The Thirteenth Scroll (28 page)

Lysandra sat upon a rock by the water’s edge, Cloud-Dancer by her side. With her
Sight
she was examining the boats and the river, trying to build up her courage. She had never been in a boat before, had not been
swimming since she was a child, and though she had told no one, the idea of traveling by water terrified her.

She did not realize Renan and Eiddig had concluded their discussion until suddenly the priest was beside her. He was smiling
confidently.

“The boats will take several days off our journey,” he told her, “and make the going easier. The help of the Cryf is truly
God-sent.”

“You know where we’re going, then?”

“I think so,” Renan answered. “Not the name of the town, but the area and what to look for. You remember how Eiddig said he’d
been Guide of the Cryf for eighty years? Well, he was sixty before he took that office and he’s been studying those Holy Words
since he began his training at the age of twenty. He knows them by heart. I thought I understood the Scroll of Tambryn fairly
well, but he’s helped me see many little things that I was missing. I wish we could stay longer.”

His voice was so enthusiastic, Lysandra could not help herself. “Can’t we?” she asked. “If the boats are going to shorten
our journey by so much—“

“No,” Renan said, shaking his head. “One thing both writings make clear is the need for haste. The Words of Dewi-Sant speak
continually of the ‘beasts of darkness’ biting our heels. Eiddig believes this means that others are following us, trying
to find the same child we seek. If these others, these ‘beasts of darkness,’ find the child first, then according to Tambryn,
the ‘light that dawns in Aghamore will be put out and our eyes shall see no light again.’”

Lysandra made no reply; what could she say to that? If they failed, the Aghamore she knew would die. Compared to that, riding
in a boat did not seem so horrific after all.

She stood, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep breath. “Well,” she said, “we’d best go then. ‘Sooner started, sooner
finished,’ my mother used to say.”

“And I agree,” Renan replied. “I’ll go tell Eiddig we’re ready.”

The Cryf Guide was now with the others saying goodbye to Talog. When Renan approached them, Lysandra felt the burst of new
fear race through the group. One of
them, a slightly older female, suddenly threw her arms around Talog, as if not wanting to let him go.

That’s his mother
, Lysandra realized, feeling the unmistakable fear of losing a child.

She suddenly felt a sense of loss for her own mother, something she had not experienced in too many years gone by.
What would she have done?
Lysandra wondered.
Would she have cried and not wanted to let me go, fearful of the unknown?

Then Lysandra shook her head. No, that would not have been her mother’s way. Her mother, in whom courage and duty ran as surely
as this river, would have sent her daughter off proudly, her eyes dry and her head held high—and saved her tears for private.

And I will do my mother’s memory proud
, Lysandra thought, lifting her chin.
Like her, I’ll try to keep my fears to myself and give only strength and encouragement to my companions… and I have Cloud-Dancer
to help me, something my mother never had
.

Eiddig, Talog, and the other Cryf came with Renan back to where Lysandra and Cloud-Dancer waited. While they crowded around,
Talog knelt to receive the Guide’s blessing. The old one placed his hand upon the younger Cryf’s forehead.

“Talog, son of the Twelfth Clan,” he said, “thy shoulders be made strong to bear the burden now placed upon thee, for thou
earnest the future of the Cryf with thee. The Divine, who hath created thee, shall be with thee and grant clarity unto thine
eyes, wisdom unto thy mind, strength unto thy body, and courage unto thy heart.”

When Eiddig finished, Talog rose and went to his boat, stepping into it with confident ease. Lysandra noticed that he did
not look again at his family, but kept his eyes fixed
on the river path they were to follow. Of his emotions, she could feel nothing.

Eiddig now turned to Renan. The priest did not kneel, but met the Cryf’s stare as an equal—both Servants of the Divine. Lysandra
could feel Eiddig’s approval.

Still, he put his hand upon Renan’s forehead in the gesture Lysandra had seen him use in many situations. It was a sign of
blessing, but Lysandra had the feeling there was more involved than that, something the Cryf Guide was sensing through that
simple touch.

“The Divine be ever with thee,” Eiddig said, “and guide thee, who art the Guide of this journey.”

