Wandering Lark (49 page)

Very well,
Vagner thought.
But at least tell me what that thing was that spoke to us and felt like the wind...

“Something we had hoped would not know of our coming so soon,”
Ronan replied.

His presence seemed to fade even in the demon’s mind. Vagner would like to have asked more, but he heard the words
“Remember not,”
whispered with his True Name.

And once more wondered what there was not to remember.

I don’t like this,
Talena thought
.

Those aggressive trees had been one thing. Her heart was still running fast, and it was a wonder she had not wet her breeks.
They drove us this way on purpose!
To what purpose, she did not want to think.

Then there had been that voice—the creature that spoke and could not be seen. That rushed through them like a wind. She shuddered to even consider what that might have been. Definitely something so large, she could not begin to conceive of its vastness.

But now, as she rode through the trees along a well-marked trail that wound a path over mossy hummocks and skittered left and right through gnarled trees, she kept feeling the eerie sensation that there were eyes watching her every move. She turned from side to side when the trail allowed, and more than once in her peripheral vision, she thought she saw bark shift, trees stir, and eyes...large, soulful eyes that would close the moment she looked right at them.

It was enough to give a rock the jitters.

Still, for all that, she was feeling an odd kinship with this strange place. The air around her sang a song to her Aelfyn blood, and that melody wooed her like the sweet words of a lost lover returned. Called to something in the pit of her very being. The further from the Cursed Dales she got, the stronger the sensation grew. Light and trembling, the touch of it wafted across her nerves like gossamer threads, as though she were being drawn gently to the heart of a great spider web of power. And well below, she sensed a regular rhythm, the slow and ponderous beating of a giant heart. Ymir’s heart. The Heart of the World, she had once heard it called.

Talena could even feel the beat through Kessa as the mare gracefully picked her way over beds of thick moss that deadened the sound of her hoof beats. That struck Talena oddest of all. Kessa was moving as quiet as a lamb with none of her usual twitching and balking. Never before had the mare felt so calm under the saddle.

She glanced over at Lark and the big yellow beast he rode. Even Ordha’s hooves made no sound. The bard—
he’s a heretic, Talena, and you must never forget that,
she scolded herself—wore an expression of child-like wonder.
And why not?
she thought.
He is at home here...

“It’s like spring here,” he muttered as his eyes roved over the forest.

Talena frowned. He was right. The trees in the part of the forest that edged the Cursed Dales were crowned in autumn’s gold and amber glory. But here...the air was warm, and the trees wore green. Thick moss was underfoot. Flowers bloomed in patches of sunlight. And while brief glimpses of the landscape ahead through the gaps in the trees showed snowcaps atop the peaks of the Blacktooth Mountains, a rich verdant carpet skirted the range.

What was it her mother once said?

“It is always green in the land of the White Ones, even when Winter covers the rest of the world...”

“This isn’t natural,” Talena said aloud.

“Oh, but it is,” Lark said softly, reverently. “It’s the way the whole world once was...”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

His face reddened a bit. He shrugged. “It just seems natural, is all,” he said and managed a faint smile. “There is a song I learned as a lad.”

He dropped the reins trustingly and reached around, drawing his small harp from his pack.

     
“The spring of the world

     
Is fading fast,

     
The shadows seep

     
From down below,

     
The summer sky

     
No longer last

     
As darkness comes

     
To shape the way

     
For shadows to swallow

     
The green

     
And the sun shall

     
No longer be seen...”

He stopped playing and frowned at the harp in his hand.

“I’m not sure I like that song,” Talena said.

“Neither do I, come to think of it,” Lark said, still looking puzzled. “Oh well.”

He turned to put his harp away. His expression made her wonder, for he looked confused, as though he had no idea where he had learned that song. Talena watched him, wondering what was going on in his head when Kessa suddenly pricked her ears and whickered softly.

Talena hauled the mare to a full stop. Lark gave her a puzzled look, but she raised her hand to indicate silence was wise. Slowly, she dismounted from the saddle, hitching Kessa’s reins to a root. The mare’s attention was fully on the rise ahead of them now, and Talena had learned long ago that horses were faster to sense someone approaching.

She carefully eased towards the rise. Lark dismounted and followed. Close to the top of the hummock, she got down on her stomach and crawled to the summit. Lark followed her example and crept up beside her.

The path rolled downhill towards an open area where a horse and rider stood. The horse was flicking ears back and forth. The rider was on his knees, studying the ground.

A scout,
she thought. And a young one with little experience, as near as she could tell. A more seasoned scout would have noticed that his horse was on the alert. This youth wore the uniform of a Garrowye soldier. As she watched him, she realized that he was picking up farthings, brushing the dust aside as he collected them in one hand.

Greedy little...

