Knight's Dawn (25 page)

matter what time of the day or night, there was always someone practising in the music chamber. The dwarfs themselves were very rustic looking creatures. Both males and females had roughly-cropped, coarse, short hair which stuck up at all angles from their heads. They all appeared to go prematurely grey, but there were no bald dwarfs anywhere. Their ears were larger than a humans, probably because they relied on their hearing more than any other sense. Muscled, thick arms and legs on a sturdy torso told Soldier that these beings had not always relied on poaching to feed themselves. He asked Xnople, the elderly dwarf, about this. Xnople scratched his skull and replied, We werent always reduced to poaching. Once upon a time we were miners. We owned some diamond mines on the other side of the hill. But Gaezor forced us away from our rightful heritage. He seized the mines himself, and gave the mining rights to boggarts when we refused to sell our diamonds to him at a cheap rate. Boggarts? Faery folk who normally do the mundane trades like black-smithing and leatherworking. Boggarts, though used to hard work, are not natural miners. They didnt know a lot about the work. They took unshielded candles down the mines instead of safety lamps, and there was a gas explosion. They had an accident? They were buried alive. Every last one of them. And all because the greedy Caezor wanted his diamonds cheaper. Now he gets none at all. And he blames us for this. He says if we had agreed to sell him the gems at a cheap rate in the first place, none of this would have happened. He is not a good man, said Soldier. If he had not a wife and I had not wronged him, I would challenge him to single combat. He sighed. But I was a guest in his house and the laws of chivalry do not permit guests to challenge their hosts. He hunted you! True, but before that he gave me meat when I was starving and a bed when I needed shelter. Men like Caezor always come to a bad end at some time. If not me, then someone else will ride by one day and think it wise to cut off his head. Now, will you help me get Spagg out of his house alive? Is it possible? You mean the man Caezor pinned to an iron gibbet this morning, and hung on his gates? Soldier let out a cry. He has killed Spagg? No, but the man is dying slowly. Then I must rescue him, cried Soldier. This man, Spagg, said Xnople. He has spikes through his hands and feet and is set upon the iron gibbet like an X. Caezor spreads bird feed on him, and the starlings with their sharp, stabbing beaks cluster upon his chin and peck the seed from his mouth. I believe he is a snare set for you. Caezor wishes you to come and rescue your man-servant. It is a trap baited with man. Poor Spagg, mused Soldier, little did the hand-seller know what this trip had in store for him. Hand-seller? queried Xnople. Soldier explained, Spagg has a market stall. In better times he sells the hands of hanged men to use as hands-of-glory. A macabre and morbid trade. A lucrative one, Spagg would say. Soldier knew he would have to rescue Spagg. He sighed, troubled in his heart. Not for the first time Soldier wondered who he was and what he was doing in this unfamiliar world. Even now, as he looked at the ceiling of the cavern, the roots seemed to spell a name which might be his, except that it was not quite there, not quite comprehensible. The same thing happened with the branches of winter trees, whenever he went into the forest. The tangle of limbs shaped a name, which was changed by the wind rustling the boughs just as he looked up and almost saw it. The wolves know who I am, he moaned. Yet I remain ignorant of myself. Whats that?asked the white-bearded Xnople. What did you say? Soldier sighed again. Nothing. You want to know something, dont you? Yes, but no one seems to know the answer. Xnople said, Possibly because you havent asked the right questions yet. Ask me. I have certain intuitive powers. Perhaps some images will come into my head? What is it you wish to discover, friend? I was just wishing I knew who I was and what I was here for. No one can tell you who you are. Only you know the answer to that question. But as to your reason for being here? Why, that might be uncovered, if we look at it closely enough. Soldier looked up abruptly into the gnarled features of the old dwarf, whose countenance itself resembled a tree root. You think? Xnople nodded. I find that people go to a strange place for two main reasons: to seek someone they wish to find -or to lose themselves. Im sure I dont want to get lost, but then who is it that I wish to find? cried Soldier. A loved one, or a hated one? How will I ever know? Xnople closed his eyes for a few minutes, then spoke again, I see a woman not of this world, a bride, in a white dress stained with red. I see a man also not of this world, with swotd in hand, the blade running with a virgins blood. These two are all I have. They are yours. Xnople opened his eyes. Has that been of any help? Soldier cried in anguish, What does it mean? I would say you are either here to seek a runaway bride, or to find her murderer. Soldier felt the stone in his heart. It must be to seek the murderer, then, for if she was slain . . . I did not say she was dead, only that blood stained her wedding gown. Perhaps it was not her blood? Perhaps she was not mortally wounded, and she escaped into this world before the fatal blow could be struck? You must not assume too much. Then again, you might have come upon the scene of a murder and the perpetrator escaped your wrath by slipping into this world from your own. You followed. In crossing over, your memories of your