“People don’t talk about it. If you ask them, they either tell you there is no bridge, or they say whoever attempts to cross ends up being washed down the river, stone dead. That would be Hollow’s doing.”
“But he let you across.”
“After testing me, yes. Hollow is old and strong. I can’t think what has happened to him.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Tali said, “so let’s get some sleep. We’ll move on in the morning. And, before you ask, we’re not taking that creature with us. If I wanted another traveling companion, it wouldn’t be one with a shrill voice and a bottomless stomach.”
Morning came, and still Hollow had not returned. We packed up in silence while the pookie perched on the rocks, staring at us. It was an odd-looking creature, a little like a cat, but with a hairless tail and enormous ears. Perhaps I was imagining the look of reproach in those gleaming eyes.
“What about the fire?”
“I’ll bank it up; it’ll keep the cave warm for today, at least. Maybe he’ll be back soon.” I hoped the pookie could find food in these underground ways or on the hillside beyond. It felt entirely wrong to leave it on its own. What if Hollow never came back?
“Don’t even think of it,” Tali said over her shoulder. How she knew what was in my mind was a mystery. “The creature is a burden we can’t afford. We must go swiftly and quietly. We’ve lost half a day already. I want to be in the safety of those woods before there’s too much movement on the road. Where’s this bridge?”
I dealt with the fire, then led her out through the passageway to the west. The bridge was a single log of immense length, set high above the Rush. At the far end it rested on a ledge partway down the cliff face. A precarious path led from there to the high track toward Deepwater. It was barely dawn; I hoped it was too early for sentries.
It had rained during the night and the bridge was wet. I reminded myself that when I’d done this before, I had been weak and ill, and Hollow had leapt up onto the log to challenge me. He had made me play a game of catch, using the pookie as a ball. And I had fallen, as so many had before me, but Hollow had caught me. After that, we’d been friends. “The thing is not to look down,” I said, my stomach churning.
“Check that your pack’s secure.” Tali was assessing the bridge and the hillside beyond, perfectly calm. “Hold your staff crosswise and use it for balance. Scuff your boots in the soil here, you’ll get a better grip. Best if you go first; you’ve done this before.”
That was ridiculous, since this was the kind of feat she excelled at; most likely she wanted me to go first so she’d have some chance of grabbing me if I slipped. I hitched up my bag, tucked the hem of my skirt into my belt, and gripped my staff with palms suddenly slick with sweat. I stepped onto the bridge. Fixed my gaze on a point at the other side where there was a rock a bit like a dragon’s head. Said Flint’s name to myself a few times, silently, as if it might be a lucky talisman.
“If you’re ready, go on. I’ll be right behind you.” Tali sounded completely confident, as if she hadn’t the least doubt that I could walk across quite steadily. It helped. I headed out onto the log, one foot before the other, not trying for speed but maintaining a rhythm, because if I hesitated, I would have too much time to think. One foot. The other foot. Adjust the staff. Keep looking at the dragon’s head. Keep breathing, in, out, in, out. A long way. In the middle a fresh breeze caught us, coming down the river from the snowy mountains to the north. In, out, in, out.
“You’re doing well,” came Tali’s voice, a murmur now. “More than halfway there.”
One foot. The other foot. The staff a little up, a little down. Don’t drop it, Neryn.
“Stop!” Tali’s voice was tight with alarm, but quiet enough not to startle me into falling.
I froze in place, my heart hammering. “What?” I squeaked.
“There’s something over there. On the path. Back up, Neryn.”
Back up? It was hard enough going forward. I couldn’t see anything on the ledge at the end of the bridge. I turned my head carefully, making myself look up the path toward the cliff top. And there, coming down from above, was a nebulous dark shape, a thing of mist and shadow. Within that strange veil could be discerned legs like tree trunks, fists the size of platters, dark penetrating eyes above a grinning mouth full of formidable teeth.
“Back up!” repeated Tali in an urgent whisper.
The dark form was moving fast; he was at the bridge before I could take another step, walking out toward us, reaching out a huge hand. “Hold on tae me, Neryn. We canna hae ye fallin’.” He led me forward, and in no time I was safely on the ledge, and Tali was coming down after me, her eyes wide with shock. “Sorry I wasna hame tae greet the twa o’ ye,” Hollow said, giving Tali a good look up and down.
