Wrede, Patricia C - SSC (12 page)

"I won't be treated like a
porcelain ornament," she said. "And I can be dreadfully stubborn. So
you might as well explain what's bothering you, and save us both the
trouble."

"If I knew what it was, I'd
tell you," Auridan replied. "It's just a feeling, that's all."

They rode until just before dark. A
cold drizzle began to fall as they struggled to set up camp in the gloom, and
they heard the rumbling of thunder among the nearby mountains. Auridan rigged
an inadequate shelter for Cyndal from seven leafy branches and a blanket, then
was exasperated when she insisted on joining him in hunting firewood.

The storm hit with a crash while
they were heading back toward their camp with the second load. Rain slashed
through the branches of the trees above them, soaking their cloaks in minutes
and half blinding them. Auridan shouted to Cyndal to keep close; in the dark
and the rain it would be all too easy to become separated and lose the way. He
thought he heard Cyndal shout agreement, but a few moments later, a brilliant
flash of lightning showed her forging through the trees ahead and to his right.

The thunderclap that followed
drowned out Auridan's call. Cursing, he blundered toward where he thought she
was. He ran into a tree and lost several of the branches he was carrying. As he
struggled to get a better grip on those that remained, he heard Cyndal scream.

Auridan dropped the firewood and
leaped forward. The scream had come from just ahead of him; he ought to be able
to find her easily enough. He heard Cyndal scream again, and another flash of
lightning lit the woods.

By its light, Auridan saw Cyndal
plunging wildly into the trees. Just behind her, its head a man-height above
the ground, was a creature with a long, sinuous body like a giant snake covered
with feathers. Auridan grabbed for his sword as the light faded, and forced his
feet to move faster. The image of the enormous snake hung before his eyes, as
though the lightning had etched the scene into their surface. Then he realized
that the snake was glowing. It moved forward without hurry, following Cyndal.

Auridan stumbled after it,
determined to reach the snake before it could harm Cyndal. The chase seemed to
last for hours, the darkness punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning.
Auridan was grateful for the storm; the brief flares of light were the only way
he had of being sure the snake had not yet reached its prey.

Suddenly the snake disappeared,
like a puff of smoke scattered by the wind. Almost at the same moment, Auridan
heard Cyndal give another scream. Desperately he threw himself forward. He had
an instant's confused impression of plunging through something like a thin
curtain into dryness and warmth and flickering torchlight, and then he collided
with Cyndal.

They teetered together in a tangle
of dripping hair and soggy cloaks. Auridan recovered first and instinctively
raised his sword. Then what he was seeing finally penetrated, and he stared in
astonishment.

He was standing just inside a
curtain of blackness that blocked the mouth of a huge cave. Torches burned in
iron sconces hanging from the walls of the cave. Directly across from Auridan
stood the statue of a plumed snake rearing up twice the height of a man, its
mouth open in a silent hiss. Before the statue was a low table, and in front of
it stood three men. The first was an old man robed in green. Next to him stood
the sword-seller in an identical robe of dark blue. Then Auridan stiffened in
shock. The third man was Lord Hervan.

"Your champion has arrived at
last, Sympas," said the first man. He laughed unpleasantly, and his eyes
never left Auridan. "Not a very prepossessing sight, is he?"

"Appearances are not
everything, Kessas," the sword-seller replied calmly.

Kessas snorted. "It took you
long enough to get him here."

Auridan stared at the two men in
bewilderment. Beside him, Cyndal raised her head to study their surroundings.
Auridan felt her shudder against him as her eyes fell on the statue; then she
went rigid with shock.
"Hervan?"

Hervan looked at her with a
miserable expression. "I'm sorry, Cyndal! I didn't
know!"

"Didn't know what?"
Cyndal demanded. She sounded more like herself, and Auridan grinned.

"I didn't know what Kessas
would ask! I... made a bargain, I thought it was the right thing, the only way
to be
sure
..."

"What are you talking about,
Hervan?" Cyndal said sharply.

"This," Hervan said. He
looked away from her. "Your being here."

"What your step-cousin is
trying to tell you is that either you or he will die tonight," said
Kessas. Auridan made an involuntary gesture with his sword, and the old man
gave him an unpleasant smile. "Precisely," he said.