She shook her head. If there was a scout, there had to be a troop around. She had heard no sound of clashing steel, nor the shouts of men locked in battle. Still, they could not be far away since scouts rode in short advance in forested areas like this. Talena frowned. The last thing she wanted was to be found by a troop, even of her own countrymen, because she would have to try and explain to them what she was doing out here with a heretic.
Best we just slip away and let the fool count his coins.

But then, she froze.
Wait.
Why would coins be laying on the path unless...

The scout’s horse had been looking in their general direction, but suddenly, the animal’s head whipped eastward, and by instinct Talena glanced that way as well.

The green of the forest floor was moving. At first, she thought the moss had come to life and gone creeping through the trees. Then she realized the movements she perceived were not moss, but mottled green cloaks. A very large number of them. A small army... It was hard to be certain just how many bodies were there, but she was willing to bet that more than fifty men were moving soundlessly through the woods. Some were drawing bows and arrows. Others were pulling swords.

And all of them were looking right at the clueless scout still gathering his coins.

Talena scoured the ground around her until she found a large enough stone. Before Lark’s startled gaze, she reared up to her knees and tossed the stone towards the movement among the trees. It landed true, hitting one of the green cloaks hard in the head.

The owner cursed.

The scout suddenly sprang up, dropping the farthings as he snagged his horse’s reins and mounted up.

“Bring him down!” someone shouted. “Stop them!”

Several of the green cloaks turned and pointed towards the hummock where Talena was now scrambling to her feet. She reached down and grabbed Lark by the arm and shouted, “Run!”

Of all the stupid...
Alaric’s first
instinct was to grab Talena and shake her hard. But there were green-cloaked figures rushing up the hummock towards them with swords drawn. There would be time for scolding her later...assuming they got out of this alive.

Besides, having done the damage, Talena was now urging Alaric towards the horses. “Run!” she barked at him again. “Go! Save yourself!”

It would have been a good idea had the green cloaks not been so close. And he knew, in spite of what Ronan would have said, that there was no way he could leave her to face their attackers alone.
I’ve already left too many behind and regretted it.
So he turned and drew his own blade and made ready to meet his attackers.

Talena met the forerunner of the green cloaks head on, yelling and swinging her sword. Their steel clashed, and she kicked at her attacker’s nearest knee, knocking him off balance with the blow. Before she could kill him, another came at her, forcing her to drop under the swing of his blade. He nimbly dodged her riposte and attacked again.

Alaric turned his attention to his own defense. One of the green cloaks had reached him, and under the hood, he could see a very youthful face painted green and brown to blend with bark and leaves and shadows. The youth was short too...much shorter than Alaric.

Horns!
He’s only a boy!

But that lad swung his sword with the skill of a man, and shaking off the momentary distraction of that discovery, Alaric barely got his own blade across in time to stop the attack. Rather than kill the youth, Alaric retaliated with a fist to the jaw. His punch sent the youth staggering back into the next green cloak, and briefly caused the path between the trees to be blocked with stumbling bodies.

Alaric backed away. The ground was too uneven to allow him to defend with any grace...or so he thought. To his surprise, his own body began to react cleanly with a dancer’s grace, as though he had trained for this moment. Another green-faced youth leapt at him from the side, and Alaric dodged, turning with the attack. The youth flew past, tripping over the leg Alaric suddenly extended into his path and aided by the blow of Alaric’s pommel hitting the back of his head. The blow sent the youth tumbling down the other side of the trail. His body tried to follow, raising the sword to deal a lethal blow, but he checked himself. The hesitation almost cost him when another warrior took a swing at his head, he dodged under the blow and punched hard with his left hand, and knocked his attacker back.

Alaric heard an equine squeal and turned back in time to see Vagner lunge at a green-cloaked warrior who had worked his way around behind and was attacking Alaric’s flank. The demon’s huge horse head caught the youth in the chest and slammed him into the nearest tree. The youth crumpled into a heap, and the demon opened those equine jaws as though about to devour his victim.

“No!” Alaric shouted.

Vagner stopped, looking terribly offended.

“Get down!” Talena shouted.

Alaric glanced towards her in time to see a line of archers on the next hummock were drawing arrows and aiming them straight at him. There was not time to really think about it. Alaric reached out with mage senses and snagged essence from the world around him. It swelled willingly at his bidding, and he bound it into the spell, shouting,
“Adhar clach!”

The volley of arrows that Talena dropped to avoid smacked into the hardened air and fell away. His spell shimmered, and a sparkle of translucent colors filled the air in front of him. He gasped, for he had never seen an air spell do that before...

But it had an impressive affect on the green-cloaked warriors. Almost as one, the archers and the swordsmen surging through the trees froze in their tracks and stared at him.

“Druidh,
” one of them whispered, and the word was repeated so that it spread quickly as a murmur among their numbers.

Horns,
Alaric thought.
Now I’ve really gone and done it. They know that I am mageborn.