Greyfax Grimwald (6 page)

“Ill fortune awaits those who have dealings with the River. I have crossed it many times in days long I past, but have not journeyed beyond its fastness in these later years. There must be a great need for you to venture here now in these times. Atlanton Earth is perilous and troubled, and .I regret to say, not as hospitable as of old. A great crisis is, I’m afraid, closer to hand than one would like to say.”

“But we may still trade news of a nature more cheery than that. And enjoy our meal as we may,” broke in Froghorn. “Ill tidings only give me terrible heartburn.”

“A man following my own thought on the matter,” replied Bear, eyeing hungrily the slices of fruits and bread that lay beside the small, neat fire. “A little honey would go a long league now in brightening my breakfast, but since 1’m here, I might as well take a taste or two to keep my strength.” He eagerly sat down between Dwarf and Greyfax, took up a half loaf of tuck, or so the two called their travel fare, and began spreading it with butter from the pot near the fire.

Greyfax withdrew from his long gray riding cloak a small round box, covered with what first appeared to be dents and scratches but upon closer inspection was carved figures and script. He spoke three words slowly, moved his right hand above it, and there beside Bear was a small tote keg of rich clover honey, so fragrant and pure, Bear rolled his eyes and began to stroke it with one huge paw, stir ring and feeling the texture of it, and finally bringing a sticky sweet finger to his mouth to taste it.

“Now this is what I call magic,” he said, between smacking lips and satisfied grunts. “Truly an art to be looked into.” And his voice was lost in low, con tented rumbles as he set to work on the honey, drooling and slurping as much as even good bear manners allowed, nodding his approval every few bites.

To Otter’s delight, a burnished copper plate appeared before him through a haze of white smoke, laden with plump wild berries, apples, and last, in

the center, fat golden fruit that shimmered in a deep silvery light.

For Dwarf there was a large assortment of cakes, prepared as of old, thin and well baked, in the usual dwarf way, in the shape of the head of a hammer.

“Our gossip can wait until we fill ourselves,” said Greyfax, settling down to his own fare, which seemed to consist of a cup of some misty liquid he took from a bright gold flagon inscribed with silver. Its edges caught the sunlight and danced merrily each time the wizard lifted it, and to Otter, each time he glanced at it, there seemed to come a gladness in his heart. Bear ate noisily and Dwarf studied the two men quietly as he ate, noticing and making note of each thing about them. Of the younger, he could detect nothing familiar, and decided their paths had never crossed before this moment. Yet the other, Greyfax, seemed to recall to him someone of old, and a waking dream enveloped him. In it he saw a long, warm room, with a glowing fireplace, and snow outside from deep midwinter, and a figure that looked like his father sitting in a low, comfortable green chair across from another figure, a man figure, yet also of other forms, a Master, one who changed shape as the fancy moved him, or necessity, or tune, and then he looked closer at that dreamlike face, old and ageless at once, and found himself staring deeply into the living, waking eyes of Greyfax, elder of Grimwald, who smiled mysteriously, then turned back to a question that Otter had asked and Dwarf had not heard.

“I
t’s quite simple, Master Otter, for one to create anything he likes by imagining it so hard that in truth it’s hard to tell what’s real from what’s not. You saw only what I was imagining,” said Greyfax, returning his cup to its case and placing it deep within the folds of his cloak.

“Well, it’s beyond, me, “ grumped Bear, “but that honey didn’t taste anything at all like a wisp of fancy, or any sort of imagining that I could do. “

“It was there. All I had to do was suggest it.” Greyfax stood and walked over to where Froghorn was packing their saddlebags, and the two spoke in a language Dwarf could not make out, then turned.

“Come now, friend Dwarf, how was it you left the mountain and risked die perilous crossing of Calix Stay? Surely you’re not simply out for a walk.”

I really can’t say, Master. It came over me one day as I listened to the river that flows in those deep parts where I lived long and alone. Something told me it was time to move, and it seemed that my feet rather than my sense led me here. As for die rest, I haven’t the inkling of a feather cap what to do, or where I’m to go, but I thought now, since we’ve crossed in a place known to me long ago, that I would make to my cousin’s house and seek advice there.”

Greyfax and Froghorn exchanged troubled glances, and Broco thought he saw sadness lingering there in the eyes of die two Masters.

“Dear friend Dwarf, I must, I’m afraid, be the bearer of ill ridings at the very hour that has seen fit to have us meet once more.”

Before Dwarf could think about that, Greyfax went on, his face slightly shrunken and older-looking now, the deep gray eyes darker, and seemingly tired “Not two days ago, Froghorn and I first entered this country, and found to our great dismay that all of our friends here of old have long been slain or fled away. Your cousin’s house is in ruins, the anvils stilled, and the mines filled with the dust of yean. All there is now is old Creddin, who is only waiting his time to run out so he may return to where he began. Of the facts, I know none, but from what we could make out, a great battle was waged here close to twenty years ago, in Man’s reckoning, and all your kin were slain, or taken by the darkness. We have been on the road long now, trying to see as best we can what’s to be done, and I’m sorry to report that this has been much the same in every land we’ve traveled. Wars between all kinds, famines, plagues, great fires. Evil times indeed are these.”

Dwarf coughed, got up, paced a few steps, clearing his throat loudly to cover his soft weeping at the news of the dark fate of his kin. “I’m afraid I’ve really led you both into evil fortunes, dear friends,” he spoke to Bear and Otter, who were sitting uneasily, looking from Greyfax to Froghorn, to the countryside surrounding them, as if at any minute they expected to see dark hoards sweep down upon them from the edge of the forest. “I had counted on the aid of my cousin, and perhaps to have tarried there until I could decide what further to do. Now I hear that he and his house are destroyed and in ruin, and I’ve no other plan to serve in its stead.”

