The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (18 page)

"I've heard of trees turned to stone," Tarn said, "but none so large as these."

Cynddl reached out and patted the stone as it came abeam.” But these were once trees, all the same," he said.” Ancient cedars, though of a massive kind. I can't begin to guess how this has happened to them.""A forest of water and stone," Tarn said. He felt incredibly small. The girth of the trees was enormous, their crowns lost in cloud. And here he was drifting among the roots like an insect on a leaf. The place was somber and still. No sound of wind, only a low swell, rising and falling and slapping on stone. Trees appeared out of the slowly curling gray, then fell astern, silent and lifeless.

"Have we died and don't know it?" Baore said.

Fynnol turned and looked at his cousin, his dark features taut and creased.” What are you saying?""If there is a land of the dead," Baore said flatly, "it would look like this."There was a swirl in the water a few feet away and a flash of white, barely visible.

"What was that?" Fynnol said, starting back.

"At least the fish are alive," Cynddl said. Another tree drifted out of the fog.

"Where are we, Cynddl?" Fynnol asked softly. Tarn heard no trace of humor in his cousin's voice now. Fynnol turned toward their Fael companion.” This seems like a dream landscape to me. Not a real place. But it's a disturbing dream." Fynnol reached out and let his hand run over the stone of another tree—and then he struck it hard with his fist.” Where are we!" he shouted.

Cynddl stood in the center of the boat, his feet braced, an oar in hand.” I don't know, Fynnol," he said.” I've never heard of such a place." "Could we have entered some lake that is undiscovered?" Baore asked.” Does that seem likely to you?" Cynddl said. Baore didn't answer. He ran one hand deep into his mow of hair and stared at the passing trees as though they were ghosts rising up to haunt him. Some other shape took form in the murk, dark and long, like the hull of a ship: a fallen tree. The size of these cedars was clear now, for even lying half-covered in water it was taller than Baore. They all reached out and felt the stone bark.” Look how long it is!" Baore said as they passed.” These trees must stand two hundred feet." "It's as though a mad sculptor had been at work," Tarn said, "at work for a hundred years." The fallen tree ended in a massive tangle of stone roots. The gunwale of the boat bumped gently against stone as it floated past.” Will this mist never lift?" Fynnol asked, his voice almost a whine. He was moving about in the bow, unable to keep still, looking this way and that as though he expected something to leap out of the fog. Baore had fallen silent, and slumped down in his seat. He's met something his strength is no match for, Tarn thought. They passed a broken stump, like the base of a column that would hold up the sky, and then they were back in the featureless gray.” If we have passed through the forest," Baore said, "I don't like to think what we'll meet next." They drifted, unable to mark any progress in the oppressive gloom, the boat rocking gently over the low swell. The four sat silently, staring into the fog, each in a different direction, waiting—for what they weren't sure. And then the drowned sun appeared, nebulous and faint, casting a muted, shadowless light into the colorless world. Tam had the impression that they were moving again—that a current carried them along through the mist, which seemed to grow thinner around them.

"Did you hear that sound?" Fynnol said.” Like someone calling?""It was only a bird," Cynddl said.

"No. Listen.... There it is again."Tam heard it this time, but it seemed to him quiet speech floating over the water. Then the knuckle knock of wood on wood.

"Don't . . ." Cynddl said, as Fynnol cupped his hands to his mouth to shout.” Let's see who it might be first.""But they might know the way to land," Fynnol said.

"Only if they can see through cloud." Cynddl dipped the oar he held and began to paddle forward, still standing. The mumble of voices drew clearer, and the story finder set his oar down gently and strung his bow, tugging at his sword to make sure it would come easily free.

The boat drifted into a hole in the fog fifty feet broad. On its edge men appeared, dark silhouettes standing knee deep in swirling gray.

"There is your land, Fynnol," Baore said.

And then one of the men gave a shout and pointed at the companions in their boat, snatching up a bow as he did so.

Cynddl let fly an arrow.” It's a raft!" he shouted, and dropped down, letting fly another arrow.

"They've found us again!" Fynnol shouted.

Tam threw himself down hard on the slick floorboards, searching for his bow. An arrow buried itself in the planking near his head.

Tam swore, strung his bow, and jumped up to his knees, an arrow ready. But there was no target, only a river awash in twisting cumulus.

"Where ... ?" he whispered.