"Hervan,
why?"
Cyndal
said urgently.

Hervan raised his head.
"Syledale. You know what it was like, after your uncle died! I wanted— I
wanted to be sure nothing like that would ever happen again. There had to be an
heir no one could question, but Chathalla hadn't shown the slightest sign, not
once in over three years. So I bargained. I didn't know!"

"Enough," said Sympas
sternly. "You made your agreement, and you must abide by it. By your own
will, you are Kessas's champion."

"And I suppose you intend me
to be yours," Auridan said.

"I chose you for that purpose,
yes."

"What happens if I
refuse?"

"If there is no contest, the
color of the serpent remains as it is, which is the green of Kessas," the
sword-seller replied. "Since he is dominant, his will would prevail and
the girl would be sacrificed."

Cyndal made a small noise and
reached for the dagger at her belt. Auridan's eyes narrowed. "And if I
agree?"

"The outcome of the contest
determines the color of the serpent," Sympas said. "If Lord Hervan
wins, Kessas remains dominant and the girl dies. But if you are the victor, the
color of the serpent will change to blue, and you and the girl will go free."

"You leave me no choice,"
Auridan said.

"Then stop this chattering and
let the contest begin," Kessas snarled.

Auridan raised his left hand and
unfastened the clasp of his cloak. He let the soggy mass slide to the floor and
stepped forward. Reluctantly, Hervan drew his sword and came to meet him.
Auridan saw that Hervan's blade was a twin to his own, and his lips twisted.
Not an identical twin, he thought; he would be willing to wager that the stones
in the hilt of Hervan's sword were green, not blue.

Warily, Auridan circled his
opponent. He had no idea how good a swordsman Hervan was, and still less what
difference the two strange swords might make in the fight. Hervan was equally
unwilling to close with him, but finally he could wait no longer. He stepped
forward and swung.

Green and blue sparks flew as the
weapons touched, and Auridan felt his sword arm tingle. He forced himself to
concentrate on fighting. Hervan was an excellent swordsman; Auridan could not
afford to let himself be distracted. He parried a vicious thrust, and more
sparks flew. They grew thicker and brighter with each blow, until the very air
seemed to shine with green and blue light.

Finally, Hervan broke through
Auridan's guard. Auridan twisted aside, but not quite in time. The point of
Hervan's sword grazed his left shoulder. Auridan felt a painful jolt in his
left arm from shoulder to fingertips. He ignored the pain, for Hervan's
desperate attack had left an opening. With all his strength, Auridan brought
his sword down across Hervan's, just above the guard. The force of the blow
tore the weapon from Hervan's hand. Before he could recover it, Auridan's blade
was at his throat.

Hervan stood motionless, staring at
Auridan with wide eyes. Auridan hesitated, and heard the sword-seller's voice
say, "You have won; now make an end."

Auridan shook his head. He stepped
back, kicking Hervan's sword well out of reach, and lowered his own weapon.
"If I have won, that is the end," he said. "There is no need for
killing."

"You must!" Kessas's
voice was frantic. "The power will not be bound unless the victory is
sealed in blood!"

"I won't kill him,"
Auridan said stubbornly.

"Fool!" Kessas cried.
"Kill him or we'll all die! Look there!"

Auridan looked up. The serpent
statue was glowing. Blue and green light rippled up and down the carved plumes,
the shimmering colors shifting crazily from one feather to another, and cracks
were appearing in the stone. Kessas's face was a mask of terror. Then, with a loud
grinding noise, a large chunk fell out of the nose of the statue. Another
followed. "Run!" shouted the sword-seller.

Auridan ran. He heard Kessas
shrieking curses behind him, but he did not look back. He saw the black barrier
at the mouth of the cave vanish as Cyndal darted through it. An instant later,
Auridan followed her, with Sympas right behind him. Auridan turned and pulled
Hervan out just as the roof of the cave collapsed with a roar.

For a moment, they stood in the
darkness outside, panting with exertion and coughing in the cloud of dust
spewing from the mouth of the cave. The rain had subsided into a cold drizzle
once more, which added to their discomfort. Sympas seemed the least affected;
he stood staring almost wistfully back toward the cave. At last he looked up.

