The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (13 page)

TAM AND HIS COMPANIONS PERCHED ON A ROCK AND LOOKED down into the folding waters of the Lion's Maw. Foam curled and spun among the shattered rocks, driving through the narrow gorge with a force that shook the ground. Tarn gazed down at the speeding water, like the back of a giant serpent sliding by. Around him, the others stared at the scene in silent awe.

"Well, I shall offer my coin and gladly," Cynddl said above the Lion's roar.” You say others have survived it?"Tam nodded.” Yes, but not easily. Men have been lost here. But there's no other way. The cliffs can't be scaled unless we leave our boat behind—perhaps not even then." Tam pointed down into the gorge.” There's our greatest obstacle: that tongue of rock. Do you see, Baore? The oars must be backed all the way to keep some control, but before that tongue of rock we must slip across the stream or we'll be smashed to bits."Baore looked at him, his face stiff as stone.” I'll man the oars, if you like," the big Valeman said, "but you're the better waterman, Tam."Tam nodded, reluctant to admit this truth. He would have to take them through, though he'd never even been in waters like these. He crouched down by the racing river, as though drawn to be near such power.” If we're unlucky enough to capsize," he said to the others, "hang on to the boat, but be wary. If you're caught between the boat and a rock you'll be crushed. Better to swim free than that."Tam looked down into the gorge again. For a long moment no one spoke. Tarn's mouth was drier than chalk, and the trembling of the ground seemed to course up his legs and drum deep in his chest.

Cynddl took a coin from some pocket in his vest. For a moment he stood looking out at the roiling waters, the coin glittering in his hand. He spun it out over the waters, where it winked in the sunlight as it disappeared into the foam. Tam felt the weight of his own coin, then flicked it as though to see if it would land crown or tail. But he lost it in the glinting water and it sank unnoticed. Baore followed Tam, his coin going farther than the others, out into the quickest water.

For a moment more they stood looking on, no one rushing to the boat, which seemed suddenly very small and flimsy. But there was no going back from here, the river wouldn't allow it. They must go forward or make a home on this rock. Suddenly Fynnol, pale as foam, stepped forward and threw a coin into the water, though it went only a little distance, as though he hadn't the strength to send it farther. Cynddl caught Tarn's eye, raising an eyebrow. But no one said a word to Fynnol.” Standing here is not making me braver," Baore said, his voice tight and dry. The big Valeman turned away. For an instant the others hesitated, then followed. They slid the boat down the rock, jumping into their places as they went. Fynnol tripped on a thwart as he went aboard, and stumbled awkwardly into his place. He sat there rigidly, staring straight ahead, gripping the gunwales fiercely. The river reached out and took hold of them, yanking the boat out into the speeding current. Tam strained against the oars, but the river did not care. It threw them to one side, then forward again. In the bow Baore took up an oar and braced himself like Assal to fend off rocks. Fynnol had sunk down onto the floorboards, as though he could hide from the Lion. Suddenly they plunged down, their bow burying, then thrust up again. Heavy spray lashed them, and they were thrown around the boat like dice in a cup. They swept forward faster and faster, and the boat began to yaw. Desperately Tam dug in his oars and brought her round. He tried to back and slip sideways to avoid a rock, but the river forced them relentlessly forward. They crashed against stone with a grating, rending sound, all of them hurled to one side. Baore shattered his oar against rock and flailed desperately with the broken stub to get them clear. But then they were past and quickly falling. Crashing down and rising up, thrown this way and that. They held on as though to a bucking horse, spray flying all around, the walls of the gorge flashing past. Twice more they crashed against rock and were torn free by the current. There was so much water sloshing around in the boat that Tam thought they must have been holed.

A jagged ridge of rock appeared and Tam put all of his weight into the oars, but one jammed against stone and slammed into his chest, throwing him back before the tholepin snapped and released the oar. The rock was directly ahead and Tam braced himself, but then, with barely a scrape, the rock shot past.

