The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (8 page)

A diffuse, misty light spread over the eastern horizon, where the stars wallowed, then went under. Tam was awake, feeding the fire, when Alaan returned to the room.

"The wolf seems to have survived the night," Alaan said, "though Crowheart looks the worse for it. He says he will be able to ride today, but I don't think he will last the distance I had planned." Alaan began gathering up his belongings and packing them for the day's ride.

"You think the Dubrell will grant us passage then?" Fynnol asked.

Alaan tightened saddlebag buckles. "I don't know, but we must cross their lands all the same."Fynnol stopped his packing and stared at Alaan, not liking what he heard.

"Have you learned anything of the riders?" Tam wondered.

"Not a thing. I dropped the broach you found back on the cob-bles. I hope they'll find it. None of the Dubrell were about, nor were the riders. There are more mysteries here than answers.""It is a place with many stories," Cynddl said. He leaned against one of the giant chairs, his arms crossed as though he were cold. His manner was subdued and his gaze lost in the flickering of the flames. "As can be seen by the size of the keep, many Dubrell dwelt here, though long ago now. This is a crossroads of sorts, but not of the usual kind. It is a crossroads between the land between the mountains and the hidden lands. Armies have passed through here,and fugitives, brigands, and sorcerers. War has come upon the Dubrell without warning from men with whom they had no quar-rel. Many a farmstead has been burned, many a village.

"But this is the giants' home, and they will not leave it. They have a love for this land that is told in their stories and songs. Borenfall—Heaven's Doorstep—they call it." Cynddl closed his eyes. "They built this keep to watch over the north pass, by which we arrived yesterday. Beyond the gates you will find mounds where the dead have been burned and buried; both Dubrell and men. Last night, as I lay awake, I saw the battles fought here, the giants almost always outnumbered. They are not warlike by nature, but when they are angered…"There was once a race of men who lived several days' ride to the north. They were warlike and merciless. They preyed upon the Dubrell, raiding their villages and putting everyone to the sword— or so the giants believed. One winter night a young man, hardly more than a boy, stumbled into a village of the Dubrell. He claimed his name was Raindel and that he had escaped from the land to the north, where the men held many Dubrell captive, keeping them as slaves. The giants were forced to do the most menial work, even pulling the plow, for the men said that horses were too valuable for such work. The boy had crossed the north pass in winter, and was frostbitten and fevered and near to death. The Dubrell who looked upon him went into a silent rage. More of their kind were gathered from all across the valley, and in the dead of winter they forced their way through the deep snows of the north pass. The first vil-lage of men they found at night and fell upon the unsuspecting in-habitants, putting everyone to the sword, burning all the buildings.

There they found a few of their kind living in squalor, little better than animals." Cynddl paused a moment, rubbing his brow so that Tam could not see his eyes. "And so it went, village after village. Even the keeps of the men were not proof against the rage of the giants, who felled great trees and, using them for battering rams, shattered the strongest gates.

"The last men met the Dubrell on a winter field, their land in flames all around. They brought forward all the Dubrell who re-mained in the land and gave them into the keeping of the invaders. Chests of gold and other valuables were given as well. 'Leave the few of us who remain in peace, and we will never raid your lands again, and never again will we keep your people for our slaves.' But the Dubrell were not satisfied. Many wanted the blood of this last army as well. A great argument ensued and finally they reached an agreement. 'Leave these lands this day, and we will spare you. Ride beyond the Shattered Mountain, and settle there. Any of your kind still dwelling here on the morrow will pay the price for what you have done to our people.' "The men knew that many would die in such a march, but all would die before the wrath of the Dubrell, so they gathered their remaining people and made what preparations they could to travel north. They passed into a winter storm and were never heard of again.

Cynddl went to his bed and began packing his belongings, look-ing at no one, his face tired and pale. The others left him in peace and packed silently for a time. When the door opened and Stone-hand appeared, they all started.

"Uamon would speak with you," the giant said. "Come, break your fast."In the large room they found the wolf sleeping peacefully, Rabal in a heap beside him, snoring softly.