"The power of the serpent, for
good or for ill, is broken, and I am free at last," he said to Auridan.
"For that, my thanks."

"Thanks are well enough,"
Cyndal said with irritation, "but I want an explanation. What has all this
been about?"

The sword-seller smiled. "A
fair question, though perhaps not fairly phrased. The feathered serpent that
you saw in the cave was a ... source of Power. In itself, it was neither of the
Light nor of the Dark, but could serve either as its servants willed it.

"My brother and I were bound
to the serpent long ago. We were intended to hold the serpent's Power for the
Light, but over the years Kessas delved too deeply into the things of the Dark,
and it swallowed him. Then he began searching for a way to bind the Power of
the statue to himself alone.

"He found it in you." The
sword-seller looked at Cyndal. "Your mother bore a trace of the old blood,
and she passed it on to you. That and your beauty made you the perfect
sacrifice, whose blood would bind the Power to Kessas. So Kessas made his
bargain with your cousin: a son and heir in exchange for you."

"He didn't tell me what he was
going to do!" Hervan said. "I wouldn't have agreed if I'd
known."

"You did not ask," Sympas
said sternly. Hervan looked down, and Sympas continued, "I learned of
Kessas's actions too late to stop what he had set in motion. My only hope was
to counter what he had done by choosing a champion of my own." His eyes
met Auridan's, and he smiled. "I chose better than I knew."

"That was why you tried to
give me the sword!" Auridan said.

"Yes. I was concerned when you
insisted on paying, for it meant I had no hold on you to draw you here. So I
sent you to Cyndal, hoping that you would become involved in her plans. In the
end, it was as well that you were free to choose, for you could not otherwise
have destroyed the serpent."

"I didn't—"

"The laws that governed the
Power of the statue were very rigid. Blood sacrifice would bind its Power to
Kessas; a contest to the death would bind its Power to the victor. You won the
fight, but refused to kill your opponent. Neither Kessas nor I had won, and the
conflicting Powers tore the statue apart. Had you taken the sword as I meant
you to, I think you would not have been able to keep to your resolve."

Auridan looked at Hervan. The Dales
lord looked cold and miserable and worried. Auridan still didn't like him much,
but he was glad he had not been forced to kill the man.

"What about Chathalla?"
Hervan asked urgently. "Will she be all right, now that. . ." He
waved at the pile of rubble where the mouth of the cave had been.

"Your lady will suffer no hurt
by this," Sympas assured him.

"You are luckier than you
deserve, Hervan," Cyndal said.

"I know," Hervan said
without looking at her.

"Then do not seek again to
bend old Powers to your wishes," Sympas told him.

"I won't," Hervan assured
him. Then he looked at Cyndal and said tentatively, "Will you still be
going on to Norstead?"

"I think it would be
best," Cyndal said gently. "If Auridan is still willing to guide me.
But I will return before Chathalla has her child."

"Thank you," Hervan said.

The sword-seller looked at Auridan.
"If you have no other questions for me, I must go."

"What about this?"
Auridan said, holding out the short-sword.

"Keep it," Sympas said,
and smiled. "You have paid for it twice over, once in coin and once in
service."

"I'm not sure I want a sword
that gives off blue sparks in a fight," Auridan said.

"The sword drew its Power from
the statue; with the statue gone, you have no need to worry," Sympas
assured him.

Auridan did not see how Sympas
could be so positive, but he did not like to offend the man. He nodded and
sheathed the sword, reminding himself mentally to clean it as soon as he was
somewhere dry.

"Farewell, and again, my
thanks." Sympas turned and started walking up the mountain.

"Wait! Where are you
going?" Cyndal said.

The sword-seller looked back and
smiled. "Home," he said, and this time when he walked away no one
stopped him.

The tour bus lurched down to the
end of the parking lot and expired in a cloud of blue smoke right in front of
the ice-cream stand. Janet wondered whether the driver had planned it. Maybe he
had an arrangement with the man who ran the ice-cream stand. Maybe he always
stopped here when he was driving a busload of kids.