Once more they plunged down, and then suddenly they were in smooth but swiftly flowing water, the terrible roar of the Lion behind them. The others turned to look back at him, relief hardly stronger than fear. Tam heard Fynnol muttering curses over and over as he dragged himself out of the water flooding their boat. Baore still clung to the stump of his broken oar, like a man who couldn't quite believe he'd lost a limb.

"Best put ashore as soon as we're able," Baore said. His mow of hair was plastered to his face, and he was gasping as though he'd been holding his breath.” Everthing'll need drying ... and the boat wants tending to." He patted the thwart gently.” Who knows what hurt she's taken."Cynddl and Baore bailed with a will, and the water didn't rise again, relieving Tarn's fear that they'd been holed.

"Worth a coin for passage," Cynddl said, and looked at Fynnol.

The Valeman forced a smile.” What bothers me is knowing that wastrel Lion will likely squander our silver on low lionesses and strong drink ... to wash down all that water, no doubt."Even the serious Cynddl laughed. But Fynnol had not been so heedless standing before the Lion.

They were in the gorge for half an hour more, but the river only ran swiftly on. There were no rocks or narrows. Finally they were spit out of the gullet of the Lion and found themselves spinning slowly, drawn into an unexpected backwater. After the chaos of the Maw this place seemed unnaturally still and quiet. Cattails waved along the shore and water lily leaves fluttered over the boat's wake. Tam breathed in the stench of sun-warmed mud and rotting vegetation. In the bow Baore stood up, pointing with his broken oar, and Tam brought the boat up on a soft, low bank. As they climbed out, there was a splash in the water nearby.” Paid the Lion, did you?" came a squeaky voice. Tam looked up to find a man standing in the water within the shadow of an overhanging tree. He wore a ragged cloak over his shoulders, and upon his head a tall, misshapen felt hat crowned with a long feather. His threadbare breeches had been cut off at mid-thigh, exposing spindly legs. He was an old man, thin and wiry, with weathered, dark skin that left Tam wondering if he lived all the time out-of-doors. His features were sharp, the bones of his face prominent, but his eyes were bright and quick. In his hand he held a short, thin spear and on the end wriggled a small fish.” Doesn't matter," the man said.” He'll let you go or not as pleases him. I paid him, you know. People say I didn't, but I did. Paid him twice, but here I am still, washed up on this shore without hope of going on. No hope at all." "Who in the world are you?" Fynnol said, stepping ashore and staring in wonder. The man looked down into the water, raising his spear. He took a slow step forward, stiff and long legged, like a heron, Tam thought. What had been done with his fish, Tam hadn't noticed. The man lifted one crooked arm, raising the shreds of his cloak so that it cast a shadow on the water.” Me?" he said, taking another slow step.” Who are you?" "Why, I am Fynnol and these are my cousins, Tam and Baore. And this is Cynddl, a Fael story finder." The man looked up at this, his bright eyes darting back and forth as he regarded Cynddl.” Well, there are stories enough on this river, that's certain—many of them sucked into the Lion's Maw. He ate both my brothers, the Lion did, and spit me out here." His mouth turned down sourly.” But you...

he let all of you live." Some movement caught his eye then and he plunged his spear into the water, but it came up empty.

Fynnol's stance was a little uncertain, Tam noticed, as though he might have to jump back from this stranger at any moment.

"Why can't you go downriver?" Fynnol asked.” Surely all the worst water has been passed."The man looked up at him, head tilted to one side.” He waits for me yet—the Lion. He waits, but he'll not have me." "But if you go downstream he is behind you," Baore said.” You'll be perfectly safe."The man went back to stalking his fish. Tam realized that he was three-fingered—missing the two outside fingers on the hand that held the spear.

