The Silver Sun (2 page)

Alan shook his head. Like Hal, he was a homeless wanderer. It was odd that two such youthful outcasts should meet.

“Will you travel with me, then, when you are better?” Hal poked at the fire, and Alan could not see his lowered eyes. “My horse is as good as a man in many ways,” Hal added, “but rather quiet. Sometimes it is lonely...."

“Certainly I will travel with you,” replied Alan promptly. For Alan was brave, and inclined to deal generously with life. He saw a shy smile touch Hal's face, and then he went to sleep on his bed of moss without a doubt or a fear. He never afterward questioned his answer.

Alan felt much stronger when he awoke the next morning. He put on the patched tunic Hal gave him, and ate some leftover stew. He put a pinch on the ground, first, for the god.

Hal glanced at him curiously. “Whom do you serve, Alan?"

“No one!” Alan smiled sheepishly. “I am not bound by any god of grove or cave or temple. But a lifelong habit is hard to break.... My fathers worshiped the Star Son."

“Ah.” Hal's face was unreadable. “He is not too demanding, this Star Son?"

“Nay,” Alan answered grimly. “Not like the Sacred Son of the Easterners, who inflicts suffering worse than his own.” He spoke harshly, for he was remembering someone he had once known. He could not tell that, behind the cloudy sheen of his gray eyes, Hal remembered as well.

After breakfast they scrubbed the pot in the stream, then wandered through the forest glade. It was late spring; the trees were covered with bright leaf, and the grass sparkled like the water. Hal and Alan lay down and basked in the sun. The warmth baked much of the stiffness from Alan's wounds, and he stirred contentedly.

Hal spoke lazily. “I dare say we shall be having company soon."

“Company?” Alan was almost asleep.

“The outlaws that control this part of the Forest."

“Outlaws?” Alan was startled awake.

“From what I hear they are decent folk, though rough in ways....” A bird whistled from within the Forest. “There they are now. Let me speak for us."

Alan nodded, his mouth dry. Then he froze in consternation as Hal whistled an answering birdlike call. For a moment the Forest stood in shocked silence. Then came a sharp spoken command, and from the brush stepped eight men, from as many directions, each with drawn bow. Their leader, a tall man whose deerskin cap could not entirely hide his naming red hair, strode forward.

“Get up,” he ordered sharply.

Hal arose, keeping his hands in plain sight. “We are unarmed,” he said.

“And ye,” the outlaw snapped menacingly at Alan.

“My companion is injured!” Hal protested. Alan struggled to his feet, wincing as a wound tore open. Bright blood stained his tunic. Hal turned to help him, and he hotly reprimanded the outlaw.

“Ket the Red, I expected better from you! Did I not give you the signal of friendship?"

Ket's jaw dropped, his face a mixture of astonishment and chagrin. “He speaks truth. Lower yer weapons,” he called to his men. And then to Hal, “How did ye know my name?"

Alan's bleeding had already slowed, and Hal spoke more calmly. “I lived a year with the band of Craig the Grim, in the southern Forest. We heard much good of you.” He pressed a fold of cloth over Alan's wound. “I beg pardon for my sharp words, but I feared for my friend. May I care for him?"

“Ay, surely!” said the outlaw hastily. At the camp, two outlaws stood watch while the others helped fetch water and bandages. Only when Alan was attended did Ket speak again.

“What are yer names?"

“I am Hal, and this is my friend Alan."

“Ye're not brothers, then?"

“Nay!” It was Hal's turn to be surprised. “Why do you ask?"

“Why, by the Lady, ye look alike!"

Alan and Hal regarded each other quizzically. Ket was right. Their light, sun-streaked hair, their high cheekbones and angular jaws were the same. Alan's mouth was a bit wider and more expressive than Hal's, but only at their eyes did all resemblance cease. Alan's were clear and open as blue skies, while Hal's were shadowy and full of mystery. What Hal's feelings were about this strange coincidence, Alan could not tell. He only shrugged as he turned back to Ket.

“I have no brother,” he continued. “Alan and I first met yesterday."

“Yesterday? And how did Alan come to be hurt?"