own world could have been lost. Neither of you will know who you are, why you are here, and who it is that you fear. Yes, yes, I feel you are right, Soldier croaked, grasping this explanation. I do feel it, deep within me. This would account for all the hate, the fury, that seethes deep within my soul. I am here to hunt a murderer, who does not know who he is or why he is here. Or a frightened bride. No, no. Why would I have fallen in love with the Princess Layana, if I were already in love? Xnople shook his head in wonder. My poor fool. Can you not be in love with two women at the same time? Not I, cried Soldier, thinking of Layana. I could not, in all honour, be so faithless. The elderly dwarf pursed his lips. You must know yourself. Soldier said, Why hasnt anyone told me these things before now? As I have said, perhaps you have not asked the right questions of the right people? Soldier nodded, accepting this explanation. He considered the situation very carefully, and decided that it must be that he was hunting the murderer of a bride. Perhaps she, this lady in the blooded gown, had not been his bride? Could it be that the maid in the wedding dress was his sister, or the bride of his best friend? This was less likely, considering the hate he harboured in his soul. Yes, her murderer, it must be. Someone here, in this world, who did not know he was the killer of a young maid Soldier had once loved. Someone who did not know he was being hunted by an avenger from the old world. Suddenly, Soldier felt the blood drain from his face as yet a third possibility made itself known to him, brought on by a remembrance that there was another emotion seething below the surface of his soul. Guilt. A terrible guilt. What is it? asked Xnople, seeing the abrupt change of Soldiers expression. Tell me. Something has just occurred to me. Something you did not mention yourself. I could be chasing a murderer . . . Yes, encouraged the dwarf. Go on. Then again, Soldier said, his voice wavering, I could be the murderer.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In the short time that he remained with the dwarfs, Soldier learned of the presence of an Old Man in the forest. Xnople informed him that the Old Man was wise in the ways of wizards, though not one himself. Though powerful in his own right, the Old Man is a person of peace. He spends his time turning metal weapons into ploughshares and wooden weapons into ships masts. There are a young boy and a woman who assist him. It is the boy who goes out and gathers the swords, where he may find them. The child creeps into the encampments of warriors at night and steals their weapons. The woman works the furnace for the Old Man, keeping it hot enough to melt down the tools of destruction and death which he finds so odious, so repugnant, as any man of peace would. You think the Old Man might help me with locating the wizard to cure my wife of her madness? Its possible. While in the underground world of the dwarfs Soldier was sewn a new set of clothes. They were not of the best material, of course, for the fabric which the dwarfs were able to trade for was of the cheapest kind. It was the males who sewed and the females who inspected the stitches. Once the garments were completed a set of jerkin and hose in the style that the dwarfs themselves favoured, this being the only type of raiment they knew how to fashion - Soldier found them to be loose and coarse. They rubbed his skin raw, they itched, but they kept out the cold and would probably last a lifetime, He hoped they wouldnt, but his fears were probably correct. Thus attired he asked Xnople how he should set Spagg free. Well do that. We can take him down tonight. Theres no moon, certainly not a hunters one. You must go and see the Old Man of the forest. Tell him we sent you. What about my things? I left everything behind at Caezors mansion. Theres an enchanted brigandine for a start. And a magic scabbard. Also my sword and warhammer. How will I fight without them? You must learn, or get yourself some new weapons, for youll not see your sword or any of your possessions again. Soldier was extremely troubled to hear this, but he felt he could not waste time arguing with Xnople. If you think you can free Spagg tonight, then I am most grateful to you. Please tell me where I can find the Old Man. I think I should speak with him now. Soldier was given instructions on the path through the forest. He crawled out through one of the tunnels which opened like a badgers hole from under a set of oak roots. Once out in the winters chill, biting atmosphere, Soldier followed the signs he had been given. These were mostly trees with scarred trunks, or old rabbit burrows, things of that nature. One sign led to another and by this way Soldier was able to find his way to a mossy cave deep in the heart of the forest. The region he was now in was a place of even more mysterious forces and spirits. Every so often he stopped to look fearfully over his shoulder, convinced he was being followed. He was, but only by a manifestation of his own inner self. In this place of magic a part of his own spirit freed itself and took on the form of a crooked elf. This elf trod directly in Soldiers footprints, and was inclined to jump smartly behind him when he turned around, so Soldier never quite saw the creature full on. What he saw were darting shadows and almost-shapes. He knew of the elfs presence, but was not quick enough to confirm it. There was nothing Soldier could do about this situation but let it continue as it was, with the elf laughing at him in a low voice, just under the note of the wind, and he becoming more and more furious