The Swans' War 3 - The Shadow Roads (9 page)

Alaan returned to the others. "If we make camp over here," he said, pointing to the south, "there is a rock outcropping that will give us some shelter."In a few moments they had established themselves in the lee of a small rock face, out of the worst of the cool wind.

"We might start a fire here after dark," Alaan said, looking at the lay of the land. They were in a natural hollow, now, which would likely hide their fire from anyone below. Smoke, of course, would not be hidden, but by dark in this breeze it would be quickly swept away and hard to see on such a black night.

"Who is it Alaan fears?" Fynnol asked Tarn, as darkness fell. Tarn could not see his cousin, but he could hear the concern in his voice.

"I don't know," Tarn said, "but he is watching the north."Indeed, the traveler had posted himself in the brunt of the breeze and sat, hunched against the wind, staring toward the mountains. Stars appeared, but the moon had not yet risen, and the forest spread out as dark as the ocean.

Upon the hilltop, the trees bent and creaked to the wind, branches flailing the darkness. Leaves and pine needles whirled by, and the wind whistled eerily from all around.

"Well, it is a good night for a ghost story," Fynnol said as he used a flint to fire some tinder. "Cynddl, certainly you must know a good ghost story? Something that will creep into our dreams and wake us all at the slightest noise.""I know too many stories that will do that," the Fael said, "but I think tonight is a night for a different kind of tale." Cynddl shifted himself, warming his legs by the fire, for the wind bore the cold of the mountains. "This is an old story of the Dubrell, one that Wolf-son must know. The kingdom to the south has always loomed over the valley of the giants, like a dark, shadowing mountain. Even in more peaceful times the people of this valley lived uneasily in that shadow. It ruined their sleep and troubled their waking hours. For some it was like a dark place in the mind. A dark place of fear that never went away even beneath the midday sun. There were no monstrosities escaping the southern kingdom then, only the whis-perings of Death's servants. To most these whisperings were no more than chill breezes, disturbing one's sleep. But to others there were words in such breezes—words and promises. A group of Dubrell heard these promises and heeded them. Secretly their numbers grew—""This is a lie!" exploded Wolfson. "None of my people ever had dealings with the southern kingdom!" The giant had risen to his feet and glared down at Cynddl, pointing a massive finger at the story finder. His other hand went to the hilt of his sword.

"The stories I find are true," Cynddl said evenly, "whether you believe them or not. I apologize if this story disturbs you.""I won't listen to lies!" the giant said, and stormed off into the night.

Everyone was silent a moment, uncertain what to do, then Crowheart said, "I would hear the rest of this story.""So would I," Fynnol agreed.

Alaan, who had come to stand just at the firelight's edge, nodded.

Cynddl composed himself again, his eyes losing focus as he looked within to that place where stories were found. "Secretly their numbers grew," he said again, "and they began to whisper among themselves, whisper of overthrowing the leaders of their people and making bargains with the kingdom to the south, so they would not have to live in fear. On a moonless night they came here, where a tower stood—Thollingkep it was called. By deception they had the gate opened, and slipped within…"Tarn was no longer staring into the fire, but into the darkness. He realized that Wolf son stood not far off, listening.

"A terrible fight ensued, but the Dubrell of Thollingkep were murdered—man, woman… child. A war broke out among the giant folk, a long war that finally saw the defeat of the traitors— those who had listened to the whispers. That is why the Dubrell don't come here now. It is a cursed place they say—a haunted place."Wolfson appeared out of the darkness. "How did you know the name of this hill?" he asked, his voice quiet now.

"Cynddl is a Fael story finder," Alaan said. "He can hear the stories of a place. What he says is true. There is no lying to a story finder."Wolfson stared at Cynddl a moment.

"That is not the story I've heard," the giant said. "The elders say that Death sent a plague through the eastern parts of our land, and it swept the children away. He sent emissaries to the elders of these lands, then, and promised to return the children if they would make war on their brethren. As a token of his goodwill he sent a child—a single child who had died, now returned to the liv-ing. In their sorrow the fathers took up arms against their own people."Cynddl shook his head. "That is not the story I have found here.""Death lets no one go who has passed through the gate," Alaan said. "No one. I'm sorry."Wolfson hung his head a moment. His hand dropped from the hilt of his sword.