Alan broke his silence, knowing that Hal could not very well recount his own exploit. “Let me tell you, Ket. I was not paying proper attention, I suppose, when that troop of lordsmen came along. I was far too hungry...."

Alan described his predicament and his rescue, glossing over the fright of the horses; he did not know how to explain that. The outlaws listened intently, and laughed heartily when he mentioned the captain's red face.

“So that was how the big bastard came to be pelting through the Forest yesterday, with his britches soiled and his helmet askew, and his face red as a beet!” cried Ket. “We saw, but we little knew the reason. ‘Twas sweetly done, lad.” Then he sobered. “They'll be looking for ye, long and hard. Ye must be wary."

Hal winced at the praise, and he changed the subject “Ket, if you are no longer angry with me, I would like to ask your help. I have shot a deer. Half is for you. And I would like to trade a haunch and the hide for bread and eggs and such, if you will tell me where."

“Ye shot a deer! But I see no bow, nor did we find the remains of a kill."

“Here is the bow,” said Hal, drawing it out of a bag. It was less than half the length of the outlaws’ bows, very thick and powerfully curved. Ket the Red whistled. “It takes a strong arm to draw that,” he said, and eyed Hal narrowly, with mingled suspicion and respect. “But where is the deer, and how did ye hide the offal?"

Hal laughed. “I cannot give away the secrets of Craig the Grim, even to you,” he said. “Let us say that it was well hidden. But as for the deer, it is here.” He parted the bushes to reveal the hanging carcass.

There followed some argument. Ket maintained that it would be too dangerous for Hal to go to the village, because of the affair of the previous day, “and also,” he added kindly, “because ye're far too young, for all that ye're of man's height, lad.” He offered to go, or send one of his men. Hal would hear nothing of it.

“You are all well known in these parts, especially you, with your flaming hair,” he retorted. “Every time you appear, you are in great danger. But who is likely to recognize me from any description our husky friend may have given? Since I must be a lad today,”—Hal took a significant pause—“I'll be just another farm lad. I shall leave the horse in the Forest, and walk. Only tell me where to knock."

“For the matter of that,” asked the outlaw, mildly, “where is the horse?"

Alan knew by now that Hal's steed grazed loose. Hal whistled, a single low note. There were no hoofbeats to be heard, and the outlaws exchanged amused glances. But suddenly the horse was there, as if he had materialized from the gray trunks of the trees. Silently and gracefully he moved to Hal's side, an alert, questioning look in his fine eyes.

Hal smiled, and spoke to the horse in a low voice; Alan could not catch the words. “He thought something was wrong,” Hal explained, turning.

Impulsively, Alan reached out to pat the beautiful creature, but the steed drew back with a snort.

“You have not yet been introduced,” Hal said. “Give me your hand.” He spoke to the stallion in strange words, and placed Alan's hand on the horse's neck. “He is trained to let no hand touch him except mine,” Hal explained. “Otherwise he would have been stolen from me many a time."

Alan felt odd and at a loss for words. He was used to horses that did as he told them, not to great gray beasts that roamed at will and required introductions. “What is his name?” he managed to ask.

“Arundel. Arun for short."

It was not a familiar name. “Does it mean something?” Alan ventured. Names might have meanings, he thought, to Hal.

“It means ‘dweller in the Eagle Valley.’”

Alan stroked the highly arched neck and looked into the deep eyes of the proud beast which looked down on him. He wondered what strange turn his life was taking. Ket broke in on his thoughts.

“We did not see that horse, or hear him, on our way here. Did he seek to avoid us?” the outlaw demanded.

“Ay. He is trained to do so."

Ket shook his head helplessly, then spoke with a countryman's slow, grave courtesy. “By my troth, now, I dare say that one who has entered my Forest without my knowing it—and who has shot a deer under my very nose with a bow the size of my forearm—and whose very horse goes with the stealth of a ghost in the night—might trade for a few victuals and stay clear of the gallows."

“I thank you,” said Hal, grinning, “for your ‘daresay.’”

