“Why would anyone want to? The Kathkari Mountains are even more treacherous than the Wyrwood!”
“Some think the Shee themselves are part of the reason why. They drifted away from the other peoples of Alkyra during the ages of prosperity, and all contact with them was lost when the last of Kire’s line died in the fall of Eirith. But they are a proud people, and perhaps they prefer it that way.”
Alethia nodded absently. “Are we near the river?” she asked abruptly.
“No,” Tamsin replied, puzzled. “We are half a day’s ride north of it, perhaps more. Why?”
“I have never seen mist linger so late in the day, except near water,” Alethia said. She pointed at a dense gray fog which was coiling about Starbrow’s hooves.
Tamsin sucked in his breath. “I fear this is no natural mist, but perhaps we can yet escape it. Come Starbrow! Show your paces!”
The great chestnut leapt forward, but his burst of speed was brief. In a short time the fog had risen up around the travelers, and they were forced to slow to a crawl to avoid running into trees. Alethia could barely make out Starbrow’s ears, so dense was the mist. It was quiet, too; a dead quiet, the quiet of snow falling straight down and muffling the noise of the world, but not so friendly. The birds and smaller animals of the forest no longer sang and rustled the leaves as the travelers passed.
Alethia felt detached. The world receded, melting into the shifting gray clouds around her, muffled in a great gray blanket. She felt herself falling, but even that was far away, outside of the place where she herself was. Then, small and clear, like a picture at the bottom of a deep glass, she saw the Lithmern leader, bending in concentration over a strange symbol wrought in iron, and murmuring unfamiliar words under his breath.
Just for an instant the sight held; then she recoiled and the vision passed. As it faded, she brushed the edge of something dark and greedy, and knew that it sought her. She started in fright, and the physical movement brought her back to herself. Alethia drew a deep breath, shuddered, and opened her eyes to see Tamsin’s concerned face bending over her.
“Here, drink,” he said, holding the water bottle out to her. Gratefully she accepted. After a few swallows, she felt more like herself. Tamsin watched her carefully as she drank, and reached for the bottle as soon as she finished. The gray fog was as thick as ever; Tamsin had wound Starbrow’s rein about his arm to avoid losing the animal. Alethia looked at him inquiringly.
“You slipped off of Starbrow so quietly I almost lost you, and I could not wake you,” the minstrel said, answering her unspoken question. “What happened?”
“I am not sure,” Alethia replied. “Everything was so far away and quiet. Then I saw that Lithmern with the shadow-face, and something was looking for me…” Her voice trailed off, and she shivered. “I do not understand at all,” she said in a strained voice.
Tamsin was watching her with wonder. “Lady of Brenn, I do not know what else you are, but that you are more than you seem I am sure. I think I begin to see why these Lithmern are so anxious to capture you,” he said. “We had better continue, and quickly.” He helped Alethia rise and once more assisted her in mounting.
As Tamsin swung onto the horse behind her, Alethia said, “You seem remarkably unshaken by these strange happenings.”
“Magic and music are brother and sister,” he replied as Starbrow picked his way through the fog. “The bard’s craft has always been half magic; in times past minstrels and magicians were often one and the same. Perhaps it is because we must sing so frequently of the old days and the magic of them that we do not fear strangeness as do other men.”
Alethia started to reply, then stopped abruptly as the dense fog suddenly dissolved. Starbrow stopped and tossed his head. Tamsin cursed under his breath. They stood at the center of a circle of grinning Lithmern with drawn swords. Facing them, his whole bearing one of triumph, stood the cloaked leader. “Ah, two fish instead of one! I am indebted to you, mistress Alethia.”
Chapter 5
AS ALETHIA STARED AT the Lithmern circle in dismay, she felt Tamsin’s warning hand on her arm. She stifled the angry response that rose automatically to her lips; instead, she slipped her hand under her sash to the dagger she had taken from the sleeping Lithmern. The touch of the weapon was reassuring. She felt Tamsin shift in the saddle behind her, and heard him say mildly, “Two fish can often escape a net that in times past held many more.”
“I think not, minstrel. We have you fast,” the captain replied.
Burning at the satisfaction in his voice, Alethia leaned forward on Starbrow’s neck and said sweetly, “Nonetheless, perhaps we two together may do better than myself alone, captain. I hope your men had a nice nap? They seemed so tired when I left them.” She smiled to herself a little wickedly at the chagrin on the dark faces, and heard a low chuckle from Tamsin. Then she felt him stiffen as the Lithmern circle closed in around them.
