.”

“Did you tell him,” the stag inquired, “How long it has been since we first heard that
call?”

The king shifted, a move of discomfort in the living. “Discussing these things is not
easy. Have you no understanding of how shameful it feels to rehearse a long-broken pledge?”

“I have more feelings than I commonly show. Let us change the subject.”

“I shall. Something troubles you.”

“Of course. I am in love.” Even now the admission came hard.

“That is always trouble. Unrequited, I assume.”

“Strangely, yes. Can you imagine my love not being returned?”

“By now, it is easier to imagine than it once was; habit and repetition make all realities
seem more real.” Seeing the stag tense, the king added hastily, “But because it was true
long ago, and for your feelings now, let us say it seems unimaginable.”

“It does.” The stag tossed his head. “I will, of course, want revenge for my hurt
feelings.”

“Feelings?” The king struck one shadowy arm with another. The blow left no mark, and the
king's expression did not change. “You can still speak of feelings?”

“I can.” The stag looked away. “I prefer to speak of them, though I still have them.”

“Time changes feelings. Time may change all things, even us.”

“Time has not changed what we do, nightly.” The stag turned his head, briefly, to look at
the north star. “I do not think it can change what I am, nor will it change what I do. I
choose, again, to betray the one whom I - the one whom I should obey.”

“Another might not so choose. Even you, after some consideration, might not.”

When the stag did not respond, the king continued, “Tell me, though you have told me often
before: is this a lover one could betray to hunters?” “One could. Does that surprise you?”
“No more than it surprises me that you would.” Without warning the stag lashed out at a
sapling with one of his front hooves. The kick left a sharp imprint in the wood. “How
could she have refused me? How can she refuse me?“ He kicked again, splintering the small tree. ”How DARE she refuse me?”

He stood trembling with anger, then mastered himself. “Excuse me,” he said to the king.
“I'm not myself today.”

The king said heavily, “I rather fear that even after ages of punishment, you are still
yourself.”

“Perhaps you are right. Still, I like to think I would not burst out so, except that I had
rather a long night last night.”

Peris nodded. “Your feelings have always been hard to contain; long ages of irony and
veiled illusion cannot hide them. As for your night, all of our nights are long.” He added
more slowly, “I have news that may interest you. A second band of strangers, seeking to
kill the first, has entered Darken Wood. They are on the same path as the first were.”

“And no sentries have stopped them? History repeats itself.”

“It does, as we do. I am inclined to make an end to repetition.”

The stag paid no attention to the king's last remark. “If these strangers are not
invaders, might they be hunters?” the stag asked indifferently.

“Hunters of men and of other bipeds. They might be lured to other hunts.” He added, “And
as for invading, this band, too, is politically important, though they are - ” he
hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Evil. One would not have thought more evil could be done to Darken Wood, but apparently
so.”

“After what you have received at the hands of Darken Wood, does that disturb you?”

“It should,” Peris said with assumed indifference. He gave up the pose. “It does. The
peace of a world is more important than my petty grievances.”

The stag pointed out, “Once, long ago, the fate of a wood wasn't.”

“Now it is.”

The stag was too stunned to respond. The king added, “I am no longer the sworn guard of
Darken Wood but I choose to return to my post. I will not hunt you this night.”

“You have hunted at my request - have hunted me, as my punishment - every night for - ”
The stag stopped. How, in this endless cycle, could he measure time?

The king nodded. “Granted. But a king may change his mind. Once you have seen these strangers, you will understand.”

“Will I? You seem sure of that; what are these strangers like?”

The king hesitated. “Complete strangers, let us say.”

He said nothing more. “Go see them. Perhaps they will change their mind.”

“Or perhaps they will hunt at my request.” The king said simply, with more emotion than he had shown before, “Look on them for yourself, and think what they mean. The hunt must end.“ ”The hunt will end when I choose it - which means that the hunt will never end,“ the stag finished bitterly, ”oh, great and loyal king.“
King Peris dropped his hands silently. ”Then go and ask them if they will hunt you. Let them slay you, let them listen to the same bitter words,
the same old pain, over and over. I also can choose - and I choose never to hunt again. If
you have ever loved these woods, this world - if you have ever loved at all - see what
these strangers mean for our world, and choose to break the cycle.” He fell silent again.

The stag ruminated - as befits a thoughtful ruminant. Finally he said, “Evidently, you
have business with those who enter Darken Wood. Might you be persuaded to leave that
business - ”

“ - for a later time? Yes. After all, as you point out, I have left my post before; I
could postpone returning to it for a while. At my time of life - ” he gave a grisly and
meaningless smile - “one day or night is as good as the next.”

“I gather you find it easy to postpone duty. A matter of habit, perhaps?”

The king scratched his ghostly beard with a ghostly finger. “Or else I am betraying my
current habits. One is inclined to hope that you, too, could betray your current habits,
as easily as you once, and ever thereafter, betrayed the For - ”

“Now who is tactless?”

“Granted. You will consider all that I said? You may still choose - ”

“I may. I will consider.” The stag bounded off, knowing he did not need to agree on a
later meeting-place with the dead king. Some meetings are all but foreordained.

Near the edge of the wood, the trail stopped abruptly, leaving only brush and a dense wall
of plants. On the outside were false vallenwood, which looked like the great trees but grew no taller than a
dwarf, some berry bushes, thorned and unthorned, and bright wildflowers.

On the inside were stands of twisted nightroot, the bane of all animal life; guantvine,
dense enough to bind the unwary; and Paladine's Tears, the tiny blue flowers that grew and
wove into an upright mat between tree trunks. Though the wall kept curious folk out, the
stag knew how many reckless souls it had kept in.

As he watched, the brush swayed and shivered under the pressure of hands.

Hands - of a sort. The stag stared at the first clawed fingers that emerged, waving in the
air blindly to push more branches aside, finding none. The scaled man-thing that followed
them out, blinking, into the sunlight stretched batlike wings in the open space.

“Kin to dragons.” There was no question in the stag's mind, though the stag had never seen
these creatures before. He knew also how few would know that:

if the stag's appearance to Huma was barely legend now, the dragons were less than that.

More armored figures followed the first. The stag backed a few steps, more for his world
than for himself. There were only a few creatures, if ugly ones, but their presence in
this wood, in this world, meant unthinkable things.

He shook himself and murmured aloud, “The Royal Peris has a gift for understatement.
'Strangers' indeed.” He tensed his muscles for flight, but stepped forward. “I greet you.”

Nothing happened. The dragon-men stared in all directions, unhearing and unseeing.

He concentrated and said more loudly, “I greet you.”

The leader leapt into the air, his wings holding him aloft a moment. Where the pegasi in
flight looked graceful, this thing looked foul as it sank back, half-rejected by ground
and air alike.

It watched the stag suspiciously. “Where did you come from?”

The stag shuddered at the hollow, awkward voice that sounded like a dried man, but he
answered it bravely. “From Darken Wood, where you are. Where have you come from?”

The dragon-thing ignored the question. “Darken Wood?” He held his sword at guard. “This is
an evil place.” He lisped slightly.

The stag wondered, none too happily, if the thing's tongue were forked.

“Evil only to those who bring evil with them.” He added to the ritual response, “Many
have. They do not leave again.” He thought, briefly, of King Peris, of the Forestmaster,
and of betrayal. “But there is much to be gained here, as well as risk.”