"Gone into the fog." Cynddl hunched down, his eyes just over the gunwale. He pointed.” The current runs that way. Back the oars a little, Baore, and put some water between us." They drifted into fog again, but it began to thin; and the silhouettes of treetops appeared, dark spires like arrows aimed at the sky.” There is more current here," Baore said.” See how quickly the trees pass?" They emerged from fog into a stretch of sunlit river, and there a raft floated, manned by men-at-arms dressed in both purple and black. Arrows began to fly again, and Cynddl and Tam sent a few away before Baore managed to pull them out of range. They drifted for a moment, the men on the raft shouting threats and curses, for some of their companions were down, wounded.” They'll go back into the fog in a moment," Tam said.” I don't want to find ourselves within arrow range again. Can you carry us nearer the far bank, Baore?" Baore nodded and began to work his oars. The mist from the shore stretched out over the river again, and the raft sank into it like a stone into water. For a moment they pressed on, gazing into the fog, listening intently. Muffled shouting could still be heard, but from where it came or what distance Tam couldn't guess. And then suddenly an arrow pierced the water nearby, bobbing to the surface.” There!" Cynddl shouted, and shot again. The raft appeared out of the fog, nearer than they would have guessed. Fynnol scrambled into Tarn's place at the stern oars. Arrows began dropping around them like hail and both Cynddl and Tam let fly arrow after arrow. An island lifted up before them, rising out of the river, mantled in green. They could hear the water chattering and then white water and standing waves appeared.” To the left!" Cynddl called.” Put the island between us." With an effort Fynnol and Baore missed the head of the island. Tam braced himself to meet fast water, but before them the river stretched still and lazy, the fog thinning and a soft sunlight breaking through.

"How can this be?" Cynddl said, turning back to the others.” Where are the rapids?""This channel must be deep," Tarn said, "while on the other side of the island it is shallow and strewn with rocks."Cynddl gazed around at the river.” But I could see down the other side. Didn't you see a fall of several feet? This channel has no fall."

Tarn, too, stared at the river, but there was no denying that it flowed easily on, not broken by a ripple. He looked back the way they'd come, and found Fynnol slumped over the oars.

"Fynnol? Are you hurt?"

His cousin shook his head.” My side," he whispered, and Tam realized Fynnol had been rowing too hard for his injured ribs.

"Out of there, Fynnol. Let me take up those oars." But Fynnol shook his head.” I can't draw a bow. Stay as you are.""Do you think that raft can ride the rapids?" Cynddl asked.

Baore shrugged.” If they're lucky. If they built it well. But they were men-at-arms not shipwrights—or rivermen, for that matter."They came to the foot of the island then, but there was no raft to be seen. For a moment they all stared intently at the river. Tam pointed at the tip of the island.” There's a log and a tangle of line."They gazed at the end of the island, which was gravel and rock with small poplars shimmering in the new sun. Behind this a thick forest arched up the spine of stone that formed the island.

"They could be in the trees, waiting to shoot us if we draw near," Fynnol said.

"Even if someone managed to get ashore," Tam said, "he won't have kept his bowstring dry—if he kept his bow at all. I think it's safe enough. I'd like to know what's become of our hunters. Unless you want to be constantly on the watch from here to the Wold of Kerns?" "Tam is right," Cynddl said.” Can you man the oars, Fynnol, and let the three of us go ashore? Better if you keep the boat out in deep water in case we've made a terrible mistake." Fynnol nodded, though the thin mask he managed hardly hid the pain he was feeling. His hair was plastered to his glistening forehead, black against white—too white, Tam thought—and the stillness of his eyes said everything. There was no mischief there today. No clever remark being fashioned. Fynnol had been lost in the forest of stone and water—the land of the dead, Baore had called it—and he would be a while finding his way out again. Fynnol nosed the boat into the eddy, where the log washed back and forth against the shore, the tangle of rope swaying like lifeless tentacles. Baore and Tam followed Cynddl, who splashed into the shallow water, bow in hand. A low gasp sounded, followed by a moan and a choking cough. Cynddl and Tam drew their swords, and Baore raised his staff. Lying half beneath the log, caught in the snarl of lines, lay a man in a purple surcoat. A thin crimson rivulet circled about him and streamed off down the river, and from his chest an arrow protruded. As Tam stepped over the log the wounded man's eyes flicked open.” I am dying quickly enough," he said softly.” You've no need to hasten it." Tam could see the man's hands in the water, empty of weapons, so he crouched down so that he could hear what the man said over the sound of the river. The stranger was perhaps in his third decade, his handsome face unnaturally white, dark hair drifting about it like kelp.” We've no desire to kill you at all, but you've hunted us without reason." .