Alethia leaned forward and pulled her dagger free. She heard steel ring as Tamsin’s sword came out of its sheath, but her attention was concentrated on the grinning circle tightening around them. So intent was she that she almost missed seeing the captain draw out the twisted piece of iron she had seen or dreamed earlier.
The Lithmern leader raised his hands with a commanding gesture and hissed four words. The iron piece he held aloft began to glow with a dull red light. As it did, a heavy darkness clamped itself over Alethia, and she felt Tamsin sway in the saddle behind her. Dimly she watched the Lithmern walking toward them, their captain standing behind with the iron talisman blazing dark fire in his gloved hands. Desperately, Alethia raised one leaden arm. With the last of her strength, she threw her dagger at the Lithmern captain.
The missile struck in the center of the captain’s chest, just below the upraised arms. Black smoke puffed from the neck of his cloak and he made a brief clutching motion, then collapsed to the ground. The flame of the iron object died as it fell from the limp gloves, and suddenly Alethia and Tamsin could see clearly again.
The remaining Lithmern were fleeing in terror, and for a moment Alethia thought that they had seen their leader’s collapse. Then one of the running warriors fell, a slender wooden shaft sprouting from his back. One of the men reached the horses, but the frightened animals would not allow him to mount. Another arrow found him, and he, too, fell.
More arrows came singing out of the trees around them, and suddenly the clearing was empty of Lithmern, except for the four silent forms of Lithmern who had not reacted quickly enough. In another instant Starbrow was surrounded once more, this time by the archers who were pursuing the fleeing Lithmern.
They were only about four and a half feet high; the tallest would barely have reached Alethia’s shoulder. Their eyes were bright in small, delicately boned faces that seemed vaguely cat-like. They wore tunics of dark green, loosely belted at the waist. Where arms and legs emerged from the coarse material, they were covered by a dark brown fur, which grew more thinly on face and hands and longer and thicker over their heads. From this mane emerged two ears, shaped like a fox’s but with inch-long tufts of hair at their tips. Alethia’s eyes widened. Behind her she heard Tamsin’s low whistle. “Wyrds!” he breathed in awe.
One of the archers turned aside and scrutinized the two for a moment. Apparently satisfied, he raised his head and gave a piping cry. His fellows stopped, and each jumped for the nearest tree. In seconds, they had all vanished as if they had never been.
The remaining archer slung his bow over his shoulder and walked over to Starbrow. He touched the animal’s nose lightly, then turned. Without glancing back, he headed northward into the trees. The horse followed; Tamsin’s surreptitious tightening of the reins had no effect whatsoever.
Alethia and Tamsin rode in silence. Both were acutely conscious of the eerie reputation of the Wyrwood and its denizens, and neither wished to antagonize their strange rescuers.
They traveled for nearly an hour and a half. Finally their guide halted in a glade that, t
o Alethia, looked exactly like every other glade they had passed through in the forest. Starbrow stopped beside the Wyrd, snorting gently. As Alethia and Tamsin looked at each other uncertainly, the Wyrd gave another high, piping call.
Almost instantly Starbrow was the center of a solemn circle of curious brown eyes. Alethia found herself uncomfortably aware of the long slender bow each Wyrd carried, and the quiver of arrows strapped conveniently to every back.
One of the Wyrds stepped forward and bowed profoundly. “Welcome to the Wyrwood. I am Grathwol, Arkon of the Wyrds of Glen Wilding,” he said in their own language, in a voice that was not altogether friendly.
Alethia slid to the ground, wincing as her bare, bruised feet landed. As Tamsin dismounted, she curtsied as best she could and said, “Thank you for your welcome, sir, and for your help. Your rescue was most timely.”
Grathwol’s eyes flickered from Alethia to Tamsin. “I am glad you found it so. Therefore you will forgive my desire to know whom we have rescued and what business brought you to the Wyrwood.”
Tamsin made one of his theatrical bows. “I am a minstrel and my name is Tamsin Lerrol; this is the Lady Alethia Tel’anh of Brenn.”
The circle of Wyrds stirred for the first time, a brief rustle that could have been astonishment. Grathwol’s eyes snapped back to Alethia, and he studied her narrowly for a moment. Alethia lifted her chin and stared back. The Wyrd laughed. “I see. Forgive my discourtesy; it has been a long time since we have had such visitors at Glen Wilding.”