A deep blaring note, like a distant horn, came to them then, car-ried on the wind. Tarn barely noted it,but Wolfson pulled himself up, turning his head slowly, listening, completely alert.

"Did you hear that?" the giant whispered. The faltering firelight played across his bearded face, now suddenly strained and grim.

"I thought I heard something," Fynnol said, looking up at the giant in apprehension. "What made such a sound?""A horn," the giant whispered, still turning his head, seeking sounds on the wind. "There! Again! Did you hear that?"Tarn heard.

Wolfson grabbed his axe.

"Shall we douse the fire?" Cynddl asked.

"No. Build it up!" the giant said as he strode toward a stand of saplings. "And find more firewood."He began to hack the saplings down and lop off the branches. Alaan took up their own axe and went to the giant's aid, not even stopping to ask questions.

"Here," Wolfson said, tossing a sapling to Alaan. "We must have spears. Sharpen that and harden it in the fire. Iron tips are what we need, but this will have to do.""What's out there?" Fynnol asked. He stood looking on, almost bouncing with fear.

"Perhaps it isn't us they're after," Wolfson said, still chopping branches away. "We might hope." And he said no more.

Tarn strung his bow and found all his arrows before searching for more firewood. The wind continued to howl through the trees, and, overhead, clouds buried the stars. Firelight grew as they heaped on dry branches, lighting the sentinel trees, coloring the ap-prehensive faces of his companions a dull orange.

Tarn threw another armful of twisted branches on the fire and wiped away the sweat from his forehead and eyes. The call of the horn was heard again, but this time closer, the sound making the hair on his neck stand up. Wolfson's pack surged into camp, their own hackles erect. They were fretting and growling,howling spo-radically. They gathered about their master but kept their eyes on the darkness to the north,their teeth bared.

Tarn stood by the fire, his bow in hand, one of Wolfson's makeshift spears planted in the earth. They all arrayed themselves with their backs to the fire, Wolfson in the center, Cynddl,Tam, and Fynnol close to him, Alaan and Crowheart to the outside.

A different sound was carried on the wind now—the sound of breaking branches, of something crashing through the trees. The wolves began snarling and yapping at the darkness. Overhead the crows screeched and fluttered from branch to branch.

Whatever crashed through the wood stopped just at the shore-line where light met the sea of darkness. Wolfson took up a dead fir branch, all its needles turned to brown. He thrust it in the fire, then held it up flaring and crackling. Whatever lay beyond the firelight hesitated but did not retreat.

The horn sounded again, this time very near, and there was a sudden stamping in the darkness, then out of it shot some dark-skinned creature, the height of a pony. It went straight for Wolfson, who tossed his brand at its face and stepped forward, driving his spear into its neck.

A boar, Tam realized, but huge and grotesque. Wolfson sprang out of the way of the tusks, and the beast charged into the fire. Tam leapt aside as burning logs were thrown every which way.

More creatures thundered out of the trees, some larger than the first. Wolves leapt at their legs from behind, and they kicked and threw their heads, but kept coming, snouts down, aiming to gore the men. Crows fell upon one, tearing at its eyes so that it veered aside and stopped, trying to shake off its tiny attackers. Crowheart stepped forward and calmly cut its throat with a sword.

Tam was struck from behind as he drove his makeshift spear into the shoulder of the largest of the creatures. He was thrown down on the ground and only saved himself from being trampled by rolling nimbly to one side.

"Go up!" Alaan shouted, pointing at the pinnacle of stone that leaned over the camp.

Fynnol was already scrambling up, tearing moss away from the rock in his efforts. Tam swept up his bow and quiver and tried to follow. The giant boars seemed to be everywhere, charging in all di-rections, chasing after wolves, trying to shake off the attacking crows. Though Tam didn't know who had fallen, he went bounding up the rocks hand over hand, his bow and quiver thrown quickly over a shoulder and threatening to get in his way and cause a fall.

Fynnol reached down and grabbed the first thing that came to hand—Tarn's hair—and pulled him up onto the small summit. A boar tried to follow, snapping at Tarn's heels, but Fynnol put an arrow in its snout, and it fell away, squealing.