"Without reason?" The man closed his eyes a second.” You're the allies of a demon. That's reason enough.""A demon? Alaan? He was a stranger, a traveler we let share our fire out of kindness."The man's eyes seemed to focus on Tarn for the first time.” You're one of those who disturbed the battlefield by Telanon Bridge. For days we watched you, waiting. And then he came, just as that cursed captain predicted. You can't keep what you have. The black guards will have it. Better to live. That would be my choice.""But we have nothing!" Tarn protested.” Whatever Alaan thieved from your lord, he didn't give it to us."The man moved a hand to his chest, cringing from pain. He stared up at Tarn, his eyes wide with a terrible knowledge. His lids grew heavy, and Tam could see him struggle to keep them open—open to the light.

"Tam . . ." Fynnol said from his place in the boat.” We should not tarry. Perhaps there are others about.""No..." The man reached up and placed a hand on Tarn's arm, but there was no strength in the fingers.” Stay a moment more. I won't keep you long, I think. Already the world seems to be drifting away—or I am drifting. Here," he said, gesturing weakly, "take my sword. It's a good one. But stay a moment more.""But that is my arrow in your heart," Tam said softly. The man nodded.” Yes, but it might have been my sword in yours—and perhaps you tell the truth and we had no cause to be hunting you. If that's so, we've paid." He gestured to his sword, as though he would offer it again, but did not.” Flee the black guards," he said so softly Tam barely heard.” Flee them at all costs." The man pressed his eyes closed, then opened them, shaking his head weakly.

"I cannot hold," he said.” My life flows into the river." He clutched Tarn's arm.” Drag me onto the shore," he whispered.” Let the crows have me. Don't leave me to the swimmers." He looked up at Tam, tears appearing: tears and hopeless fear.

He gasped and seemed to relax, his eyes fluttering closed. A long sigh escaped him, and he lay still, the vein of red still coiling into the current. The river chattered and muttered. For a moment wind rattled through the poplar leaves, and then was still.”

Good-bye, man-at-arms," Cynddl said.” You didn't even tell us your name so that we might send you properly on your way." He crouched down beside Tam.” He belongs to the river now. Help me with him." "No," Tam said.” He begged us not to do that. I'll drag him ashore myself." "But, Tam, the river has claimed him," Cynddl said.” I wouldn't meddle in this. He would've killed you and left you to the river without a thought." "Perhaps so, but I'm his murderer and my claim is great. The river won't have him. His grave ashore will be lonely enough." Tam pulled the man's sword from its ring and began cutting away the lines that bound him. Baore took the man's feet and Tam the shoulders, and they carried him, heavy and lolling, up into the cedars above the high-water mark. With the spade from the boat they scraped out a shallow grave, mounding the earth over the body. All the while Fynnol waited nervously by the boat and Cynddl stood guard with his bow, pacing back and forth as he gazed into the shadows, and urging his companions to hurry. When they were done Tam drove the man's sword into the ground for a headstone. They stood around the grave, Baore and Tam breathing hard from their labor, their hands dark with dirt.” Are you satisfied, Tam?" Cynddl whispered. Tam shook his head.” His children will never know what became of him ... or even where he lies. They will always wonder." Tam bent and wiped his hands on the spring grass. Cynddl stared at him a moment, then said softly, "Let's look up the other channel before we go. I want to see these rapids again—if they're there at all." They set out along the rocks, alert for other men who might lie hidden in the underwood. They climbed onto a finger of stone and looked up the length of the island. The water foamed and flashed in the sun, falling and swirling around rocks and along the shore.

Tam waited for Baore or Cynddl to say something, but the only explanation offered was the sound of the water rushing over stone. Even Eber could not translate it.

"It is a river with many branches," Cynddl said at last.” Isn't that what the man below the Lion's Maw told us?""Yes, and we thought he was mad," Tam said.” There have always been tales told in the Vale.,. of men lost on the river, traveling through lands they'd never seen, taking a fortnight for a seven-days' journey. Old wives' tales we called them." He turned to the story finder.” How did we find our way onto this hidden river, Cynddl? And how do we get back?"Cynddl picked up a rock and flung it out into the speeding waters, where it made barely a splash.” I don't know the answer to either question." He turned and looked down the broad, sunlit river.” Perhaps this is a place where the branches meet and ahead lies the Wynnd we know.""Or perhaps there are stranger things awaiting us," Baore said.” But let's get away from this place, at least. There might still be men-at-arms about." He reached out and took hold of Tarn's shoulder, gently turning him away. They climbed down from the vantage point and walked over the exposed gravel bar, feeling the heat from the sun-warmed stones. The aroma of the trees' new growth scented the air, sweet as new-cut hay. As soon as Fynnol saw them he began to push the boat out into the moving stream.” I thought you'd spend all day in this place!" he said, as the others clambered aboard.