Froghorn spoke now, standing and looking deeply into the fire. “Try not to be without hope or plan, friend Dwarf. As dark as it may seem now, shadows have a way of passing if one holds true.”

“He speaks wisely,” said Greyfax, “and I think the thing for you to do now is to try to make a plan that will hold you until more is brought to light. I would, in other times, counsel you to recross Calix Stay, but now it is most difficult, and I do not think the River would allow you over again. Many things have changed, and it guards its dominion ever more closely. It would be difficult even for me to venture a crossing, and I know it as well as any who have ever mastered its timeless flow.” Greyfax broke off, his eyes filling with time and dimming until he was far away, withdrawn, looking to the others as any old man, drawn and bent with age. Froghorn watched him worriedly, a frown of concern spreading across his fair features. After what seemed centuries, Greyfax spoke again. The light had returned to his face, and age and care passed, and once more he was commanding and firm in his stance, his voice bell-clear. “Friend Dwarf, I think you and your companions must find a Safe haven here, even upon this country, and stay out of reach of either men or other kind, until I return. This may be, even in its ill timing, a far better stroke than any of the wise could have struck.” He chuckled, a rippling flight of laughter, his eyes twinkling and flashing. “How well-laid plans play upon fate, like harpstring and lute. This, indeed, may have been even more than we could have ever hoped for.”

Greyfax chuckled again, sitting down by the small lap of flames, and in a thrice the bright orange and red lips of the fire had leapt up and touched the wizard’s brow, then opened in a great wave of white foam that roared like the distant Sea of Farcrossing. In it, as they all gazed upon it, great histories began repeating’ themselves in blue and green and bright white pillars of fire, huge hosts of men and elfin kind, and dwarfs and animal kingdoms that made Otter and Bear gasp, for there among them were Othlinden, king ruler of otters, and Bruinthor, great lord of bears. Then shadows passed over each, until there were many forms lying slain, and towers cast down, and the great kingdoms fell one by one into ruin and passed away slowly, sadly, on the blade smoke born of war. Otter wept openly as the animal kingdoms waxed, then waned, and flowed away across the River, past and forgotten in their glory. Bear clenched his great bear fists and gnashed his teeth in savage anger as he watched the traitorous defeat of Bruinthor, who vanished in the battle, never to appear again to living soul.

Dwarf gasped as he saw plainly before him the sit ting room of his ancient home, a room both homely and comfortable, low green chairs of ancient make that removed all weariness when you sat in them, a fire dog that spoke rhymes when asked, a pewter cop that filled itself with clear springwater, cold and pure, from the Endin River that ran deep among the dwarfhalls of old. As he watched, the music began, the songs, and his eyes widened as he saw the gray figure sitting across the years by his father, looking exactly as he did now, unchanged; then there came a small spanner into his sight, and he knew it was him self. This vision lasted long, then the flames darkened again, and a great, vile winged form swept over the light of the fire, darkening all about it and bringing | a pall even over the sunlight of the clearing where they now sat, at so great a distance in time and space, as if the presence of its evil memory yet held powers over those of the light. The animals shuddered and whined, and Dwarf covered his eyes.

When they looked again, it was gone, but it had gone deep into them, and although dismissed, was not forgotten. There were visions then of fair kings, handsome and heartening to look upon, but without all the majesty of those that were before, although they were still fairer than the fairest now. Through their hair a silver light shimmered, making their brows aflame with what appeared to be sunlight dancing on clear, untroubled water. Their queens were of such beauty the heart quailed to look upon them full, and were all come of the line of elfin elders, wise and kind. After these, another shadow fell. Otter and Bear found the visions of the fair kings and ladies disquieting, as if there was some thing there they were trying to remember, although they could not find what, and forgot once more as the darkness crossed the flames. The fire seemed to burn less fiercely now, and Dwarf saw a small, lonely figure kneeling by flowing water in a deep dwelling. He raised himself to cry out, but the picture faded and passed, and there were the three of them, trotting along through Gilden Far, by Gilden Tarn. At once, they were at Calix Stay, and passing through that roar and mighty mist again, they saw themselves land upon the far side, the World Before Time, and a great shadow again appeared. Then there was a brief flash of fire, and the three friends saw only a cold, pale light, frozen as if in some great sheet of ice. This last vision awakened a terror in them, so cold and cruel was the sight, and the sun glimmered faint and far away, and their bones turned to hardened stone, the breath left them, their eyes filled with the stillness that is death, and all thought left their numbed minds except the cold, piercing them like shafts of icy steel and holding them forever in its grim, terrible hand. Greyfax moved his eyes, and the fire billowed and raged, shot up great sparks, whir ling and spewing, and a cyclone of sun and stars whirled mightily all about them, grim white flames rode down the wind, and a towering fall of sparkling geysers erupted into bursts of gold and crimson stair ways, at the top of which stood forth a light, so terrible and white it threatened to release than from all form and substance and draw them into its brilliance forever. With another flash and roar, all was gone, and there sat Greyfax before them once more, small and drawn, smiling slightly, as an old man by a fire might smile after retelling an old but particularly good story.

Froghorn sighed and touched Greyfax lightly on the shoulder. “I guess that saves us a lot of useless words when there is no time.”

Greyfax smiled up at his friend. “No words are useless, Fairingay, except those spent in praise of foolishness.” He then turned to Dwarf. “Heed my counsel, old friend, and take up roof where you may here, but let none know of your coming, and conceal yourself well until I return.”

“When will that be, sir?” asked Otter, shaking his head and trying to get rid of the bright tower of light that still lingered in his eyes, making the sun light seem dull.

“Not long, by my reckoning. By yours, maybe something longer. My absence, unless something unforeseen occurs, shall be counted in days, I think.”