A moment later they pulled Cynddl onto the peak and the three sent a rain of arrows down into the creatures that ran amok below. Fire had spread everywhere, catching in the dry grasses and in the dead branches of trees. The scene was chaos, with Wolfson in the middle, surrounded by his wolves, charging this way and that. Rabal's crow army lit upon the faces of the beasts, but Crowheart was nowhere to be seen.

"There must be twenty of them!" Fynnol shouted.

Rabal and Alaan appeared from behind, climbing onto the crowded summit. They began calling to Wolfson. "Come up! Come up!" though Tam didn't know where the giant would stand.

The largest of the beasts threw himself at the little hill of stone,and the men hacked and thrust with their swords. The pig would have thrown them all off but a rock rolled beneath its feet, and it slid down, landing on its side, where the pack fell upon it.

Wolfson came clambering up the slope then, and the archers tried to drive off the beast that chased him. The giant clung to the stone just below them, there being no room for him on the crest. He held on to the stone with one hand and brandished his sword with the other. Below, among the patches of flame, the enraged boars gathered, snuffling and squealing, arrows bristling from their faces and flanks. Shadows wavered across the ground and trees, and here and there fires flared up as some dry bush or grasses were touched by flame.

"They're going to charge us," Wolfson said, he looked behind. They were little more than a dozen feet above the giant creatures, and to their backs the ground was even closer as the slope of the hill rose up. "I think we have no choice but to run into the trees. Down the slope there are some great oaks and maples. We might climb up and be out of their reach. They will be gone by sun-up, if we can stay alive that long."The wind whipped the giant's hair and beard, and blew bits of flaming vegetation past their faces. They all stood, gasping for breath, sweat running freely down faces turned the colors of sun-set by the firelight. Alaan had blood running down his arm and covering his hand, though he didn't seem to notice.

A crashing in the forest behind caused them all to jump.

"They are behind us now, too," Alaan said, hefting his sword.

"They're going to charge!" Wolfson warned, and certainly the beasts did seem to have worked up their rage, squealing and paw-ing at the ground. Tarn could see them in the orange light of the spreading fire. The eye did not admit their size—the largest the height of horses, but twice a horse's bulk. Lethal-looking tusks pro-truded from their snouts, and their small eyes glittered madly in the flickering light.

The wind blew fiercely across the hill, whipping the men's clothes and hair. It moaned through the trees, tossing branches and fanning the growing flames. A horn sounded, echoing down the wind. Wolfson braced himself for the assault, which he would meet first.

The squealing reached a frightening crescendo, and the terrible beasts charged in a mass.

Out of the trees, at that very moment, plunged riders.

"Hafydd's spies!" Fynnol cried, pointing.

"Into the trees!" Alaan shouted.

Tam turned to run, but more of the creatures loomed out of the dark. He fired an arrow, then another. The dark mass did not falter but charged through the underwood directly for them.

"Jump!" Cynddl cried, and they all threw themselves from the small summit.

Tam crashed through some sparse bushes and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the scratches and cuts. His bow was gone, so he yanked his sword from its scabbard and crouched low, ready to fight man or beast. From his place in the shadows he stared into the small clearing, and there, lit by burning trees and patches of grass, he saw a battle, between mounted men and these creatures, out of someone's nightmare. The horses wore trappings that protected them from being gored, and the men seemed to know their busi-ness, as though they'd fought such beasts before.

To Tarn's surprise, Wolfson leapt down from his perch and waded into the battle, calling out to the men, who answered him with words Tam did not know. Alaan ran out of the shadows to guard the giant's back, and they leapt upon any animal thrown down by the riders, hacking at its throat or cruelly taking out its eyes.

The remaining creatures crashed into the dark wood, the sounds of their progress loud over the howl of the wind. They were gone.

The riders dismounted and immediately began beating out the flames with their cloaks. Wolfson took up the ruins of someone's bedding and did the same, flailing at the burning grass, coughing from the smoke. Tam sheathed his sword and followed the giant's example, choking and covering his mouth. But the flames fought back, refusing to be beaten, consuming all the fuel left by a dry summer.