“You’re safe; that’s all that matters. I was worried about you. Hollow, this is my friend and guard, Tali. We sheltered in your cave last night; we fed the pookie and made up your fire.”
“And now we’ll be getting on,” said Tali.
“Oh, aye,” said Hollow. “I was comin’ tae that. Will ye no’ cross back ower, and I’ll mak’ ye a bittie breakfast tae see ye on your way? I ken ye’re in a rush, but this ledge isna the coziest spot for a chat.”
Tali glared at me, as if this delay were my doing. “We’ve no time for this,” she said.
“Ye’re headin’ off on a mission, and ye’ve nae time tae heed a warnin’?” The strange mist was dispersing from around Hollow’s massive form, revealing more clearly his blockish frame and his rough-hewn features. “Ye’d be plannin’ on headin’ up that way, aye?”
“We’re going west,” I said. “To the isles, to find the Hag. This is the safer path down to Deepwater. We wanted to avoid the king’s bridge.”
“Weel,” said Hollow, scratching his chin, “ye wouldna be wantin’ tae tak’ this path. But ye shouldna be followin’ the king’s road neither. The wee wumman, Sage, was by here no’ sae lang since, and tellit me what’s planned. I took it on masel’ tae check the coast was clear for ye, knowin’ ye’d be by here soon. There’s king’s men on guard by the track up yonder.” He gestured up the path we had planned to take. “Gae that way and ye’ll walk right intae them.”
Tali stared at him. “You checked the coast was clear, you say. That took all night?” It was a challenge.
“Tali,” I said, “Hollow is a friend. I told you.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. I reminded myself that it was her job to keep me safe; I might need to get used to this kind of thing.
“We’ll come back over with you,” I said, making the decision. “You’re right, this is not the place to discuss things.” Chances were I was standing on the very spot where Sorrel had died in agony; chances were Tali was in the place where Sage had fought a desperate battle to keep the king’s men at bay while I fled across the bridge. “Especially if there are Enforcers just around the corner.”
“O’ course,” Hollow said, “I could hae got rid o’ them for ye. But that didna seem wise. I dinna want them comin’ up in numbers, stormin’ the brig wi’ fire and iron. Yon cave’s a handy shelter; chances are your folk may need it again.”
We walked back over the bridge. Hollow insisted on going sideways and leading me by the hand while Tali came behind, her silence heavy with doubt. When we were halfway across, the pookie emerged from the entry on the other side to stand by the bridge, quivering and giving out little shrieks.
“Silly wee gomerel,” said Hollow fondly. “Doesna care for bein’ on his ainsome; jumps at shadows. Didna bite ye, did he?”
“I didn’t give him the opportunity.”
“Gets up tae mischief when I’m awa’. Scatters ma banes, chews on the beddin’, lets me know he’s no’ best pleased.”
Back in the cavern, we set down our belongings again—Tali kept her staff close—while Hollow went off down another passage and returned with a substantial joint of meat, most likely from one of the local sheep. Th
is he laid on the coals to cook. Then he set about rearranging the disordered bones until the hearth was encircled by an orderly pattern, with skulls at precisely placed intervals. The largest of these looked like an ox’s, complete with great horns; the smallest was tiny and delicate, a shrew’s or vole’s. When all was to his satisfaction, the brollachan gave a contented sigh, sank down on a large stone, and turned his gaze on us, solemn now. The pookie leapt into his arms and clung, chirruping.
“Mightna be the way ye wanted tae spend the mornin’, but I’m glad I caught the twa o’ ye before ye met up wi’ the king’s men. And at least ye’ll get a good feed wi’ me.”
“I’m so happy to see you, Hollow. I thought you might be gone right away. Or hurt.”
