The Forge in the Forest (40 page)

The shadows shivered suddenly; the torches were smoking, dying in Kermorvan's hand, yet he paid them no heed. A deep awe had settled upon them all as he spoke, upon Roc, upon Elof and even upon Ils to whom the realms of men were slight and transient; and that same sense of presence which had troubled Elof in the outside blackness now returned. He looked from bier to bier, at the shapes that lay beneath dulled armor and the ragged remains of rich robes, mere webs now held together only by dust and the rich metal threads of their ornament; fit warning indeed for any aspiring prince, but a source of deep pride also. Elof thought he might find it in himself to envy such a lineage, yet in truth he did not; he cared little for his ancestry, there being so many other things he yearned to know. He could guess, though, what they must mean to Kermorvan, these rows of shapes stretching out into the shadowy depths of the tomb, and to Roc also. Their silent majesty told strongly upon Elof, and all that they stood for; the weight of years, the building of a mighty realm of men, the long sustaining and last defense of it against the relentless, ageless enemy, and within all those the high events, war and peace, battle and building, the myriad lives of men they had once both ruled and served. And they served them yet, bearing mute witness to the life of their kingdom when all other traces had been erased. Then the torches guttered again, and the thrall was broken; Ils snorted impatiently, plucked the linklights from Kermorvan's fingers and waved them about to rekindle them.

"Aren't all here, are they?" she demanded. "Didn't some die away from home, or at sea?"

"Few," answered Kermorvan, rising stiffly, "and we always strove to bring their bodies back. Those few are here in effigy, with arms or armor that were theirs. You see those arches, spanning the vault? They were once its rear walls, and mark the many times Dorghael Arhlannen was extended. At the last the number of biers was increased to two hundred, and one hundred and sixty-four kings lie here in state."

Ils chuckled sardonically. "A grave matter as you might say, then, that with all the spare accommodation some should lie on the cold floor!"

"What?" cried Kermorvan, seizing back a torch. "If some enemy has defiled this place…"

As he sprang forward Elof saw what Ils' sight had picked out of the shadows. Far down the tomb, to either side of (he last arch, two shapes lay like a child's stick drawing marked in the dust of the floor. But the lines stood proud of it, and most so at the heads, for they were skulls. It was by the bones of two men that Kermorvan knelt. "These were not thrown down!" he murmured. "Surely they lie as they died, helms on their heads, harness about them…" Gently he lifted the remains of a mailshirt,

and a long halberd, still intact. "By the look of it, harness of the old Royal Guard…" Then he gasped, and stood up suddenly. "The two guardsmen! Korentyn said it! He took with him only two old men of his guard!" Slowly, almost unwillingly, he stepped through the last arch, and stopped there. The others crowded behind him, and saw as he did.

The long rows of biers here were empty, save for a few near the arch. The dark shapes upon them were covered, as all the rest had been, by robe and mail and helm, all save the last. Like the guardsmen, he lay uncovered, save by a great black shield, a sunken shape within his mail. But above it was no common helm, for even through the layers of dust the torchlight drew an answer from it, a glancing sparkle of brighter fires, glittering there in many colors about the head of death.

"So this is where he came." Kermorvan's voice was somber, deepened by sorrow, and yet within it the triumphant ring still sounded. "He and his comrades, to the heart of the city they would not surrender. Here they stood, as the Ice ground and thundered overhead and laid Waste all that they had known and loved, all that those around them here had built up. This place at least they could die defending. And when the ruin was complete, and this vault still stood, they chose to perish here, of thirst or hunger or by their own hands, rather than risk opening that door to despoilment and desecration. And they are proven right!" He darted forward suddenly, and knelt by the side of that last bier a moment, while the others watched in silence. Then, slowly, he rose, and reached out with hands that shook to the figure that lay before him. Gently, reverently, he detached the helm, and set it down on the bier's end. Then from his own pack he drew the helm he had carried through so many adventures, and, lifting from it its linings of soft leather, he set it upon the fleshless head. Only then did he lift the other from the bier, and drew his long cloak across it in a flourish. Dust flew from it like banished time, and in the torchlight it flared and dazzled as he raised it high. In fashion it was like his own, or the other that Elof had crafted, jet black, high-crowned, with a facemask whose aspect was all hawkish ferocity and dire rage. But the slanted eyes of that mask were picked out in bright gems, the sculpted brows were shapes of silver and gold, and above them rode a circlet of gold in which a great white stone blazed among a setting of green gems, white as clear water, green as spring grasslands, golden as the kindly sun.