“And the Divine keep ye safe until we return,” Renan imparted his blessing in return, “and prepare your hearts to aid the
one whom we now seek.”

Renan, too, went to the boats and stepped into the second one with the same confidence Talog had shown. Lysandra would ride
with Talog, the most experienced on the water. Renan, who knew boats from his youth, would follow with Cloud-Dancer.

Eiddig now came over to Lysandra and put one hand upon her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. His other hand he placed on her
forehead. He stood for a moment saying nothing, but Lysandra could feel the encouragement flowing from him and the strength
he wished to share with her.

“The Divine be with thee, Healer,” he said. “On thee hath been placed the heaviest burden of all, for Prophecy’s Hand alone
can unlock the Wisdom that must be a salvation unto this land. But the Divine chooseth not unwisely. Thou hast been given
all thou needest. It dwelleth within thee. Trust unto the Gifts of the Divine and so shall thy heart find its surety and strength.”

Lysandra bowed her head, silently praying Eiddig’s
words were true. Then she
saw
the Cryf lay a hand on Cloud-Dancer’s head and heard him softly say a blessing for the wolf as well.

It was now their turn to get into the boats, but even with her
Sight
Lysandra felt none of the confidence the others had displayed. With a word, she sent Cloud-Dancer into Renan’s boat, and
at her order to stay, the wolf settled down peacefully.

Lysandra now turned toward the boat that was to carry her. Although she had promised herself to hide her fears, she knew the
intensity of this one must show on her face. But Eiddig was there to guide her, and Talog turned to take her other hand. As
she touched the younger Cryf, she was suddenly flooded with all the emotions he was keeping so firmly locked away.

He, too, was afraid—afraid of her and Renan as Upworlders, afraid of leaving the safety of this underground Realm and his
people, afraid of all the unknowns that awaited him and afraid he would never return. All of these fears were overlaid with
his deep sense of duty and his unwavering belief in the protection and Will of the Divine.

But he’s not afraid of this boat or of the water
, Lysandra thought. Taking a deep breath, she let herself be guided to her seat.

Once she was settled, Talog used his paddle to push the boat out into the river’s current. As the boats began to move away,
Eiddig raised his staff high above his head.

“Remember that the Divine goeth with ye,” he called after them, “and hath already chosen your way. Though troubles lie before
ye, fear not. Ye are companions by the Hand of the Divine. Walk ye in faith and ye shall return to us. We shall await your
return in that same faith…”

The current was swift and they were being carried
quickly away. Eiddig’s voice faded, and soon they were traveling in silence. Not even the river made a noise as it carried
them through the stone-walled wonder that was the Realm of the Cryf.

The silence was so complete Lysandra could not tell if they had been on the river for one hour or three, if they had traveled
five miles or fifty. Her
Sight
became an intermittent thing, coming or going on its own whim. In the moments of its absence, with not even Cloud-Dancer’s
presence to comfort her, Lysandra felt the silence like a physical weight on her chest, pushing her down and making it difficult
to breathe. In those moments, she had to fight against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to shout at
the others to talk to her, tell her anything just so she would know she was not alone.

During the times when her
Sight
returned, Lysandra lost her fear in the breathtaking beauty of the river’s course. It wound through rock worn to shapes her
mind could not have constructed, where the different strata of stone painted the walls with stripes of wonder. Veins of gold
and silver, clusters of crystals and colored gems caught the light of the luminous stones that were everywhere in this strange
and amazing Realm. She understood why the Cryf spoke of the Divine so often and intimately; they lived in a Realm no human
hand could have created.

Through all this time and distance, her companion made no effort at conversation. Lysandra was not certain how to break his
silence, but gathering up her courage, she knew she had to try and find
something
they could say to one another.

“If we’re going to travel together,” she said at last, “we should get to know each other—don’t you think? Eiddig
said we would need to trust and—“ she let her voice trail off.

The young Cryf turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “I am Talog,” he said, turning back around.

“That much I know,” Lysandra replied, not ready to give up. “I also know that you are twenty years—twenty cycles—old and that
you are training to be the next Guide to your people.”

