The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (28 page)

MENWYN WAS IN A RAGE. CARRAL COULD TELL BY THE WAY HE opened the door. Carral had always enjoyed his brother's furies, for there was nothing Menwyn could do but rant. Unlike Hafydd, Menwyn would never strike a blind man—he had some twisted sense of honor, or perhaps it was merely good manners he could not give up.” Where has she gone, Carral?" Menwyn said, his voice low and flat and deadly serious.” The Prince and his villainous counselor, Eremon, are demanding to speak with you. Better to tell me." Carral swallowed. He touched a hand to his bruised cheek.” I do not know. Eremon—who is Hafydd, by the way—may strike me again at his pleasure, but I truly do not know." This stopped Menwyn a moment.” He did not strike you," he said firmly.” You fell. You told everyone you fell." "So I did, but it was Hafydd's hand that drove me to my knees." "I don't believe you, Carral. I don't." "That is your privilege, but what I tell you is true, nonetheless. Hafydd struck me savagely, as you see, because I dared to oppose the marriage of my daughter to the son of his master—though who is master in that house is open to dispute, I think. And it is also true that I don't know where Elise has gone, luckily, for if Hafydd treats me as he did before, I would surely tell. But I have nothing to tell. So by all means, set the dogs on me again. They may savage me all they like. I can tell them nothing." Footsteps sounded in the hallway and then turned into the room.” Prince Neit, Sir Hafydd," Carral said, and bowed from his chair.” You did not strike my brother," Menwyn said, his voice filled with repressed outrage.” Are you suggesting that I would strike a blind man?" Hafydd said.” You say that as though you had honor that could be offended," Carral said, fear drying his mouth suddenly.” Have a care what you say, minstrel," Hafydd said quickly.” There are limits to what I will tolerate, even from a blind man." "But what was it you said to me, the day you gave me this?" Carral touched his bruise.” That you cared nothing for honor or chivalry or vows or so-called civilized conduct. 'I am unlike any man you have ever met, in this,' I believe were your words. I do not know where my daughter has gone, Sir Hafydd. You could tear off my limbs and I would not tell you, because I cannot.

"She has gone off with a man I met in the tower. He claimed to be a ghost and would never give me a name. Of course, I did not believe him; but then, remember that night you came up to the tower and heard me speaking with another? I was talking with this very man, and when you entered the room ... he was gone." Carral paused, still overwhelmed by what had happened.” Of course, you will not believe me, but that is often the case with the truth."This confession was met by silence. Carral waited for the men to protest that he was treating them like fools.

"We know him, our whist," Hafydd said, his voice very quiet, almost still.” Twice he has escaped us, but he cannot hope to do so again."Without a word the men began to file out, but Hafydd stopped in the doorway. Carral could hear the scuff of his boots as he turned back. The silence extended a moment, and then he walked out, leaving open the door.

THE MUTTERING BEGAN AS SOON AS THEY DESCENDED INTO THE valley. Prince Michael had no idea what it was about, and finally sought out Lord Menwyn Wills, whose men-at-arms were doing the whispering. Menwyn was a cold little man who looked down on everyone with such a pained indifference that one wondered if there was anyone whose company he did not disdain. But this seemed to be something of a Wills family trait. Only Lord Carral and his daughter appeared to be free of it.” Your men-at-arms seem unsettled by something," the Prince said. Menwyn gazed at the Prince a moment, as though trying to remember his name, or perhaps hoping the Prince would realize he shouldn't ask questions of one so far above his station.” We've descended into the Cloffen Wold," he said slowly, and gestured to the trees.” So this should be a wide valley of open fields, not forest. In the Cloffen valley there isn't a stand of trees so wide that you can't shoot an arrow over it." He looked oddly at Prince Michael, as though he might have an explanation.” Perhaps the fields lay just beyond the streambed." Menwyn began to tug at the riding gloves that he wore despite the warmth of the day.” Riders have gone off in all directions to look. We are, they tell me, in a forested valley with no fields in sight—which, I will tell you, is impossible. I know the lands around Braidon Castle as well as anyone. We are not on those lands." The Wills lord let his horse go forward into the stream to drink, leaving Prince Michael to ponder. Certainly these men were turned around somehow. Michael gazed up the creek bed. Thirty mounted men milled about in the small stream, no one quite knowing where to go. The huntsmen had gone off both up- and downstream looking for signs of Elise and her "abductor," as he was being called—although Prince Michael was sure no one actually believed she'd been abducted. The huntsmen hadn't yet returned. Hafydd, surrounded by half a dozen of his guards, sat on his horse slightly apart from everyone else—and no one approached him.

All around, the Prince heard men quietly offering opinions on which direction their quarry had taken or how they'd ended up in this river bottom, shaded by strange trees that no one had ever seen before. But Hafydd was silent, waiting, brooding perhaps. Certainly he was in the grip of a slow-boiling rage which everyone else seemed to feel.

Why is everyone so afraid of him? the Prince wondered. He is an old man, still hale, perhaps, but not the equal of a young knight. He's not from a powerful family, has no allies but my father. Yet everyone fears him. I fear him.