"He is happier with beasts than men," Uamon said. The old giant rose as they entered and motioned them to the table, where he sat alone. A warm mash of grain was ladled from a steaming iron pot.

"Have you an answer for us, Uamon?" Alaan asked. "There is little time for what we must do.""Time chases all of us," Uamon said. "But I have duties to the Dubrell that cannot be ignored. I know you not, Alaan, but that you have come from afar where few men travel. Enemies followed you—evil men, perhaps. And you go now to the south into lands of mist and fear. This concerns the Dubrell, for our southern border is threatened by strange beasts that appear only on the darkest nights. Our people there fall victim to sickness and despair. Some have gone mad. Shall I send strangers there? Strangers who know something of magic?" He drank from a steaming cup. "You seek knowledge you say. A noble endeavor. A spell decays, you tell us, and soon the world will be overrun." He fixed his troubled blue eyes on Alaan. "If we did not struggle against dark creatures, I would not believe you." His gaze wandered to the sleeping wolf. "But perhaps you have been sent to aid us, to deliver us, for in the long war against the night we are losing." His eyes seemed to glis-ten a little, but then he returned his attention to Alaan. "If you will take Wolfson with you, I will grant you leave to cross our lands."Alaan drew in a long breath and placed his fingertips together. "To the southern border of your own lands—I have no objection to his accompanying us—but there he must return."Uamon nodded. "Agreed."Alaan looked over at Tam, not hiding his misgivings. He turned his gaze back to the giant. "Wolfson must understand—I will not tolerate his interfering in my duties."Uamon did not look away. "Nor will Wolfson tolerate your en-dangering our people." The two stared a moment more, then both looked away. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

The outsiders were soon carrying their bags and weapons down into the courtyard. Tam wanted to ask about the men who had arrived so late at night, but followed Alaan's example and said nothing.

Wolfson had their mounts saddled and waiting in the courtyard. The great gate creaked open, and Stonehand waved to them from ean Russell the top of the wall. Wolfson did not ride—it would have taken a Fael horse to bear his weight—but Tarn remembered that his stride was long. On his back the giant carried a pack, and in his hand a staff. A sword swung at his side, and from his pack hung a massive iron helm. They filed out, Wolfson waving to Stonehand.

Off to their right, in the shadows of the trees, Tam saw move-ment.

"Wolves," Crowheart said. "But do not be concerned, you are with me." He glanced over at the giant who plodded along beside him. "And I'm sure Wolfson would not let us come to harm."Tam nodded. Not that armed men should normally fear wolves—but he had seen what the pack had done to Hafydd's spies the previous day.

The path led down into the trees, the birds all around singing of morning. The grass was damp with dew, and the air still mountain-cool. Tam looked back once where a hole in the trees opened up, and there on the wall of the keep he thought he saw another stand-ing beside Stonehand—someone who did not reach the giant's shoulder.

"So who were those men who came last night?" Tam called to Alaan. "The Dubrell did everything they could to keep us from knowing they were there.""So they did," Alaan answered. He slowed his horse a little so that Tam caught up.

"What did you mean when you said they would only need sur-coats if they were fighting men?" Tam asked, a little afraid of the answer.

Alaan did not respond immediately. They rode on through the pure mountain morning, the light playing down through the trees. "You heard Uamon talking about a threat to the south. I don't think the Dubrell are frightened of men, somehow. Their numbers are small, but they are formidable warriors. I have seen what Slight-hand could do—how he could turn the tide of a battle all by him-self. No, the giants are fighting something else. And these men who came last night, these men who carry the token of the Knights of the Vow, they are the Dubrell's allies. That is what I think. I have seen battle-hardened men-at-arms many times, and these men were so hardened. But I somehow doubt that Lord Toren's friend, A'brgail, knows of their existence.""It's as though the past has come back to haunt us," Tarn said.

"Yes," Alaan answered. "One would think time would be a more effective barrier, but it has not proven so."As they rode down into the green valley below, Tarn could see ribbons of smoke spiraling up above the trees, but no villages or buildings could he find. On the lake's west shore he could see fields of irregular shapes, one spotted with the dark forms of cattle, but there were no other signs of men—or Dubrell.

