Into the Dark Lands (15 page)

“Dannen.”

Erin took a deep breath and struggled to remain standing at proud attention. Dannen nodded at her as she walked past; they had drilled together for several years, and while Dannen was larger and stronger, Erin knew that in a short bout, she had the advantage.

Eight,
Erin thought to herself as she counted the assembly over and over.
Eight, and the
Grandfather
makes nine.

“The Lady said she would take ten.”

She forced herself not to speak, but it was very, very hard. She had to avoid looking at Belfas.

The choice of the tenth seemed to trouble the Lady as well, for no name came immediately from her. Instead she gazed outward, into the audience, and beyond. Her wide, green eyes seemed to see something that troubled her greatly, for they closed and she seemed to shrink inward momentarily. Then the Lady straightened out, light pulsing from her thin body as if it were a beacon. She was strong, she was powerful, she walked with
the power of God. Erin wondered then if the doubt she thought she had seen was merely a reflection of the way she herself felt.

“Erin.”

Erin froze for the second time in the evening.

This was what she had prayed for; this was what she had pleaded and argued for; this was what she had existed for all these many years. But now that it had come, she didn't quite know what to do.

Her wide gaze met the Lady's, and for a moment she stared into endless green light, mesmerized like a moth.

Again the Lady seemed to hesitate, and this time Erin thought she knew why. Fear of losing her one chance to prove herself moved her, where the Lady's choice had not. She walked over to stand in front of Telvar.

He looked down at her, tight-lipped and silent. Then he looked up beyond her head to meet the Lady's eyes.

“It is unusual, Telvar, but these are darker times. You yourself have said that Erin may soon be Carla's equal.”

He said nothing, but Erin knew what he was thinking: she was only a child; she did not belong on the field of battle yet. As the rest of the audience caught sight of her, a murmur rose at her back; they did not approve of the choice, for they knew she was no adult.

The Lady knew it as well.

“Telvar, in the days of Gallon Bright Sword, almost all were children. I would choose another, but most of yours are already fighting for their lives far from here.”

He looked down at Erin again, his dark eyes searching the green eyes that she turned, fearlessly, to meet his.

“Serdon?” he murmured quietly, never taking his eyes from hers.

“It is in the Lady's hands, Telvar,” the Grandfather replied.

The weaponsmaster put one hand on either of Erin's shoulders. “Well, Erin? Will you fight?”

He knew what she would say; child or no she was still one of the best of his students. But the radiant smile she gave him as she nodded still cut him deeply with its double edge; pride in and fear of her determination.

“
You're going where?” 
Katalaan was white as a sheet. Her
night robe was crumpled from sleep and drawn tightly around her wide girth. The shadows that followed her down the stairs flickered in lamplight.

“To Karana,” Erin said. Her sword was already at her waist. Gone now were green and brown; the baker's colors had been exchanged for the student browns that Telvar trained with. “I go with the Lady.”

Kat was confused, but all she could see was the sword that hung by Erin's side. Gone was the young lady who had left in such a nervous rush. In her place, this lean young fighter that the lines had trained stared back at her.

What had happened?

“What are you going to do?”

“Fight. Fight them.”

Katalaan shook her head. “Erin, you—you can't.”

Erin straightened herself out. “This is important, Kat. The nightwalkers are out there killing people like you and like me. I have a chance of stopping them. How can I stay?”

“Nightwalkers? Bright Heart's blood.” Katalaan sat down heavily on the steps, her white hand still clutching the banister. “Erin, only the Lady can stand against a walker.”

“The Sarillar is going, too. And we have the Gifting of God,” She picked up her pack and turned to the door. “I have to go—time is too important.”

“Erin?”

The young woman turned back.

“Is this so important to you?”

“Yes.” Her green eyes were preternaturally bright. In a lower
voice, she added, “They killed my mother.” She had never spoken of it before, but she owed Kat at least this much.