Ket gave Hal instructions on how best to approach the village and where to go with the meat. Such meat was forbidden, since the Forest game was supposed to be preserved for noble sport. So Hal had to be careful on more than one account. Ket seemed to be restraining himself from reminding him of this fact. He set his outlaws as a guard around the Forest glade, and Hal left on his errand.

“And you, Alan,” Ket admonished, “bide quietly, and tend to yer wounds.” He strode away.

Left alone, Alan lay once again in the warm sun and dozed. It did not seem long before Hal returned. He was grinning as he entered the glade, and when he had dismounted he began to laugh heartily.

“Alan, such a jest!” he wheezed at last. “I met an old woman near the road, and also two cowherds, and they all told me the same tale. It seems that the lord's captain met a demon-ridden creature, a gaping idiot (yourself, Alan!) which he was bravely attempting to dispatch, when out of the forest rode a great black warrior, over seven feet tall, on a great black horse whose nostrils breathed fire, and this warrior wielded a flaming, blood-red sword. He put a magical spell on the brave company, so that they could not move, and off rode he and the evil creature, cackling curses. And when the lordsmen took pursuit, the sorcerer, horse and idiot all three disappeared in a puff of fiery smoke over the waste!” Hal paused for breath. “I was hard put to keep my countenance! Small wonder they did not recognize me at the village!"

Alan was glad that Hal laughed. The talk of sorcery made him uncomfortable.

“I should have known,” a voice said, “that the lord's pride would outweigh his anger."

Hal jumped like a startled stag, crouching and reaching for his sword. Then Ket stepped from the bushes. A touch of red tinged Hal's cheekbones as he relaxed.

“I did not mean to startle ye, Hal,” said Ket worriedly.

“I am not used to being taken by surprise,” answered Hal, beginning to smile. “There's your revenge, Ket, for this morning. Will you eat with us?"

“Ay, gladly,” replied the outlaw. “But first I have something for Alan."

He led from the thicket a horse loaded with all necessary harness and gear, including clothing. “He's for ye, and all he bears,” Ket told Alan gruffly. “He came to our camp one day with a wounded man on his back. The fellow was tall, with a warrior's scars, but he died without telling us his name. The horse is of no use to us; we're countryfolk, not riders. He has grown fat and lazy, but nevertheless I think he will serve ye."

“I thank you greatly,” gulped Alan, and reached out to touch a soft nose. He had felt worse than naked without a horse; he had felt bereft. Ket could not know the extent of his gratitude.

“And here is the fellow's sword,” said Ket

Alan took the weapon reverently. It was a fine blade, strongly made and carefully balanced. Golden scrollwork covered the scabbard and hilt, the end of which was in the shape of a lion's head, with peridots for eyes.

“This man,” said Alan slowly. “Was he dark of face, with straight dark hair, and a hooked nose with a scar across the bridge, thus?"

“Ye knew him?” marveled Ket.

“Ay,” replied Alan. “His name was Leon Aleron, a brave warrior and a good man. I am proud to wear his sword."

Hal seemed startled. He glanced at Alan with keen interest and something like fear flickering in his gray eyes. But Alan did not notice, for he was patting his horse.

The beast was anything but fat. He was long-limbed and rangy, strong but not particularly handsome, dusty brown in color, with a humorous expression on his long face. He was equipped with a functional saddle and saddlebags, in which Ket had packed basic equipment: clothing, boots, a blanket, a few dishes, and a long hunting knife in a leather scabbard.

Alan tethered the horse to a stake while Hal cut the bread he had brought back from the village. Ket put eggs in the kettle to boil, then speared a slice of venison on the tip of his long hunting dagger and held it near the fire. Alan tried to do the same, but the heat in his face made him weak.

“Sit back,” Hal told him. “I'll do yours. You are not yet well."

They ate bread and meat, then bread and cheese, then some spring onions. Alan could feel the strength welling back into him.

“Ye're new to the Forest, Alan?” Ket asked.

“Ay,” Alan replied. “But I like it,” he added.

“Ay? Ye'd make a proper outlaw, lad. There are some ruffians in the Forest, but most of our enemies fear it. Kingsmen and lordsmen; ye won't find them skulking much beyond the fringes. There is a power in the deep woods that keeps them away. We call it the Lady."