"Behold the Great Crown of Morvan!" said Kermorvan softly. His gray eyes shone with the light of the sun over the infinite oceans. "Against all chance I have spoken with my kin, the last alive who walked here. Here I have come to what remains, to Kermorvan itself, Morvan the City, to him who sleeps here, its last king. From him I receive what was to him entrusted, and that he faithfully preserved to the end. And that trust I take upon myself! The chain that was sundered is made whole, the line that was severed is restored in me. No longer is he the last King of Morvan! For another shall follow him." And he raised the helm above his head.

Then, to the surprise of his friends, he lowered it, and cradled it in his arm, and smiled. "But not yet. I must give meaning to that name, before I claim it." And he picked up the linings, and began to fasten them within it. "Strange, are they not, the workings of destiny? And foolish our wish to guide them. For Keryn my ancestor sent the Great Scepter of Morvan westward, that his son might have regalia of royalty in his new kingdom, but kept the crown for himself, that it might remain in Morvan as a symbol, I guess, of continuing resistance to the Ice. Yet in the chances of time it was the scepter that was lost, and it is the crown that now passes into the hands of his kin."

Then a great lightness came within Elof's heart, warm as a wind from the living south. And beyond all doubt, all danger, his laughter rang in that solemn place like the laughter of the Powers in the morning of the world. "Strange are those ways indeed, lord! Stranger even than you can imagine! Yet do not call them chance! For is it chance that you met and befriended a boy from Asenby, and helped him, among many greater causes and concerns, to recover a thing that had been his to use since childhood, in a humble labor? A thing so worn, so aged that even you could not guess what it was. That I could not, till Korentyn himself gave me the key!" And he drew from his pack the rod that had been a cattle goad, and held it out before Kermorvan's astonished eyes. "By the craft within me, which brooks no gainsaying, I tell you now that this is the scepter of Morvan. From Asenby it came, the home that Ase who took the scepter made for herself; it bears that pattern which only the scepter ever bore, and within it are set craft and virtues which even I cannot yet fathom. Receive it now, and read it as I do—a sign. For chance it cannot be."

Kermorvan looked at the rod, but made no move to take it; instead he looked, more keenly yet, at Elof. "Who are you?" he murmured. "Korentyn knew you, Morhuen knew you… If Asenby was indeed Ase's home, then you may be a descendant of someone from that time, and bear their face, as do I of my ancestors."

Elof shrugged. "I was not born in Asenby. As to who I am, you have named me yourself, and I have told you what little else I know."

Kermorvan inclined his head, sternly. "Well then! Whoever you may be, the scepter was given into your hands, and has been well guarded there. Do you hold it for me still! And if ever I come to any kingdom, you shall receive it from me again, as counselor and prince, next after me in all my realm."

"Well spoken!" said Roc quietly, and Ils nodded. But Elof dropped to one knee.

"My lord, I am not worthy of…"

"Will you question the judgment of a king?" demanded Kermorvan, in tones that smoldered.

Elof raised his head defiantly. "Aye! Or what use else is a counselor?" Then he noticed the faint twitch at the corner of Kermorvan's thin mouth, and they all grinned.

"Mind you," chuckled Kermorvan, "I could as easily name you ruler of the stars, for I own them as much or as little as any other realm! And I will hardly better my estate by lingering here!" He gazed once more at the blazing crown, shook his head in amazement and wrapped it lovingly in the oiled cloth that protected his own mail. "Come, friends! I have paid my respects to what has gone by; now let us look to the times to come." He hesitated. "We could rest here, if you wish; those who already slumber here would take no exception, I am sure…"

"No thanks!" said Roc hastily. "I've learned some lore of the past also, and one or two of these noble gentlemen weren't quite as accommodating as you!"

"And the air is too dusty," added Ils, "with this reek of embalming. I would not sleep here."

"Nor I," muttered Elof. "I might see that face again."