"Shows what you know about the river," the man said sullenly.” The three of us—my two brothers and I—went into the Maw, but only two came out. And when we set off down the river again we found ourselves in another gorge.""But there are only five," Fynnol said quickly.” You had passed the last."The man shook his head.” The river has more tricks to play than you know, more branches than you think. We found ourselves in the Maw again, and this time only I survived, the boat smashed to splinters. He took my two fingers, the Lion did, and here I've been ever since." He turned around and went stalking patiently back along the bank, his hunched, thin shoulders hiding his bent head.” I won't go down the river now, for he shall have me next. Or so he thinks, but I'm not fool enough for that. No, I am safe here. Only the cold, old river and her singing for company, but that's enough. Better than death, that's certain." And off he went, stiffly lifting one bare foot and then the next, placing them ever so carefully into the water. Making not a ripple where he passed.

For a moment everyone watched him go, too surprised to speak.” Well, they say the men who live in the wildlands are all a little strange," Fynnol said, "not fit for human society. But this man...!" He looked at Tam and, as though realizing how serious he'd become, grinned broadly.” We passed through the Maw!" He laughed.” And unless the Lion has leapt ahead of us downriver, we'll have smooth water, more or less, from here to the Wold of Kerns!" Fynnol and Cynddl began to spread all their wet belongings in the sun, while Tam and Baore examined the boat. The four of them tipped the craft over on the beach, and it was a sorry sight. Baore's beautiful hull was scraped and scarred and battered, though not a plank was split or loose.” It'll take some work," the boatwright said, "but it's not really so bad. We might as well make a camp here this night, for when I am done she'll need some time to dry." He busied himself with his small kit of tools, pulling off his soaking shirt to work. There was little any could do to assist Baore with his task, so they left him alone with his injured charge—a healer of boats—and they swam and fished. That night they spent beyond the Maw, rolled in blankets beneath the stars, the roar of the Lion not far off and in the background of all their dreams. Late in the night Tam fell into an unsettling dream. Their boat had overturned in the Lion's Maw, and he was whirled into the foaming white waters, dragged down into green depths, where he found a hundred others, pulled this way and that by the currents like straw men in the wind, lost in an endless, ghostly dance. All around them, like leaves in a slow whirl, glittered the coins paid for passage. He woke to find he was staring at the moon as it floated free of the treetops, the growl of the Lion rolling down the gorge on the small, cool breeze. Something moved, just beyond their camp in the shadows made by moon and trees. At first Tam was sure it was their heron man come to rob them or perform some other mischief, but no man took shape or emerged from the shadows. Very slowly Tam raised himself up on his elbows.

"You saw it, too?" Cynddl's voice came out of the dark.

"Yes. Was it that odd man we met today?""I don't know what it was. No animal, I think. More like... Well, I don't know. It was as though there were movement but nothing of substance. Like glass sinking through water."Tam nodded.” Some trick of moonlight and shadow, I think.""Perhaps," Cynddl said.” It's not long till morning. Sleep, and I'll sit up and watch."Tam was about to protest, but Cynddl was already up, his sword to hand. Tam closed his eyes but didn't immediately fall asleep. An unbearable sadness washed over him, a sorrow that would overwhelm a man's heart. But somehow it didn't seem to be his own.

It was the dream, he thought. He had been drowning in sadness, pulled down by its cold, bitter current.

THREE DAYS AFTER LEAVING THE BRIDGE AT TELANON THEY SEEMED to be on a different river. The current had lost its sense of urgency and no longer hurried along. For a time in the morning Baore and Fynnol took to rowing, but after a few hours they'd grown used to the slower pace and shipped their oars to watch the land pass quietly by.