Talog lifted one shoulder in a stoic shrug. “What more needest thou know?”

Lysandra was quiet for a moment, thinking. She would have to try another tack.

“Why would Eiddig choose you to come with us?” she asked. “Or did you volunteer?”

Again Talog threw her a glance over his shoulder. “What be that word—volunteer?” he said it slowly, as if feeling it in his
mouth.

“It means you asked to come with us—yourself, instead of Eiddig telling you to.”

“I did not—volunteer—to leave my home,” Talog said, still speaking slowly. “Eiddig did not tell me. The Divine chooseth and
so I go.”

He doesn’t know our language well
, Lysandra realized, listening to the hesitant way he put the words together.

“Talog,” she said, “how is it that you and Eiddig speak our language when the Cryf have a language of their own?”

“All the Cryf know the tongue of the Holy Words,” he replied.

Had she finally found the way to reach through his barriers? Lysandra wondered. “I would like to learn the language of the
Cryf. Will you teach me?” she asked.

Talog gave a single nod. “I shall teach,” he said. “Thou choosest.”

Choose?
she thought.
Choose what—the words?

“All right,” she said. “Cryf, the name of your people—it means
Strong
in our language, right?”

Again came the single nod. “We are The Strong,” he said, pride ringing in his voice. “Strong be we in body and strong in service
unto the Divine.”

“You are training to be a Guide of the Cryf. What is that word, Guide?”

“
Arweinydd
.”

“
Arweinydd
,” Lysandra repeated, trying to match his pronunciation but failing her attempt to roll her “r” or to produce the same lilt
that ran through the word.

“What is the Cryf word for healer?” she asked next.

“
Meddyg
,” Talog said. “Thou art
Meddyg
.”

Over the next hour they traded words. Most of them were simple, like
cwch
for boat and
dwr
for water. Lysandra learned that Cloud-Dancer’s name in the language of the Cryf was
Cwmwl-Dannsio
when translated exactly, though Talog explained that the Cryf would say
Dannsio gan Cwmwl
—Dancer of Clouds.

Her pronunciations were far from perfect, but Talog never laughed. He occasionally corrected her gently, and it was a pleasant
way to pass the time.

Renan will enjoy this when we make camp
, she thought.
Perhaps by the time we return we’ll be able to talk with the Cryf in their language—at least a little. Maybe then more of
them will learn that not all Up-worlders are the same or need to be feared
.

They did not make it out of the Realm of the Cryf that first day, but made camp along the river when their bodies told them
it was time to rest. For the first several hours, Lysandra found that her balance was precarious; walking or sitting, she
still felt as if the boat were beneath
her and she was yet being rocked by the gentle motion of the river. It was disconcerting enough to make it difficult to sleep—but
her fatigue finally won.

When she awoke in the morning, the sensation was gone and solid land felt solid again. The Cryf had provided them with plenty
of travel-food, so breakfast was quickly consumed. The one thing Lysandra missed was a fire over which she could make some
of the herbal tea with which she was used to starting her mornings. But the Great River provided cold, clean water for both
drinking and washing, and Lysandra started her day feeling refreshed if not fully satisfied.

“How much farther before we leave the underground?” Lysandra asked Talog, as they once again settled into their boat.

Talog gave the single, one-shouldered shrug that Lysandra recognized as his general response whenever he did not know an answer
or understand a question. Sometimes, it was difficult to judge which one he meant.

Lysandra saw that she would have to be content with that answer; Talog knew no more than they how long it would take to reach
the outside.
The outside
. That thought made her smile. As beautiful as were the tunnels and caves that comprised the Realm of the Cryf, she missed
the fresh air and the sounds of the birds; she missed the smell of the soil and the feel of the sun. She missed her own
realm
, the Up-world, where she belonged.

It did not take long to get both boats cast off. Lysandra and Talog resumed their pastime of yesterday, exchanging words and
sentences in each other’s language. But sometimes it was comfortable just to sit in silence. The fear with which she had begun
this journey was gone. Today, as she became increasingly used to the gentle motion of the boat, she found it lulling—rather
like
being rocked to sleep. It was easy to close her eyes and let her thoughts drift.