Katalaan bowed her head. “Come back to me, Erin. Don't be only a warrior.”

But Erin was already gone.

 

Belfas intercepted Erin on the way to the Great Hall. Apparently he had more faith in providence than she did, for he carried no pack, although he was properly armed. She stopped for a minute to inspect him and nodded.

“I'm glad,” he struggled to get out, as he followed her forced jog, “that you're coming with us.” He didn't really have the energy or opportunity to say it shyly.

“So am I,” Erin said, without looking back. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Erin!”

“Besides, we always said we'd go to war together. We were right.”

She didn't need to look back to know that his smile was the twin of hers.

 

They weren't the last to arrive at the Great Hall, although they weren't the first, either. The Lady, all willowy white light, stood silently apart from the rest of the gathering as they clustered beneath the southern arch. Carla, the Sarillar, the Grandfather, Telvar, and Kredan were speaking among themselves. Horses had already been saddled and looked as if they were only waiting for riders.

“Look at Telvar!” Erin whispered to Belfas.

“Where'd he get that armor?”

Erin turned to give Belfas the look he was most familiar with.

“What? What did I say?”

“It isn't the armor. Look at his face.”

“What about it? Looks like Telvar to me.”

“Belf.” Erin shook her head. “You're the memory-walker. You tell me the last time you saw him smile like that.”

“What, now?”

“Well, you're going to be called upon to use your talent sometime soon—otherwise you wouldn't be going.”

Belfas grimaced and closed his eyes. “I'm going to have to walk a lot for this.”

“Don't be so lazy.”

But Belfas couldn't hear her. He had already called upon the
strength of the line-power and let it swirl through his blood. The whole of his body was tingling with a faint, green light.

Human memory was not a linear thing, with one image following another in logical order. Rather, memories were interlinked, with one image as the key for any number of others in a loose, disorganized sequence. Belfas began to shuffle through his memories, searching for Telvar and comparing the images of years ago with the one of seconds past. Thus had Latham taught him.

At length he opened his eyes. “Never,” he admitted. “I've never seen him smile like that.”

Erin shook her head. “It's a good thing you can memory-walk, Belf, because you've no normal memory of your own.”

They turned back to look at Telvar. The smile was gone from his face, but Erin could see the differences that lingered in his familiar countenance. He looked lean, as always, but there was an aura of danger about him, an aura of the predator. She shivered as he showed a quick flash of teeth and let his fingers linger over his sword hilt. For the first time in her life, Erin realized that Telvar's bouts in the drill circle were in no way in earnest—not like this.

As if aware of their observance, Telvar looked up.

“Erin, Belfas.” He nodded, indicating that they should join the larger group. He watched them as they made their way across the courtyard. “Are you ready?”

Erin nodded as Telvar inspected her, his eyes taking in the fitted browns, the scabbard, and the back straps. He nodded in return and turned to Belfas. Only newly an adult, Belfas also wore his browns; no grays had yet been made for him, and no armor had been fitted.

Evanyiri, Dorse, Dannen, and Anders joined them soon, and the Grandfather gave the signal to mount.

“Lady?”

She shook her head. “I will walk; it will be easier to create a path for the horses.”

They began to move into the night. The Lady's light was dim in the darkness, but evident nonetheless. She walked swiftly before them from the Great Hall to the edge of Elliath.

As they made their way toward the Gifting of Lernan, Erin saw, for the first time, the power of the Lady at work. She had wondered, briefly, how the horses were to carry them the last three miles through dense forest to the well; she did not wonder further. The Lady stopped at the outskirts of her forest and
raised her arms, making a crossed circle in the air. A trail of light followed her hands, marking the pattern clearly into the eyes of those who watched. She spoke but few words, then brought her hands down. The light about her dimmed.

Very slowly, the trees began to move, sidling in a rustle of leaves as far back as they could.

Erin shook her head in disbelief, knowing it to be no dream.