The river was beautiful and peaceful here—in such contrast to the Five Gorges that began their journey. Springs bubbled from the banks, and broad-leafed trees appeared more often among the cedar and pine, their new greens shimmering in the sunlight. For an hour it rained and they sheltered beneath the overhanging canopy of a willow, spreading over their heads the oiled sail-cloth that protected their belongings. They watched the pattern of rain on the slick surface of the river and said not a word. The sadness Tam had felt when they camped beyond the Lion's Maw was still with him, a heaviness of heart that seemed to have no cause. Even when the sun broke through again this weight did not lift. They saw much wildlife along the banks—hart and bear, the small deer of the valleys, sleek river otters, and the crafty fox. Small gray gulls soared over the river crying forlornly, and ducks trailing strings of chicks paddled along the banks.” Do you hear that sad song?" Cynddl said suddenly. He sat up from where he lounged, "A song like a leaf falling? That is the sorcerer thrush. You won't see it, not if you spend a year looking. Creep through the wood as you might, just when you think you've found its perch the song will come from somewhere else, though you'll see no bird move. Very few have ever seen a sorcerer thrush, but it's a mark of great favor for those who do." Islands of cloud were abroad that day and cast their massive shadows upon the sparkling river, stealing away its color and glitter, and the world seemed suddenly terribly somber and not nearly so welcoming. A woodpecker hammered on a hollow trunk, the sound echoing through the shadowed wood like distant thunder. After their midday meal Cynddl spread his map out on the tarp covering their belongings and began to follow their progress carefully. Late in the afternoon he gestured to a small point of land.” Can you put me ashore here, Baore? I think this is the place I seek." Baore took up the oars and ran the boat gently up on a narrow band of sand. Tarn strung his yaka bow and, hoping to find dinner, took some of his own arrows—tipped for hunting. A natural stair of seven steps worn into the rock led up from the beach, and they found themselves walking through the sparse underwood beneath a canopy of new leaves. Tam had never seen such trees, bent and gnarled as though crippled by disease, yet they were tall, with an astonishing spread of crooked branches. The new growth sprouting from these trees seemed incongruous.

They should have no leaves at all, Tam thought, or only dry dead ones.

Cynddl led them back into the wood and up a slight slope, where a dappling of sunlight sprayed across moss and ferns. Every twenty paces or so he would stop and listen, and finally a low, liquid carillon pealed through the grove and in a moment they had come to its source: a small spring in a low embankment, from which a clear stream of water flowed.

"Here's the place I seek!" Cynddl said, looking around as though they had discovered some amazing castle out here in the wildlands.

"It appears to be a spring like any other," Fynnol said, though there was not such an edge of mockery in his voice. The Lion's Maw had dulled that, at least for a while.

"So you'd think, but once—an age ago, really—this was a dwelling place of one of the clans that lived in the Green-springs. And before them, a fortress stood here, when there were still great kingdoms on either side of the river." He waved a hand around at the wood.” You won't find signs of buildings now, for the walls have long ago been worn away by wind and rain, but if we're lucky there will be an echo of the peoples still."Cynddl stepped across the small stream that flowed from the spring, his gaze flitting from stone to fern to stone, as though he expected to find gold shining through the green.” It seems there were two ages of settlement in the Green-

springs. The Age of Two Kingdoms, the story finders call the earlier period. The Age of the Clans we call the second. Very little is known of the people who dwelt here while the Two Kingdoms stood. Even when the Fael first came to the land between the mountains the songs and stories of these people were hardly more than faint whispers. Some believe they were deep in magic, and that sorcerers of great craft lived here then. The people were artful, and though little remains of their craft now, what we have is intricate and of delicate beauty. But they were also warlike, fighting always one kingdom against the other, and in the end, we guess, this brought about their ruin." He turned around, gazing into the trees, as though he looked for stories there.” The Greensprings was empty of men for a long time after the wars of the Two Kingdoms: ruined and uninhabitable, some stories say, or inhabited by ghouls and spirits of great malice, others say. But the forest grew back, and men returned finally. These clans were infected by the hatred that lay beneath the surface, and warred among themselves until they, too, disappeared." He looked up at the Valemen.” Haven't you felt a terrible sorrow as we've traveled south of the Lion's Maw?" Baore said he had, but Fynnol shook his head in denial. Tam said nothing, preferring to keep his feelings to himself— he didn't know why.” It's the regret of these people who once dwelt here. The emotions of men live on in a place long after men have gone—like ruins of buildings and hearths. The stronger the passion-the longer it lingers. Hatred lasts longest of all, I'm sorry to say. But, here, see for yourselves." He cupped a hand and drank from the flowing spring. Tam and Baore did the same, but Fynnol stood back and did not drink.” Do you taste it—the bitterness? That's not the water. It is the remnants of the malice of men, of the people who lived and died in this place so long ago." Cynddl looked around where the twisted shadows of trees lay on the jumbled rocks and ferns.” I'll spend some time quietly here," he said, "if it won't distress you to stay in such a place for a day or two?"Fynnol snorted.” I think we can bear it," he said, and glanced at the others, shaking his head just perceptibly.