It made no sense, yet the Prince found himself inching back from Hafydd, putting other men between himself and the black-robed knight.

When the huntsmen had not returned in an hour, Hafydd's patience expired in a sudden exhalation of oaths. He swung down from his saddle, guards scrambling to snatch his horse's bridle. With every eye on him, Hafydd splashed through the shallow water; drew his sword; and in the shattered, dancing light, struck the flat of the blade upon a rock so that the sword shivered and rang. He raised the weapon, still ringing, and closed his eyes. The sound faded but sustained, its note dropping to a dull drone. But it did not die.

Hafydd held the blade aloft and turned in a slow circle, his eyes still pressed tightly shut. Suddenly Michael found himself nearest Hafydd, as everyone else retreated around him. Hafydd stopped, his blade pointing upstream.

He opened his eyes.” He has gone this way, my whist," he said, and motioned for his horse. Sheathing the sword silenced it, though the Prince still heard a faint ringing in his ears. Hafydd mounted quickly and sent three of his black-clad guard splashing up the stream before him.

No rider moved to follow. All the horses stood rigidly still, ears up, as though they might bolt at any moment. The riders looked no more confident. And then Prince Michael's father urged his horse forward. It waded unsteadily up the slippery streambed, and the others followed reluctantly behind.

They rose before the sun and broke their fast with haste. Alaan kindled no fire, and Elise washed in cold water, and dressed in the same clothing she had worn the previous day. Her saddle seemed to have grown uncomfortable overnight, but that passed within an hour. They found their way down the hillside, beneath tall pines and firs, through a sparse underbrush. The ground was overrun in places by tangles of spreading green spattered with small blue flowers. Here and there clusters of large ferns clung to the shade, but these bore a deep crimson blush that overspread the green near the base of the fronds. She had never seen either of these plants before. But other than the trees and plants and the lack of fields or familiar landmarks, the landscape was surprisingly like that around Braidon Castle: a succession of hills and ridges, separated by deep valleys through which streams ran. The stream that lay at the foot of this slope could have been the same one they had met the day before. The same white-barked trees leaned over it, their pendulous trumpets swaying in the breeze. Elise alighted from her mare, and it nuzzled her, looking for treats she did not carry.” Do no people live here?" she asked Alaan, who filled their drinking skins from a pool.” Very few. Most who discover a path here quickly find themselves on familiar ways again, though not quite where they expect, and they can never find the path back again, search as they might. But even that is uncommon. Farther north, in the wildlands, the paths are more easily found— especially upon the River Wynnd. But here few ever find them." "Well, it is a wonderful place for thieves to hide," she observed. She let her gray drink, holding the reins and trying to keep her feet dry.

"Better yet, for fugitives from injustice." He smiled at her—or perhaps at his own attempt at wit. He slung the skins over his saddle.” We'll go up again. In places it will grow very steep and will be better for the horses that we walk. Are you frightened by heights?""No more than most," she said, twisting the leather reins in her hands. She moved to look up through a gap in the trees. She could see stone cliffs standing out starkly against the sky. Certainly there were no cliffs this close to Braidon Castle.

"Don't look so frightened," Alaan said.” The way we go will appear more dangerous than it really is."She shook her head, tugging her mare's head up from the water and pulling it near.” It isn't that. It's this place. That I am here at all... A day's ride from my home but somewhere no one has been before.""I've been here," Alaan said.” And is it not a beautiful place I've led you?""It is more than beautiful. But it is strange, all the same. What if we're lost here and can never find our way back?" Her mare jostled her, and she almost lost her balance on the slippery bank.

"We're not lost, and finding our way back is easily done. If I were to leave you here and let you go on alone, you would be back on known paths in a few hours, perhaps less."Alaan tethered his horse to a branch and sat down in the shade.” We can rest awhile," he said.

Elise glanced back over her shoulder.” What of our pursuers? What of this knight Hafydd?""I don't want to outdistance them quite yet. Let them follow us a little farther. Hafydd is nowhere near as angry as I wish to make him.""How do you know that?"

"Oh, I have known him many a year."Her mare struggled a little to pull its head free, but she would not let it drink again.” Do you not fear him—as others do?""Not as others do, but I fear him." Alaan went up the stream a few steps to a place half screened by leaves and pulled his shirt over his head. The white flesh contrasted with his darkly tanned hands and face and seemed softer somehow, though there was little sign of softness in Alaan's physique. Elise knew she should look away, but did not. As he bent to wash himself she saw a small scar on his back—a thin horizontal line beneath his shoulder blade. She didn't know what to think of a man who'd been stabbed in the back, for only a blade made such a scar. When he stood and turned to retrieve his shirt from a branch, she saw a matching scar, though longer, over his heart. She pulled her eyes away, as he emerged from behind the bush. Certainly no one survived being run through, she thought, so they were separate wounds: two attempts to stab Alaan in the heart, from before and behind. Elise tethered her horse to a tree, and she and Alaan made a meal by the streamside, saying little. The slow-running water made a small pool of silence before them, and the light sprinkled down through shimmering leaves, drenching them in gold. Morn flashed her tail to chase the flies, and a bird broke the silence with a hoarse half-whispered call. Alaan sat up with a quickness that startled her. And then the call came again.” Whist, whist." Alaan sprang to his feet, scooping up their luncheon in one motion.” They're closer than I hoped," he said, and pulled her up. He tightened her mare's girth, and boosted her up into her saddle. He was on his own horse immediately, and they set off up the streambed, too quickly, for the rocks were slick and dangerous. Both horses slithered and slid, snorting and breaking into sweat. They shook their bridles in protest, but Alaan drove them on. After a time they climbed a steep bank and cantered beneath the trees. Too soon the floor of the wood sloped up and they were forced to slow, picking their way around rock faces that broke through the soft surface of the land. These were not large—fifty feet high, perhaps, never more than a hundred feet in breadth—but they grew more numerous as they climbed.

