The Eye of the Hunter (58 page)

* * *

They roused the camp and weapons in hand began the search, moving softly through the night, for who knew what foe might have taken her? And when came the dawn, they had not yet found her, even though at last they had begun calling out her name, their voices echoing from the canyon walls. Finally Urus said, “I will find her.” The Baeran turned to Halíd. “Halíd, fear not that which you are to see.”

A darkness gathered about Urus, enveloping him, his shape changing, growing huge, brown, with long black claws and ivory fangs, dropping to all fours, and where Urus had been now growled a huge Bear.

“Waugh!”
cried Halíd, backing away, scribing a warding sign in the air.
“Afrit!”

“Steady,” hissed Aravan, placing his hand on Halíd’s, stopping the Gjeenian from drawing his knife. “There’s nought to fear.”

His eyes wide, Halíd glanced at the Elf, then back at
the Bear. “Reigo would have laughed,” he murmured, then nodded to Aravan. “I am all right now.”

The Bear snuffled at Faeril’s blankets, then cast about,
whuffing
, nose to the ground. Into the woods he went, away from the stream, ambling in the general direction of the waterfall, rambling back and forth across a track that only he could follow, the others coming after. Yet the farther he went, the more reluctant he became, nearly turning aside several times, as if something was resisting him, bidding him to turn away. The two-legs trailing him also seemed disinclined to go farther. But one—the small two-legs that had ridden him when there was snow—
that
two-legs seemed more determined, and though the wee two-legs nearly stopped several times, on each occasion he shook his head as if dispelling sleep and urged the Bear onward. And together, Bear and wee two-legs, the rest following, they at last came to a glade and stepped within…and suddenly the resistance vanished.

A peaceful quietness lay upon the dell, leaves rustling softly overhead—though strangely, the sound of the waterfall could
not
be heard even though it was but mere yards away.

Lying in the glade center was another two-legs, another wee one. The Bear ambled to her side and snuffled—this was the one he had been seeking. The Bear nosed her, nudging her, but she did not move for she was deeply asleep, a winter sleep, or so it seemed to the Bear.

The others had gathered about, some kneeling. The Bear backed away and sat down…and thought of Urus. And a dark shimmering came upon the beast, and again Halíd stepped back, awe in his eyes. Swiftly the shape before the Gjeenian
changed
, altering, losing bulk, gaining form, and, suddenly there on the ground sat Urus.

In glade center. Gwylly and Aravan and Riatha knelt beside Faeril. The damman lay on her back, her eyes closed, seemingly asleep. In her left hand resting ’cross her stomach she held her clear crystal; in her right hand at her neck she clutched Aravan’s amulet on its thong.

Aravan reached out his hand and touched the blue stone, and his eyes flew wide with surprise. “Wait!” he called.

Riatha looked up and ’round, her silver eyes filling with
wonder. They were in the very center of a perfect circle of evenly spaced
kandra
trees. At last they had found the Ring of Dodona…

…but at what cost?

Autumn, 5E989
[The Present]

H
er eyes tightly shut, crystal clasped in her left hand, the blue stone in her right, mentally chanting
Dodona…Dodona
…Faeril stepped cautiously forward, following the gentle bidding. Whence it came, she knew not, only that it did.

Faeril was reluctant to leave the campsite, and nearly did not, but
something
or
someone
seemed to assure her that her companions would be safe, that the entire gorge was warded, protected. Too, she did not wish to lose her
link
with the
presence
.

And so, eyes closed, crystal in her left hand, amulet in her right, she followed the vague nudgings, nudgings more sensed than felt.

That she walked in the Kandrawood she did not doubt, for leaves rustled overhead. That she neared the falling water, this she also did not doubt, the
shssh
of the cascade growing louder. That she did not stumble or collide with a tree never entered her mind, for she
knew
that she was guided in safety.

…Dodona…

Stepping on the soft grass, among the trees she wandered, following…following. At last she came to a place where, except for the rustle of leaves, all sound ceased, the
shssh
of the falls suddenly stilled. She nearly opened her eyes but did not, and instead paced forward, then stopped…and sat.

A voice came softly. “Open your eyes, child.”