"Well then, let us seek somewhere else," sighed Kermorvan, sliding the bundle of mail back into his pack. "Come!" But as they stepped back through the arch, he hesitated, looking to either side. Then he stooped, and began to gather up the bones that lay there. It was the same humane instinct in him that had served them so well in their first encounter with Tapiau's Children, that balanced the fearsome manslayer he could become. With the others helping him, he bore them back beneath the arch, and with swift care arranged them on two empty slabs. And he spoke to them, saying, "On the biers there lie by your lord! Living, you did not presume to, but his heir awards you that, the only honor he can. You shall be the last to lie in Dorghael Arhlannen, and in no less worth than all the rest. Guard it well, until the changing of the world!" Then he bowed to them, to the rest of the darksome hall, and last of all to the silent shape that bore his helm. And Elof and the others bowed also, ere they turned their faces to the distant door.

But as they moved out beyond the arch, Ils sniffed suddenly. "That rankness again… and stronger than the dust…"

"I smell it also!" said Kermorvan. "Too strong for bats…" Then
suddenly Roc, who was leading
them, cursed and swung his torch high, and they stopped dead,

stood for two heartbeats unmoving, the very breath stilled in their throats. In the darkness ahead of them, on a level with Kermorvan's head, two points of red fire shone with liquid brightness. They hung there an instant, glittering like the jewels on the helm, and Elof felt a sudden flood of the same cold terror he had felt at the tombs' opening, for he knew that they were eyes. But they were too wide apart to be human eyes, and below them he made out a glint of white, glimpsed jaws, long and narrow, floating in the dark as if disembodied, yellowed fangs linked by streaks of saliva. Then the same coughing growl they had heard before filled the vault, and a waft of breath, hot and foul.

So much Elof saw in that unmoving moment; then he felt a sharper wind whistle by, like the sweep of a sword-cut. But
it
was no sword; Kermorvan had flicked down his linklight so fast it flung out the ball of blazing pitch, as from a catapult. Straight at those ghastly jaws it sped like a starstone, and the thing reared up in a wall of whiteness with a shrieking yell that seemed to split their ears. Elof grabbed for his sword, but Kermorvan had been faster yet, stooping as he threw to snatch up the ancient halberd from the floor. He sprang forward and struck; the old blade bounced and skipped across the tangled whiteness, but scarlet sprang up in its path. Again the shriek, and the beast tumbled back between the rows of biers. Kermorvan sidled forward, slashing, thrusting, leaping, harrying
it;
a huge foreleg lashed at him with a paw the size of his body, but Gorthawer was in Elof's hand, the black claws met a blacker and flinched at its bite. Ils bounded up, her axe hacked at the limb with severing force but passed only through the billowing fur; she slipped and fell, her torch rolled aside, the paw descended, and then Kermorvan had flung himself across her and the blow fell upon the upraised halberd. The white muzzle snapped forward, Roc's mace struck and bounced, and a yellowed fang cracked in bloody ruin. The beast reeled and fell on its sloping back,
howling and clawing at its jaw with its long forelegs, its
shorter hindlegs beating at the air.

Kermorvan scrambled up, helping Ils, while Roc caught up the torch and ducked back. "Light another!" yelled Elof. "We dare not be left in the dark now!" Then the thing made another blundering rush, and he thrust Gor-thawer to meet it. But the halberd hewed out in front, slashed a bloody streak below the eyes, and the beast jerked away, snarling, its claws scrabbling and clicking on the stone. Ils stumbled to join them, and together they advanced on it, weapons swinging, forcing it back till its haunches met the door. It reared up as if to spring, but new light flared in the tomb; Roc leaped forward with the fresh torch blazing and thrust it straight at the bloody muzzle. The creature, caught off balance, tumbled back in a scrabbling mass and fell out through the narrow opening into the corridor beyond. After it leaped Kermorvan, blade poised, and the others behind him. The halberd arced upward, flung like a spear, but the beast sprang while the haft was still in Kermorvan's hand, and in the air they met. Right in the angle of its massive neck the point took it, and deep into the fur it sank with all Kermorvan's strength and the beast's own weight to drive it. Down on the stones crashed the creature, snapping and shrieking at the tormenting shaft.