Daughter of Regals (17 page)

At this, Lord Shetra turned her
bird-of-prey eyes toward Hyrim. ‘You mock me.’

‘Ah, no!’ he protested at once. Do not
think it. You must learn to hear me in my own spirit. I seek only to warm the
air between us.

‘Better that you do not speak,’ she
snapped.’ I do not hear your desires. The wind of your words blows cold.’

Instead of replying, Lord Hyrim gazed at
her with the look of intent repose which came over the Lords when they melded
their thoughts. She shook her head, refused him, climbed to her feet. But the
next moment, she answered him barrenly, as if she were too full of dust to
resist his question. ‘I have left behind a husband who believes I cannot love
him. He believes he is inferior to me.’

She cut off any response Hyrim might have
made by stepping quickly to the fire. ‘We must not keep the wood alight more
than necessary. Without a Hirebrand to tend them, the rods will decay slowly —
and we will have greater need of them.’ As if she were in a hurry for darkness,
she pulled the wood out of the fire and hummed a
lillianrill
command to
extinguish it. Then she wrapped herself in a blanket and lay down on the grass
a short distance from Lord Hyrim.

After a while, Korik asked Cerrin:

— Will her concern for Lord Verement
weaken her?

— No, Cerrin replied flatly. She will
fight for both.

Korik understood this assertion and
accepted it. But he did not like it. It carried echoes of other losses and griefs
— deprivations and hollow places which the
Haruchai
had not taken into
account during their sole night of extravagance. Dourly, he posted his comrades
in a wide circle around the camp. Then he stood with his arms folded on his
chest, gazed warily out over the grasslands and the star-path of the moon,
recited his Vow through the long watch. He could not forget any details of the
last night he had spent with his wife, whose bones were already ancient in the
frozen fastness of her grave. The Vow sustained him, but it was not warm.

Still it gave a rhythm to the sleepless
night, and the time passed as a myriad other darknesses had passed — in
ceaseless vigilance.  When the moon completed its worn traversal of the sky and
fell into the west like a weary exhalation, Korik decided that soon he would
awaken the Lords. However, a short time later Lord Hyrim struggled out of his
blankets of his own accord. Even in the bare starlight, Korik saw that Hyrim
was stiff and aching from the past day’s ride. But the Lord suppressed the
groans which twisted his face, and began to prepare breakfast.

The aroma he created revealed his talent
for the work. Korik smelled strength and refreshment and delicacy in the steam
of the broth Hyrim made — a savour Korik had not scented since the curious
healing meal which High Lord Prothall had cooked after the battle of Soaring
Woodhelven, when all the warriors and urLord Covenant were sickened by the reek
of blood and burned flesh. The food’s subtle potency awakened Lord Shetra. She
came close to the fire looking dull and pale, as if she had not slept well for
many nights; but as she ate, Hyrim’s work spread its beneficence through her,
and she brightened. When she was done, she nodded to him, approving the food as
if she were apologising. He answered with a broad grin and an apothegm which he
claimed he learned from the Giants:

‘Food is concentrated beauty — the
sustaining power of the Land made savourable and ready for strength. A life
without food is like life without tales — deprived of splendour.’

When he mounted to ride again; he managed
to limit himself to one tight gasp of pain.

The Ranyhyn ran as if they were hurrying
to rejoin the sun; and at daybreak the riders found that they were crossing
short irregular hills covered with stiff grey grass. There was no sign of human
life. The ground was arable, if not inviting; but no people had ever lived
here, It was too close to Grimmerdhore. Though dark, Grimmerdhore was among the
least potent, the most slumberous, of the Forests, the surviving remnants of
the One Forest which had formerly covered the whole Upper Land — and though
since before the time of Lord Kevin there had been no Forestal in Grimmerdhore
to sing the ancient trees to wakefulness and movement and vengeance. — still
people kept away from the severe woods. Many things lived in Grimmerdhore, and
few of them were friendly. It was said — though Korik did not know the truth of
it — that the
kresh
, the yellow wolves, had been born in Grimmerdhore.