He eyed me. “ ’Twould tak’ mair than a few poxy Enforcers tae hurt me, Neryn. But the twa o’ ye—Sage tellit me your companion there is a braw fighter, but nae lassie’s braw enough tae fend off a troop o’ king’s men hung about wi’ iron weaponry. Dinna ye try tae tell me otherwise,” he added quickly when Tali made to speak. “If ye’re as guid as they say ye are, ye willna lead Neryn intae peril, and that’s a fact. Listen now. I ken ye dinna want tae be waitin’ here wi’ me any langer than ye must. It didna need Sage tae tell me the sand’s runnin’ through the glass quicker than ye thought. ’Tis all ower the place now; wee folk passin’ the word, birds and creepin’ things tellin’ how we should be gettin’ ready for a big fight.”
“Already,” breathed Tali. “Sage left Shadowfell only a matter of days before we did. How could she have spread the word so quickly? I thought the Good Folk were slow to trust.”
“Ye suggestin’ a brollachan’s fibbin’ tae ye, lassie?” Hollow stretched his mouth in a grimace.
“Getting accurate information could mean life or death on this journey. I’d be stupid not to check it. And my name’s Tali.”
“The lassie has a tongue on her,” Hollow said, the grimace turning to a grin. “Our folk hae ways o’ passin’ messages, and ways o’ crossin’ country, that your folk canna understand, lassie. Tali. That’s a guid strong name.”
She gave him a tight nod.
“I told ye the word was bein’ passed abroad; I didna say those that are passin’ it are happy wi’ it. But change is afoot. The Master o’ Shadows is walkin’ the land, and a Caller’s stepped up. Sage tellit me ye passed your test, Neryn. That the Master came tae ye o’ his ain will. So there’s nae doot ye can mak’ the difference.”
“I hope so, Hollow. But I do need to get to the isles, to find the Hag and do the first part of my training. And now that time’s so short, I’ll have to go to the north as well before next winter.”
“The Lord o’ the North? They say he’s sleepin’ and canna be woken.”
“The Northies said that. They implied that he was the one who should be keeping the Master of Shadows in check.”
“That’s the old balance: earth and fire. Water and air. Mebbe ye can call him out, Neryn. Seems naebody else can.”
The task ahead was becoming so daunting it made me feel sick. I said nothing.
“Hollow.” Tali was trying for a more courteous tone, though I could see the wish to be gone in her restless fingers and the little frown that never left her dark brows. “You say we can’t use this cliff path because of Enforcers. The only alternative is the king’s bridge, but you say we shouldn’t use that either, and I agree entirely. It would be a foolish risk. What choice is left to us, go home or wait here indefinitely? You know we have very little time to accomplish this. The isles, the north, home before the autumn storms.”
A lengthy silence, then, as Hollow turned the meat on the coals. A rich, savory smell filled the cavern. “There is a wee path,” the brollachan said eventually. “I dinna ken if ye’d be wantin’ tae go that way. A secret path, ’tis. Human folk canna find it on their ain. But Neryn’s no’ the common kind o’ human folk. If ye care tae use it, I’ll show ye how.”
“A path,” Tali echoed. “Where?”
“Straight up the cliff frae the brig, ower the hill, west as the raven flies. A bittie later the way curves tae the south. It comes out by Hiddenwater. Ye’d want tae be guid at climbin’.”
“Due west,” mused Tali.
“So we could bypass Summerfort altogether,” I said. Even better, we could get as far as Hiddenwater without setting foot near the well-traveled path that ran beside Deepwater.
“Wait a moment,” said Tali. My heart sank. “If the path goes the way you describe, it would have to cross Wedderburn land, for part of the way, at least.”
“Ach,” said Hollow, throwing his hands wide, “I dinna understand your clans and holdings and chieftains. The four Watches, they’re auld and easy to grasp. But those others, they’re the lines drawn by human folk for their ain purposes, and make nae sense tae me. What’s wrong wi’ walkin’ on Wedderburn land? Is there an auld curse, or a sheep disease, or is the chieftain o’ those parts another such as that king o’ yours, the fellow that’s set Alban all at sixes and sevens wi’ his thirst for power?”
“We don’t know,” Tali said, her mouth grim. “There’s old history between that chieftain and our leader. I won’t go into details, but we’ve no cause to expect a welcome if we’re caught crossing his land. Still, given the choice between that or the keen eyes of the Summerfort sentries, your wee path seems the safer option.”