They set up their camp at the stairhead, in a small clearing among the crooked trees. Immediately they began to explore the area, ranging over the rocks and along the riverbanks. As dinnertime drew near, Baore and Fynnol dropped lines into the water, while Tam went into the wood with his bow, hoping to find something for the dinner pot.

The bitter taste of the spring still lingered, and Tam found Cynddl's assertion—that this was the hatred of men—disturbed him more than he would have expected. The idea of drinking the malice of others made him feel a bit ill, as though he had drunk poison.

Tam soon flushed a pheasant, and his yaka bow felled it from flight. He found it among a stand of stoneberry coming into leaf. The limp, warm weight of the bird as he lifted it struck Tam: the way its head lolled and hung heavily down. He smoothed the bright feathers of the neck and wondered if the regret he felt was his own or some emotion lingering from an age before, as Cynddl said such feelings did.

Tam made his way back through the trees, though the underwood was too thick to pass in places, forcing him to go roundabout and lose his way a little. Circling a patch of dense bush he came upon their Fael companion seated by the spring, lost in thought.

"My apologies, Cynddl. I didn't realize where I was." The Fael smiled.” No need to apologize, Tam. Listening for the old stories is often done somewhere deep in the mind, as though beneath the normal currents of thought. No doubt you've had the common experience of puzzling over some problem for hours, then in the middle of dinner the solution comes to you while you're buttering bread. Listening for the old stories can be like that at times." Unlike most of his people, Cynddl wore almost no jewelry, only a gold band bearing a small stone on the first finger of his left hand. He had removed this and absentmindedly slipped it over one finger, then the next. Tam looked up and found that Cynddl was staring at him.” Fynnol has undertaken this journey to escape the Vale and go into the wider world," the story finder said.” There he imagines people will be different—exotic and quick-witted perhaps. Though how he imagines he'll find such people in mniseth or the Wold of Kerns is beyond me. Baore has come because Fynnol badgers him into joining all his enterprises, I suspect." Cynddl raised his eyebrows, and Tam nodded.” Fynnol has found it's almost always good to take along someone large and strong." "Fynnol is no one's fool. But perhaps Baore wanted to test one of his own boats upon the river as well." Cynddl stopped playing with his ring.” But what of you, Tam? What has brought you down the river?" "Perhaps I have come to keep them from harm," Tam said quickly. Cynddl smiled.” Perhaps that is part of it." "Or maybe I just couldn't bear the thought of them having an adventure without me. How would I feel when they returned with all their stories and I'd spent my summer in the Vale doing what I'd done every other year." Cynddl weighed the ring in the palm of his hand.” There's some truth in everything you say, but I think there's more. Perhaps you don't know yourself?" Tam shrugged. He looked over at the running spring with its bitter taste of malice.” My father died beyond the gate of the Vale. He was out with a party of hunters seeking hart when they happened upon a company of armed men on horseback. The Valemen approached these riders in friendship, but the riders drew their weapons and fell on them." Tarn felt his throat tighten, his voice change.” Only two escaped to warn the gatekeepers. These men-at-arms had come north, perhaps fleeing the wars of the Renné and the Wills—we don't know, but many men have done this and been welcomed in the Vale. These men were planning something else and cut down the hunting party lest they lose the element of surprise. That's what the people of the Vale say, anyway.