Yet the Bloodguard did not waver in his
determination to pass directly through the
Forest
. It would
lengthen the journey by days to go around, either north or south. Still, he
exercised added caution. As the company cantered into the new day, Korik sent
one of his comrades wide of the company on each side, to increase the range of
their wariness.

 By midmorning, his caution was rewarded.
Korik received a call from one of the ranging Bloodguard, who was out of sight
behind a hill. He stopped the company and waited. When the caller came over the
hill, he was accompanied by a woman mounted on a Revelstone mustang.

She was a brisk young Warhaft, and her
Eoman was riding patrol along the western borders of Grimmerdhore. She asked
for news of Revelstone, and when she heard of Lord Mhoram’s vision, she
requested permission to accompany the mission. But Lord Shetra ordered the
Warhaft to remain at her scouting duty, then inquired about the condition of
Grimmerdhore.

‘Wolves,’ the Warhaft reported. ‘Not the
yellow
kresh
. Grey and black wolves — nothing else. And little of them.
Small packs raid outward, find nothing and return. We have avoided them so that
they would not be wary of our scouting.’

‘No sign of the Grey Slayer?’ Shetra
pursued. ‘No scent of evil?’

‘The
Forest
conceals
much. But we have seen nothing — heard nothing.’

The Warhaft and Shetra exchanged a few
more details, and the Lord refused an offer of help for the crossing of
Grimmerdhore, Then the mission started eastward again. As they left the Warhaft
behind, Hyrim waved back at her and said as if he were lonely, ‘It may be that
we will see no other people until we gain Seareach.

‘I would have been glad for the company
of her Eoman.’

‘They would slow us,’ Shetra returned
without looking at him.

Korik sent two Bloodguard wide again. In this
formation, he was confident of the company’s readiness except on one point:
Lord Hyrim’s horsemanship. Since the previous day, Hyrim’s scant control over
his riding had deteriorated — the combined effect of rougher terrain and
extreme soreness. Now at every jolt he clutched like a drowning man at the mane
of the Ranyhyn; and between grasps he used his staff like a pole to steady
himself.

—If he falls, I will catch him, Sill
promised.

But Korik was not reassured.

—At full gallop in Grimmerdhore, he will
be at hazard.

Sill stiffened, but could not deny Korik’s
point. He proposed constructing a harness for the Lord, then discarded the
idea. The Bloodguard had no wish to affront the Ranyhyn that had chosen Hyrim:
they preferred to carry the additional risk themselves. Korik drew calmness
from his Vow and observed to his comrades that the question of Hyrim’s riding
would soon be answered.

Just before
noon
, the company
swept over a ridge and came within sight of the
Forest
. The hills
had hidden it until it was almost upon them. It loomed around them on the east
and south as if they had surprised it in the act of trying to encircle them.
But now that they had seen it,
Grimmerdhore
Forest
stood up out
of the grasslands like a fortress:  its black trunks grew thickly together as
if to form a wall; its gnarled limbs bristled like weapons; its shrouding dark
green seemed to shelter lurking defenders. And over all the ground before and
between the trees were brambles with barbed thorns as strong as iron. They
interwove with each other tightly, to resist any penetration, and at their
lowest they were taller than Korik.

The Ranyhyn stopped, unbidden: they were
sensitive to the denying will of the
Forest
, though the trees had
never held any enmity for them. The riders dismounted. Lord Hyrim stared at
Grimmerdhore as if its mood confounded him; and Lord Shetra dropped to the
grass, felt it with her hands, staring all the while at the trees — trying to
read the
Forest
through the
sensations in the ground. When Hyrim said, ‘Never have I seen Grimmerdhore so
angry, she nodded slowly and replied, ‘Something has been done to it —
something it does not like.’

Korik was forced to agree. In the past,
the ancient ire of the Forest, the hatred for people who cut and burned, had
always been drowsier than this, more deeply submerged in the failing
consciousness of the trees. Still, what he could see of Grimmerdhore did not
look sentient enough to be active.