* * *

Faeril saw before her an eld Man, or so he seemed, long white hair and a flowing white beard and dressed in white robes. His face was crinkled with age lines, and pale blue eyes looked out at her from beneath shaggy white brows.

“Are you Dodona?” asked the damman.

The Man smiled gently. “I am known by many names, Dodona among them.”

“What are you?”

The Man smiled. “Ever direct. Ever in a hurry. Mortals.

“I am the warder, the guardian, the keeper, the speaker. Some would call me a Hidden One, though there are many of many kinds by that name.”

Faeril now smiled. “You are indeed a Hidden One, for we could not find you.”

“I was always here to be found.”

“But it was difficult, Dodona.”

“Not all who seek, find. This ring”—he gestured about, and Faeril saw that she was seated in the center of a ring of
kandra
trees—“this ring is warded from discovery by a simple charm, and only those of sufficient need or wit can find it.”

“We have a need, I and my companions.”

“I know, child. You seek a death. I do not willingly aid those who seek the death of another.”

Faeril nodded. “Your reluctance I can understand, Dodona, but this Man is a monster. And I travel with honorable companions.”

The eld Man seemed to look elsewhere, as if seeing something beyond the circle of trees. “Yes, child, your comrades are most worthy. You travel with a Friend; this I know, for that stone at your neck is his and not yours. Too, you travel with a BearLord, and I know whence he came. You travel with one who is to bear the hope of the world, and she is worthy. You travel with one who will aid in ridding the world of a foulness, though not the one you seek. And you travel with one who loves you, one whom you love in return. All of these companions are indeed honorable.”

“And the one we seek? What of his honor?”

Again the eld Man gazed elsewhere. “The one you seek has no honor, and truly is a monster upon the world. Even so, I am reluctant to aid in the death of
any
.”

“But I found you, Dodona. Does that not say I have sufficient need?”

“Or that you have sufficient wit.”

Faeril looked at the Man. “In either case, I seek knowledge.”

The Man’s blue eyes gazed into hers. “And I am bound to answer, though you may not understand my reply.”

“Well and good, Dodona, well and good, for I have many things to ask you: where we can find Baron Stoke; the whereabouts of the Dawn Sword; where Aravan can locate his yellow-eyed Man; the secret of Urus’s identity, of his abandonment, and of the identity of his parents; the meaning of Rael’s prophecy concerning silverlarks and Silver Sword; the meaning of my own prophecy concerning the Rider of the Planes; what you meant about Riatha and the hope of the world; what happened to the expedition of Prince Juad when he came to find you; and—”

Faeril’s words skidded to a halt as the eld Man, smiling and shaking his head, held up a hand, palm outward. “You may ask, but I will answer only one question of import and it must be one you choose.”

Now Faeril was nonplussed. “Only one?”

“Only one.”

Her chin in her hand, long did the damman think, trying to decide. Yet at last she looked at the eld Man and said, “We came seeking the whereabouts of Baron Stoke, and though there may be more important issues that I could address, still, my companions and I are sworn to run him to earth. I suppose that I could be clever and ask where we will slay Stoke, thus gaining foreknowledge not only of his location but also foresight as to the success of our mission…but I will not. Instead, Dodona, I will merely ask where will we find Baron Stoke.”

The Man smiled. “It is good that you did not try to be overly cunning, child, for the answers I give are uncertain at best, and the simpler the query, the more reliable the answer.

“Yet heed, it has been long since one such as you has come, one with an innocent heart, and in giving my answer to your question, I would also reward you with knowledge you seek but did not ask for.

“You hold in your left a clear crystal, and I know that
you would learn about such. I will show you much concerning that talisman, but not all.

“Gaze into its depths, child, for I would take you on a journey.”

Faeril held the crystal up before her amber eyes and looked deep within. And suddenly, down she tumbled, falling among glittering mirrors and glistening panes and the tinging sound of wind chimes…

…to land…

…in Caer Pendwyr.

Dodona stood at hand.

Courtiers strolled. Pages rushed thither and yon. People sat on benches, waiting for an audience with the High King.

The eld Man bent over and said to her, “They cannot see us.”

Faeril looked at the Man. “Wha— Is this real?” She could yet hear the
tink
and
ching
of crystalline chimes.