as he failed to catch the creature. However, at one point he really was being followed, and not by himself. KERROWWF cried a delighted dragon, as they came across each other in a clearing. KERROWW! Im not your mother, growled Soldier, as the scaly creature nuzzled his thigh with its large bony head. He kicked it on the rump. Go and find your real mother. KERROWW! shrieked the growing beast, more delighted than ever on being caressed by its parent. It followed Soldier through the forest, making crooning sounds. Go away! ordered the exasperated Soldier. Leave me alone. The dragon nuzzled him again, rubbing skin from Soldiers calf with its coarse brow and spiky ears. They went further, still with Soldier protesting, still with the dragon making mewling noises, until they were forced to part by the density of trees, through which the great beast could not venture without damaging its wings. It flew off, up into the sky, still shouting its affection for its human mother. Finally, where the forest trees grew thickest, Soldier came upon a land of humps and bumps great mossy mounds of rugged design where birds flew backwards and had the faces of men. He saw an owl with a mans visage, staring at him from the upper branches of a white tree. He was pursued by a tiny wren with the minute savage features of a disturbed child, its head turning this way and that as it looked over its shoulder to see where it was going in this topsy-turvy woodland world. Once, a nightjar screeched into his eyes, frightening the life out of him with its hideous human features set upon a body of feathers and claws. Here Soldier found a real boy, hurrying through the shadow-bars of the forest trees, carrying an armful of weapons. Guessing this was the boy who served the Old Man, Soldier spoke to him. Boy! he called. Im looking for your master. The child, wrapped up in tattered womens shawls bound tightly to his body with thongs, stopped at these words and stared in Soldiers direction. My masters home lies beyond the forest fence. Youd better follow where I tread, he shouted back, before hurrying on, or youll lose my trail. Soldier did indeed have trouble in keeping the padded boy in sight, as the latter skipped nimbly through the trunks which grew so close together. Soldier was thankful he had not eaten for a while or he would have been too fat to squeeze between them. They left the tree line and entered some sweeping downs upon which was unblemished snow. The landscape was formed of feminine curves and swellings, soft to the eye. Soldier would have gladly lain down in some hollow, albeit filled with snow, and fallen asleep forever. He was travel-weary and low of spirit, though he he instinctively felt his journeys end was not too far away. Finally the boy came upon a copse containing one of those ferny, mossy knolls, in which was set a dark cave. On top of this mound was a blackened chimney made of pale clay, through which smoke and black grit issued in puffs. The snow on top of the mound had melted, leaving a green island in an ocean of whiteness. The boy disappeared inside the cave entrance, from which hung long fangs of ice. Soldier followed at rapid pace, in case there were multiple tunnels within and he should lose the child at some fork. Finally, he came out in a forge where the heat was so intense as to drive the air from his lungs for a few seconds. In this place he found the other troglodytes, the Old Man and a woman, who regarded him with mild surprise. I found him, said the boy, dumping the weapons before the furnace with a clatter, out in the woods. He was coming from the direction where the dwarfs have their warren. He said he wants to speak to you, grandfather. All the three inhabitants of this hot mossy cave were dressed in shabby garments which hung from their bones like sackcloth from a scarecrow. They looked poor, wasted creatures, but Soldier was not surprised at their appearance, considering the sweltering conditions under which they worked. And they seemed busy people, never pausing, always melting, cutting, shaping, pouring, doing what must be done to turn swords to ploughshares and lances to ship masts. The walls of the cave were decorated with them, they hung from rafters set in the ceiling, they gathered in piles around the sides of the dwelling. What do you do with them? he asked. These tools and fittings you make. Why, we give them to the poor, said the woman. They use them to grow their harvest, to reap, to catch the bounty of the sea - and more important, poor people do not have the means to turn them back into weapons again. I think your plan is admirable, but a waste of time. Men will fight. Men will kill men. Its in their nature. The Old Man looked up. Then we must change their nature, forge it into a new shape. He dunked a red-hot, roughly-shaped tool into a trough of water, which then hissed and bubbled. Men are yet infants, to be turned into useful beings. I cannot remember much, if anything, about the world from which Ive come, but this world seems to spawn violence at every seam. The half of it seems dedicated to destroying the other half I have met with beings both strange and weird - creatures I never believed existed, and which probably did not in my old life all attacking each other, intent on killing and maiming. The old man halted his toil for a moment to stare into Soldiers eyes. Things may not be exactly as you perceive them. I cant see how they can be otherwise. Thats because you view them through eyes which were fashioned elsewhere. What is it you want of me? Did the dwarfs indeed send you? Soldier confirmed that he had come from the underground kingdom of the dwarfs, unless