They made reasonable time, and despite the urgency of Alaan's commission, the company did not seem to hurry. It was as though the threat that lurked to the south paralyzed them a little, slowing their pace.

Tarn found himself taking pleasure in the day, in the flight of birds or in the patterns made by sunlight falling on the forest floor. He could see why the Dubrell loved their valley, and it was some time before he remarked its great similarity to the Vale of Lakes. Though of course the Vale had many more fields and small villages and roads. This valley hardly appeared to be inhabited at all.

When Tarn pointed this out to Alaan, the traveler answered, "The valley stretches far to the west, where there are villages and much farming. That's why I chose to come by the north pass. I thought we might slip through without being noticed, but luck did not favor us."They rode that day through the valley, which appeared to be a place of peace and quiet beauty. Fynnol, however, didn't look at peace; nor did he seem to notice the beauty around him. When Tarn commented on the similarity between this valley and their own, Fynnol barely raised his head to look but only nodded and fell back to brooding.

Cynddl was equally quiet and troubled, though Tarn suspected it had little to do with any events of that day or even anxiety about the future. He had seen his friend look this way before—the stories of this place disturbed him, and there was no place where he could hide from them. Tarn had come to realize that the life of a story finder was not enviable. For every story that rose from the ground like a gift, there were many that rose like cadavers, disturbing and best left unknown. The stories of men were too often stories of war and treachery, greed and revenge. Cynddl had once told him that stories of love did not linger and last the way stories of hatred or vi-olence did—as though the intensity of the emotions sustained the stories over time. Tarn wanted to believe that love would be stronger than hatred, but it appeared not to be so.

Wolfson drifted apart from them as they traveled, and now and then Tarn would catch a glimpse of him striding beneath the trees, a wolf or two gamboling about his heels.

And to think, Tarn found himself ruminating, they had set out to travel a fortnight on the river to buy horses upon which to ride home. That had been their idea of an adventure—the adventure of a lifetime! He suspected that if he lived to tell his story in the Vale, none would believe him. No, that was not true: his grandfather would believe.

Evening brought them to the base of a wooded hill that stood out from the terrain around like a massive burial mound. They filled their drinking skins from a spring that Wolfson knew.

"It is a good place to camp," the giant said, crouching before the spring. The water splashed out of a cleft in the rock and fell into a diminutive pool, bordered by large, flat stones, no doubt placed there by Wolfson's people. Darkness was perhaps an hour off, and already the mountains were casting long shadows over the green valley. "There is a often a cool wind from the north at night. Air sweeping down off the mountains.""We will make our camp on the hilltop," Alaan said, waving a hand up the slope.

"But the hilltop will offer little protection from the wind," Wolf-son argued.

"No, but it will offer protection from other things."Wolfson stood, rocking from one foot to the other. "My people don't go up on this hill. It is a cursed place.""We will chance superstition," Alaan said, and led his horse to-ward the wooded slope.

It was almost sunset as they crested the mound. There were fewer trees there, and the vantage offered unobstructed views to all points of the compass. To the north, rugged mountains and the long valley winding off to the west. They looked down on the for-est from the hill, and into the large meadows that interrupted the green carpet of trees. Cynddl began pointing and naming species of trees by the differing shades of green.

Already a cool breeze flowed down from the mountaintops, and the companions all found cloaks from their packs. Wolfson looked accusingly at Alaan, but the traveler did not seem to notice, or if he did, care. As the others unsaddled horses and collected firewood, Alaan stood staring off to the north, his face grim. One of Wolfson's small pack of wolves came into camp then, and it took up a place next to Alaan, sitting and staring out over the forest as though it too looked for something.

"What is it, Alaan?" Tarn said quietly. He had positioned him-self so that Alaan was between him and the wolf.

"No fire," Alaan said. "We will stand watches tonight.""Are we so close to Death's kingdom?""Yes and no. Our task is too important to risk by complacency." He turned away and fetched his bow from his saddle, then walked once around the hill, examining the lay of the land, gazing off into the south for a while, where the dark clouds of a storm hung low, obscuring the landscape.