They rounded one of these and Alaan led them to the top, where they could gaze down over the treetops below.

"There," he said, pointing.

"I don't see ..."

"Where the trees break. Can you see the stream glittering?""Yes!"

A column of mounted men crossed the water, sun glinting off helms. They disappeared beneath the trees, like ants in the grass. Elise stared a moment, unable to look away.

They will not hurt you, she thought. Only Alaan need fear. They will only take you back. Back.

She tore her gaze away.” We'd better hurry," she said.

They angled up the slope now, for it was too steep to approach directly. Alaan had an uncanny knack for finding game paths that led where he wished to go—or perhaps he merely went with the paths, she wasn't sure.

It was an arduous climb for the poor horses, and Elise found that she suffered as well. Her back was stiff and sore, and the muscles of her stomach had begun to cramp, as did her legs. Though she rode often she'd never ridden such rugged terrain, or for so many hours without proper rest. She began to regret her boast now that she could keep to the saddle night and day.

Suddenly they came out from under the trees but were met by a steep slope of fallen stone. Above this a massive cliff face lifted up, so steep it seemed to lean over them.

"Where will we go now?" she cried.

Alaan had leapt down from his horse and shook the reins over its head.” Up," he said, "but on foot for a while."Elise slid out of her saddle and pulled the reins over Morn's head. She glanced up the scree slope once more, and hitched up her skirts to climb. The rock was loose, and slipped and slid beneath their feet. The poor horses had the worst of it, and Elise was sure her mare would never have gone on if Alaan's sorrel hadn't led the way. After a few moments they stopped to catch their breath. Elise looked down the stone slope and thought that if poor Morn ever really slid she might not stop until the bottom. She glanced up again.” Where are you taking me? Surely they'll trap us here against this cliff." "There is a path," Alaan said.” It's narrow and high but passable. Your mare is of calm disposition, and Briss has been along it once, and many another strange place with me. He won't falter." Alaan patted the sorrel's nose, and with his first step set off a small slide of rock. An elongated circle of stone was suddenly in motion, rumbling down the slope for fifty feet before it came to rest again. A few pieces of rock rolled on, gathering speed as they spun until they crashed into the trees below, the sound of shattering branches clear in the quiet afternoon. Three more times they stopped before they came up under the cliff itself. There was a break in the rock above, as though a massive piece of it had fallen away, leaving a sort of stone roof. For a while this hung over them, but the slope angled upward; and soon they could almost touch this overhang, and then emerged from beneath it. Two hundred feet farther along Alaan stopped. He bent over to catch his breath and pointed at a stone ledge sloping slightly up. It broke the cliff face for as far as Elise could see, before disappearing around a corner.” We are not going up there!" "Our other choice is to give ourselves up to Hafydd. Not so frightening for you, perhaps, but death for me. I'll go on."Elise stared at the ledge in disbelief.” But we can't take horses along that!""Yes, we can. They're less afraid of heights than we—it's one of the benefits of having no imagination. They don't imagine falling, as we do."Elise was at a loss for words.

"It is wider than it looks," Alaan said.” Once you are on it you'll see. And it's not so long.""Is there no other way?"

"Only one, half a league away."A shout came from below, and Elise looked back. Men and horses were milling about where she and Alaan had emerged from the trees.

"It's a good thing I appear to have no other choice," she said, a tight voice betraying her a little.

Alaan tried to smile, but his face was grave, his hair plastered to his forehead by sweat.” Listen to me a moment," he said.” If your mare startles or begins to dance about, don't hold tight to the reins. She might throw you off. The same if she slips. Let go the reins, or she might take you with her. If she looks as though she will lunge ahead, throw yourself down against the cliff.""But she might trample me!"

"Better that than knock you off." He reached out and squeezed her hand.” It looks much worse than it is. You'll see."Alaan turned and led the way out onto the ledge. Elise couldn't quite believe that she followed, but she found herself falling in behind. To her surprise, Morn came along easily.

/ am no better than a mare, she thought, following stupidly along.

But Alaan was right. It was not as narrow as it had looked. There was a dirt track of sorts; and stunted, hardy shrubs and other plants found purchase here. The ledge was the height of a man in width and sloped gently up; and it was surprisingly smooth. After a hundred feet Elise began to breathe more easily.