of course he had dreamt he was in a place peopled by small gnarled beings with knobbly noses, and explained that he sought a wizard who might cure his wife of her ailment. There is a path, said the Old Man, on the far side of a great lake. If you find it and follow it, there is no certainty what you will find at its end. It may be there will be one who can help you. But the path changes its destination, from day to day, hour by hour, minute by minute. It could be that you arrive at the wrong time and find the wrong sorcerer, or indeed, none at all. Perhaps you will nothing but a pile of frozen dead leaves, crackling with frost which tries to turn them to glass. Is that my only chance? Is that what Ive endured terrible dangers to find? Nothing is definite. You find only what you earn. Do you think you deserve certainty? Soldier shrugged, annoyed with himself as much as with the Old Man. I suppose not. I hope for it. Hope is as much as youll get, and more than any man of violence deserves. You think Im a man of violence? The Old Man continued with his work as he spoke. The woman fed the furnace with charcoal. The boy vanished out of the cave again, presumably to go out to steal more weapons. Have you had time to study this world yet, into which you say you have been unwillingly projected? It may look as if it is a world based on evil, with good struggling to gain a place in it. In fact it is neither based on evil, nor good, but on power. In a world ruled by evil you would not have survived more than a day or two. Soldier felt affronted. I came here powerless. The Old Man began hammering a piece of hot metal on a great anvil, sparks fountaining from beneath his hammer as a waterfall of light. No, you came to us with enough power to keep you alive, or it would not be so. There is a certain power in being an unknown quantity, obviously so with your blue eyes in a place where only brown-eyed beings dwelt. You did not know yourself, but then neither did others know you. You were allowed to live until they found out whether you were a threat to them, or useful in some way, or had some special secret which might empower them. There is no profit in destroying what might give one an edge over others. And in the beginning no one knew whether in destroying you they might be arousing the antagonism of some dark force which could, in turn, bring them down themselves. Also you had your soldiery to fall back on. You had this instinctive knowledge of warfare and you guessed you had been highly trained in slaughter. Not that I approve of this, of course, but it was yours to draw on, along with the bonus of a scabbard which had gathered magic on its journey between worlds. Gradually, using all these assets, you have gathered more power unto yourself. You seem destined to continue, unless something unforeseen cuts you down without a second thought for your usefulness. Soldier considered all this, and decided there was something in what the Old Man said. There was the queen, whose power was derived from her birthright. There was Humbold, whose power was gathered from that reflected from his queen. There was Kaff, who had the power of the military behind him. Some of these people had reached a point where they could not be removed from power. We are going through a bad time, continued the Old Man, what with the imminent death of the King Magus. Therell be a struggle after he goes. We must hope that Good wins that struggle, for, in a land where Evil rules unopposed, all power goes to one pair of hands. That pair of hands disseminates power as it sees fit: gives it out, takes it back, withholds it, removes it. We must hope we never see the day when such a creature rules the magic of the land. Soldier agreed and thanked the Old Man and the woman. They gave him, before he left, a tinder-box, without which he would have surely died in the coldness of the winter land. He left the cave. On his way out he stole one of the swords which lay in heaps about the entrance. Soldier did not feel guilty about this, since he reasoned they had been stolen from someone else in the first place, but as he made his way through the forest he began to feel a little uneasy. The Old Man had helped him, in more ways than one, and this was not the way to repay such assistance. Still, he reasoned further, what choice had he? There would be dangers ahead and he must be prepared for them. Already, the further westwards he went, the more oppressive became the presence of the gods. Monstrous creatures no living man had ever seen, they dwelt apart from each other in the high citadels of the craggy, misty heights. He felt them like a great weight pressing down from above. He sensed their disapproval of all things human. As Soldier was musing thus, shivering, feeling the cold through his thin garments as he tramped through the snow, a raven flew by him and settled on a bough. Soldier stopped. Is it you? The raven cocked its head and said nothing. No - why should it be. There are thousands of ravens in the world. I cant tell one from the other. You all look alike to me. He passed by the bird. Thats because you dont look hard enough, spoke the raven, with some asperity in his voice. We are all different you know, just as you lot are. Cant you see the sheen on my feathers is quite superior to that of most of my kind? What about this little greyish feather on my left wing? How about the width of my eyes, the length of my beak, the fact that I keep my claws honed sharper than most ravens? Soldier stopped again and grinned. So it is you? Im afraid Im not keen-sighted enough to notice those fine details. Huh! Anyway, Im not here to argue or exchange