"Archers immediately set out—men who knew every woodland path and every rock behind which to hide. These men-at-arms paid the price for their crime. Only a few escaped, fleeing south, from where they came." The spring whispered its bitter tongue and Tarn's eye came to rest on the cock pheasant lying so still on a cushion of moss.” I was only a boy, but the outside world and the men who dwelt in it became the stuff of nightmare for me. I am here to see them firsthand.... I—I don't quite know why."Cynddl slipped the ring back on his finger.” And you too were attacked by armed men beyond the gate—though you all were unharmed.""Not all. Alaan fell holding the bridge so that we might escape. So the strangers one meets in the wildlands appear to be of all types: both noble and cruel. Why I should need to journey beyond the Vale to learn that, I don't know.""This is the truth of journeying, Tarn: not every new thing you encounter will be in the world outside." Cynddl patted his chest.” Much will be here."Tam found Baore and Fynnol back in camp and they soon made a target of birch bark on one of the crooked trees and began testing Tarn's new bow. Baore was an indifferent archer, but Fynnol was fiercely competitive and, though Tam was acknowledged to be the best young archer in the Vale, would not concede defeat easily.

Cynddl appeared in the midst of this contest and fetched his own bow. It was soon clear that he could shoot with Tam; and in the end beat the Valeman, though barely, proving that the fame of the Fael archers was not without reason.” You're a very good archer, Tam," Cynddl said as they collected their arrows.” Cian taught me when I was a boy, and I've had a great deal of time to practice since." He patted his bow.” My gift from Aliel and Cian might have part of the credit." "But Fynnol shot with the same bow and didn't do nearly so well." "Fynnol's skill is with words. There he can shoot barbs with the best of them." "In the Vale, perhaps," Cynddl said quietly. He carefully parted the branches of a wild rose, searching for stray arrows.” Perhaps here is a reason to go out into the world: one might be the finest bowman in the Vale, but could one stand among the archers competing at the Westbrook Fair?" He glanced over at Tam.” Am I a man among men in my village alone, or is this also true of the wider world? Can I find a place in the larger story?" Cynddl turned back to his endeavor, reaching far into the unwelcoming bush. Tam felt a bit embarrassed by this turn in the conversation. He wasn't sure why he'd come on this journey and hadn't thought much about it. Adventure, he'd believed it was, but now he wasn't so sure.” Archery seems an odd pursuit for a story finder," Tam said, turning away from these thoughts.” Not so odd," Cynddl said over his shoulder.” Anything that teaches the mind focus is encouraged. Most are taught to play instruments, as I was as well, but archery was my passion for a time." He slipped his hand slowly back into the heart of the bush and gently withdrew an arrow. As they returned to the others Tam heard Fynnol and Baore bickering as only cousins or brothers could.” At least I didn't finish last," Fynnol was saying.” Now we'll get out the shod staff," Tam said, "and we'll all finish behind Baore.

"What's this?" Cynddl asked.

"Haven't you seen the oak staff Baore keeps tied to the floorboards?""The one with the iron tip? I thought it was for fending off rocks or some such thing.""No, that's the shod staff, or so it's called in the Vale. The ends are clad in iron and weighted with lead. Only the strongest can wield it, and Baore's staff is longer and heavier than most. Fetch it out, Baore, and show Cynddl."It took a little coaxing, but perhaps smarting from losing at archery and his cousin's taunts, Baore dug out his staff. He was soon demonstrating its uses in the clearing.

"Do you see?" Tam said.” With someone of Baore's strength wielding it, the shod staff is a fearsome weapon. It doesn't matter if a man wears mail. Baore can break the bones beneath the iron rings. Try to step under it and he'll drive you to the ground. A swordsman can't cut through the iron, and at that length Baore is a safe distance from even the longest blade."Baore showed Cynddl how the staff balanced and demonstrated how he could spin it end for end and crack a man's skull, take a sword from a hand, or drive the weighted end hard into a man's chest or head. He could hold it by one end and swing it in a great arc, clearing an area a dozen feet broad.