Dodona laughed. “Perhaps, child. Perhaps not.”

Suddenly they were in an empty chamber of the castle.

“I brought you here to show you something. Gaze out this window. What do you see?”

Faeril looked out the window. The cerulean waters of the Avagon Sea rolled below, white caps rushing inward to crash against the base of the sheer stone cliffs. “I see the sea.”

“Is that all?”

Gulls wheeled on the wind, and distant clouds drifted on the horizon above cobalt water afar. A sailing ship clove the waves. “Birds. Clouds. A ship.”

“Is that all? Look more closely.”

“What do you mean, Dodona?”

“Look at the glass.”

“Oh.” Faeril looked at the glass itself. “I see bubbles in the glass, its greenish-blue tinge, dirt on the pane.”

“Is that all?”

Reflected on the glass was a vision of the chamber behind. “I see the room mirrored.”

“Is that all?”

Now Faeril looked and saw her own reflected image, a golden flame, and at her side was a free-standing flame of silver. “I see you, Dodona, and I see me.”

“Exactly! One window: four views. Beyond. At Hand. Behind. Self.

“We can shift to a different window”—of a sudden they were at a tower window looking over the city—“and what we see is different, the views Beyond, At Hand, and Behind. Self stays essentially the same, unless we somehow have changed.

“But most important, though Self stays the same, note that all is seen through the reflection of Self. The Vision Beyond is seen through Self. The Reflection Behind is seen through Self. Even the View At Hand is seen through Self.”

Suddenly Dodona looked upward. “Wait!” he shouted. “It is too dangerous. Move her not!”

* * *

Aravan looked at the others, surprise in his eyes. “We must not move Faeril.”

Gwylly looked at the Elf. “But, Aravan, she’s gone into a coma again. Last time, she was unconscious for three days.”

Aravan shook his head. “I know, Gwylly, yet we
must
wait. All we can do is nourish her, give her small sips of water, care for her needs. We must not take her from this glen. Else she will be in jeopardy.”

Riatha glanced at Aravan. “How know thee this?”

“I touched the stone.”

* * *

Faeril was startled. “Wait for what?”

“Oh, child, I was not speaking to you. It was to one of your companions: the Friend.”

“Aravan?”

The eld Man nodded. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, views—”

They fell among the crystal panes, mirroring, reflecting, views Beyond and Behind, wind chimes sounding in the swirling aethyr.

“Tell me what you see.”

“I see crystal panes, Dodona.”

“No, child. Look in large. See the overall. What is the pattern?”

Faeril tried to take in the broad view. At first, all was a glittering confusion. But then—“Why, it is something like a honeycomb, Dodona. A six-sided pattern running throughout.”

“Good, child. You have seen…but not all. Look again at the pattern.”

Now that she knew what to look for, Faeril peered about as she and Dodona tumbled downward. “There seems to be three honeycombs, staggered, interlaced.”

The eld Man clapped his hands. “Exactly, three patterns interlocked. Yet that is not all. Take my hand, I will be your guide.”

As they flew downward, Dodona again called, “Wait!”

* * *

Aravan looked up at the others and shook his head. “Not yet.”

Gwylly wrung his hands. “But, Aravan, it’s been a whole day.”

“Nevertheless, Gwylly, we must not move her.”

Urus stepped from the camp and into the ring, for they had relocated next to the circle of trees. “Is there aught else we can do?”

Bleakly, Gwylly looked up and shook his head.

Aravan spoke. “All we can do is watch over her, tend to her, and care.”

* * *

Dodona flew down to a corner of one of the hexagonal surfaces, the damman holding on. The plane seemed to grow as they approached it.

“Why, this is not a corner at all,” exclaimed Faeril. “Instead it’s a…a pyramid. A three-sided pyramid.”

“Four sides if you count the bottom. Look up. Look down.”

Affixed to one another at their points, tetrahedrons twisted upward beyond seeing, spiralling downward as well, each face a plane, a window, a mirror.

The crystal surfaces of tetrahedrons reflected their images as they flew onward, now for a point of a pyramid where something tiny glowed, pulsating; and in the pyramid’s center was suspended another glowing mote, this one…different. At the point they found a shimmering sphere, a glittering sphere, spheres within spheres.