“Come. It will last only long enough for our passage.”

The Sarillar, who was in the lead, spurred his horse forward, instructing the others to follow single file.

The forest swallowed them as they made their way toward the Gifting.

Only when they reached the sparkling water of the well did Erin breathe a sigh of relief. Green, pale light robbed the clearing of the shadows of nightfall.

“Dismount,” the Grandfather said, even as he left his horse. “Form the circle.”

Kredan, Dannen, Belfas, and Erin looked at him in some confusion.

“Do not worry.” The Lady's voice came to them alone. “Here we form the circle of initiates—and it is just that: a circle. Come, Erin. Take my hand.”

Erin did as the Lady ordered and, after a minute, felt Belfas take her other hand. One hand was warm, one almost icy.

“In time you would have been shown this, but you are all too newly adult, and there has been little need of it.”

Dannen and Kredan formed up on the other side of the Lady, until the group formed a circle facing inward. All eyes settled on the rippling surface of the living blood of God.

“Lernan, God.” The Lady spoke. “We ask for your aid in this darkness. Three of the Enemy walk abroad, and without your power we cannot hope to face them all.”

Once or twice before in her life, Erin had spoken to the waters of the well, but never with such an effect as this: the water bubbled upward, forming an irregular column. She felt the tension of Belfas's hand in hers as he took a step backward.

“Erin.”

Erin dragged her eyes away from the Gifting of God.

“As I have asked, so now must you, and all of this circle.”

“Lernan, God,” she whispered, in a voice so low she could feel it more than she could hear it. “The Servants of the Enemy are walking. Grant us the power to—to save those that we must protect.”

“Good, Erin.” The Lady's hand squeezed briefly and coolly into her granddaughter's. “Belfas.”

Belfas repeated the Lady's words perfectly, and then, in sequence, every member of the circle did.

“Now you may release hands,” the Lady instructed them quietly. “Now those of us with the experience to do so must draw upon the power of the blood of God.”

So saying, she pulled her own hand back. She drew out a small knife, one that glittered with the reflected light of the column. Without effort or pain, she slid the knife along her palm.

Only Erin was close enough to see that the color of the Lady's blood was not a mortal color. Before she could look more closely, the Lady lifted her palm and laid it gently against the living pillar. A flash of light struck the Lady, and she absorbed its brilliance, slowly drawing her hand away.

Erin began to pull her sword; it was the only edged knife that she had. She felt the warmth of the Lady's hand upon her own.

“Not you, child. You do not know the way of it, and I fear we have not the time to teach you. Untaught, you would draw more from the Hand of God than your mortal body could contain. You would be consumed by the living Light.”

Before Erin could think on it, the Lady also ordered Belfas, Kredan, Dannen, Dorse, and even Evanyiri away from the blood of God.

The Grandfather was the next to step forward. He, too, cut his palm to mingle his blood with God's. But he barely touched the light that grew in front of him. The Sarillar, Carla, Anders, and finally Telvar repeated this process.

The column of water lingered in the air another moment as if saying a muted farewell. The Lady bowed low to something that no other ears could hear, and the blood of God once again became a sprinkling well of water touched by light.

“When I give you my word, step forward quickly. I cannot hold this gate for long without losing the power we will require later.”

Gate?
Erin's brow creased, but she didn't ask.

The Lady lifted her arms in an arch that ended with the tips of her fingers. For the second time that evening she called upon her line-power, and white light—visible even to normal vision—flooded the clearing. Erin shaded her eyes and, squinting, caught a glimpse of the haloed statue the Lady made as she focused her magic outward.

Then the ground seemed to give way in the clearing, shifting rapidly between orvas flowers and cracked stone over dirt. A mist of beaded light took the air, surrounding them all in a halo of the Bright Heart's power. Erin held her breath, waiting shakily for the Lady's command. Only the very greatest of powers had the ability to affect the physical world so obviously.