“Do you know the path well, Hollow?” I asked. “How good is the cover? How long would it take us to reach Hiddenwater?”
“ ’Twould be quicker than gaein’ down the valley and along the lochs. There’d be risks, aye; but ye wouldna be needin’ tae pass close by this fellow’s stronghold. Keep tae the north o’ that, cross a wee river ower a ford, pass a hill wi’ a crown o’ standin’ stanes, and after that bear southwest. Ye’ll find oaks, pines, rocks. Guid cover, aye. And if ye dinna gae south afore ye pass that hill, no’ sae many settlements. For a woodcrafty lassie such as yoursel’, ’tis a guid way.”
I looked at Tali.
“We have no real choice,” she said. “Time’s short. I’m not taking you over the king’s bridge, it’s just too risky. And the original plan is no longer viable. So we’ll try this path. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I said, thinking her method of consultation left something to be desired. “But we have breakfast first. I don’t imagine we’ll be making campfires on Wedderburn land, unless we’re pretty sure nobody can see us. So this might be our last hot meal for a while.”
WE MOVED WESTWARD, FOLLOWING HOLLOW’S wee path. After the first challenging climb up the cliff, it traversed a landscape whose hollows still held patches of stubborn snow, printed by the feet of creatures out foraging for what lean pickings they could find. Tiny mountain flowers popped up tentative heads, spots of white or yellow among the rocks. The path was often hard to find. Hollow had told us to look for certain signs: a little pile of white stones, blades of long grass twisted into a loose knot, a row of last autumn’s leaves threaded onto a stick, telling us to go left or right, uphill or down. Here, I felt the constant presence of magic. There were Good Folk everywhere, though they did not show themselves directly.
The weather warmed a little, and the bare hills began to put on a tentative cloak of green. Occasional stands of pine softened the landscape, and in these we heard the songs of birds. At night, as we sat by our meager campfire, there came the hunting cries of wolves. We kept our fires small, mindful of the need to go unseen, at least until we were off Wedderburn land.
We reached the river on the third morning. It was broader than Hollow’s description had suggested, and if there was a ford, clearly it was not in this spot. The waterway wound through a valley whose slopes were thick with alder, birch, and willow. Stony outcrops broke the tree cover here and there. Even so early in the season, with spring’s new growth barely begun, it was hard to see far in any direction.
We halted on the pebbly shore. Tali slipped off her pack; I did the same. Each of us kept watch while the other knelt
to drink; we refilled our waterskins.
“Your friend said cross a wee river,” Tali said. “I suppose this is it. You rest, I’ll look for the ford. Keep under cover.”
I settled myself, with the two bags, half under a row of straggly bushes, and she headed off upstream. Within the space of a few breaths she was out of sight.
I was glad of the opportunity to rest my legs. Pride meant I did not ask Tali for breaks unless I was incapable of going on, and she did not often suggest them. I sat quietly, listening to the conversation of birds in the woods and the gurgling of the water. At times like this it was almost possible to forget what a sad and sorry place Alban was. There were Good Folk somewhere close by, up in the trees or in the great stones that lay along the river valley like pieces tossed aside from a game for giants. I wondered if they might show themselves while Tali was not with me. It was at just such moments, on my other journeys, that a little voice had piped up with Neryn, oh, Neryn, or a small being had raised its head out of the bracken to gaze at me. Perhaps I should leave out an offering for them. We still had a supply of Milla’s waybread, a hard-baked, long-lasting substance that sat heavily in the belly but was welcome at the end of a long day’s walking. I would break off a morsel and put it on a piece of flat bark for them to eat when we were gone.
I was fishing in my bag for the food packet when I heard Tali’s signal—not a shout, but a hooting cry like an owl’s. A warning. I froze. Then came men’s voices and the sudden tramping of booted feet on the stones, closing in fast.
We’d practiced. I had my knife in my hand within the space of a breath. I kicked the bags under the bracken, then crouched still, weapon at the ready.
“That way!” A man ran across the shore, passing without seeing me. Another emerged from the trees, following. They headed in the direction Tali had taken, soon vanishing from view around a massive rock. Had she managed to run and hide after sending that warning call, or was she trapped?