 —Then the peril lies in what has been
done to the
Forest
, said Tull,
completing Korik’s thought.

— Unless a Forestal has found his way
here, Runnik suggested.

— No, Korik judged. Even a Forestal would
require much time to awaken Grimmerdhore. There is another danger within.

Gradually, the Lords began to resist the
mood of the
Forest
. Hyrim
started to prepare meal — a large one, since he would not have the use of a
cooking fire again until the company was past Grimmerdhore —and Shetra walked
to the brambles to touch them with her fingertips and listen to the murmurings
of the wind. When she returned, she had reached Korik’s conclusion: there was
not enough wakefulness in the timbre of the wood to account for Grimmerdhore’s
mood. Something else caused it.

‘Not the wolves,’ said Hyrim, sampling
his fare. ‘They have always been at home in the
Forest
. And they
care for nothing but themselves unless another power is there to master them.
Another mystery I hope I will not be asked to unravel. Riding is challenge
enough for me. Shetra nodded absently, ate the food Hyrim gave her without
paying it much attention.

In spite of their concern, the Lords did
not delay. They ate promptly, then left the Bloodguard to pack their supplies
and went together on foot to the edge of the brambles. There they raised their
arms, held their staffs high, and gave the ritual appeal for sufferance to the
woods:

Hail, Grimmerdhore!
Forest
of the
One
Forest
! Freehome
and root, and preserver of the life-sap of wood! Enemy of our enemies!
Grimmerdhore, hail! We are the Lords — foes to your enemies, and learners of
the
lillianrill
lore. We must pass through!

‘Harken, Grimmerdhore! We hate the axe
and flame which hurt you! Your enemies are our enemies. Never have we brought
edge of axe of flame of fire to touch you — nor ever shall. Grimmerdhore,
harken! Let us pass!’

They shouted the appeal loudly; but their
cry was cut off, absorbed into silence, by the wall of the trees. Still they
waited with their arms raised for a long moment, as if they expected an answer.
But the dark anger of the
Forest
did not waver. When they returned to the
company, Lord Shetra said squarely to ‘Korik,  ‘
Grimmerdhore
 
Forest
has  never
harmed the Lords of its own will. What is your choice, Bloodguard?  Shall  we
attempt passage?’

Korik suppressed the tonal lilt of his
native tongue to speak the language of the Lords flatly, that what he said was
both a decision and a promise. ‘We will pass through.’

With a silent nod, his comrades turned
and called to the grazing Ranyhyn. Soon the company was mounted in formation,
facing the
Forest
. Korik spoke
quietly to Brabha, and the Ranyhyn started forward, walking directly at the
fortifying brambles. When Brabha was close enough to nose the thorns, a narrow
slit of path became visible before him.

In single file, the company walked into
the shadowed demesne of Grimmerdhore.

The thorns plucked at them as they
passed, but the Ranyhyn negotiated the path with such easy skill that even the
long blue robes of the Lords suffered only small rents and snags. Yet the way
was long and twisted, and Korik’s senses quivered at the vulnerability of the
company. If the brambles within the
Forest
were active, the riders
were in grave danger. Korik sent a warning to the Bloodguard who rode nearest
the Lords, and they braced themselves to jump to Hyrim’s and Shetra’s defence.

But none of the bushes moved: the low
breeze carried no sound of awareness through the thorns. And then the brambles
began to shrink and thin until they fell away like a sigh, leaving the riders
in the hands of the
Forest
itself.

The air around them was thick and deep
almost audibly underlined with slumber; and it shifted faintly through the dim,
mottled shadows like an uneasy rest, disturbed by dreams of damage and bloody
repayment. It smelled so heavily of moss and damp mouldering soil and rot and
growth that it was hard to breathe: it seemed to resist the lungs of the
riders. And the crowded branches blocked out most of the sunlight: between
occasional bright swathes of filtered lumination the trees seemed to brood in
gloom, contemplating death.