He gestured, and all but two of the green-clad Wyrds vanished into the trees. One of the remaining Wyrds, a girl of indeterminate age, came over to stand beside Grathwol; the other took Starbrow’s bridle in hand and started to lead him away. Tamsin made half a gesture of protest. Grathwol smiled, showing pointed teeth.
“You need not fear for your horse, minstrel,” the Arkon said. “Nor for yourself or your companion. Those who come from the Hall of Tears have always been welcome among us, and we have been watching for Mistress Alethia since yester eve.”
“Watching for me?” Alethia said with a trace of alarm. “Why?”
“We are not totally without knowledge of things beyond our forests,” Grathwol said evasively. He paused a moment, studying Alethia, then nodded slightly to himself. “I think perhaps we owe you an apology.”
“I have never heard that it was customary among Wyrds to apologize for saving someone’s life,” Alethia said. Tamsin shot her a warning look, but the Wyrds both smiled.
“It is not for rescuing you that we apologize,” the girl said, “but for being so long about it. We did not discover until this morning that the Lithmern had found a way to hide their clumsy blunderings about our woods.”
“They have grown powerful indeed to dare a crossing of the Wyrwood,” Grathwol growled. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten Alethia and Tamsin; then he looked back at them. “We can speak more of this later. My daughter, Murn, will guide you while you remain in Glen Wilding; I will return to hear your stories and answer your questions after you have refreshed yourselves.”
Grathwol bowed, then turned and disappeared among the trees. Murn, however, remained. She eyed the two humans critically. “I think you will want to wash first,” she said. “This way.”
Tamsin and Alethia looked at each other. Alethia shrugged. There was no real reason not to follow; if the Wyrds wanted to harm them, there was very little Tamsin or Alethia could do to prevent them. Warily, Alethia limped after Murn. A moment later she heard twigs crackling behind her as Tamsin moved to follow her. Murn was nearly out of sight; Alethia was certain she would lose her entirely in another minute.
The Wyrd woman glanced back. Her frown changed to concern when she saw the way Alethia was moving, and she shook her head and made a faint growling noise. Then she gave another of the piping calls and said, “Someone will bring sandals for you in a moment. You should have told us you were in difficulties.”
“There hasn’t been a good opportunity,” Alethia said.
To her surprise, Murn chuckled. “I suppose not. Ah, here is your footgear.”
A small Wyrd darted out of the trees and, with a shy smile, handed Alethia a pair of leather sandals lined with fur. Alethia put them on and stammered her thanks, which Murn relayed—“Tris does not speak your language,” she explained. The young Wyrd smiled and bobbed her head awkwardly, then vanished among the trees, and the rest started off once more.
Murn led them down a narrow, barely visible path to a small brook. She waited while they rinsed the dust from their faces and hands, then brought them to another clearing. A meal of fruits, dark bread, and round cheese had been laid out on a cloth spread on the ground. Alethia and Tamsin seated themselves, and Murn poured a somewhat bitter wine into carved cups. Several times during the meal Tamsin tried to question her, but Murn only laughed and shook her head.
“Father will answer your questions when he is ready,” was all she would tell them.
When they had finished eating, the Wyrd girl rose. “Now I will show you…” Murn stopped in mid-sentence, listening. A moment later, Grathwol appeared. The Arkon of Glen Wilding was frowning, and he carried a strange-looking, squirrel-like animal about the size of a large cat. He handed the animal to Murn with a few words in an unfamiliar language. Murn’s eyes grew wide, and she nodded. She accepted the animal and disappeared among the trees. Grathwol turned to Alethia and Tamsin.
“I apologize for this interruption,” he said. “The mirrimur has brought disturbing news. I fear you may not be safe here.”
“But the Lithmern are gone, aren’t they?” Alethia said. “And surely they wouldn’t try to attack Wyrds!”
“It is not swords I fear, but magic,” Grathwol said. “The Lithmern have discovered… an important artifact. It was found in the clearing where we rescued you. They may have others as well.”
“Do you mean that queer iron thing that Lithmern captain had?” Alethia asked.
“Yes,” replied Grathwol with a sharp look at the girl. “They are bringing it to Glen Wilding now. What do you know of it?”
Quickly Alethia told him of her encounters with the captain. She finished with, “I am afraid that is all I can tell you. What is this thing?”
“It is a Talisman—ancient beyond imagining, and it has great power, if it can be unlocked,” Grathwol replied.
“And you are certain the Lithmern know how to use it?” Tamsin said.
“There is no other way the Lithmern could have traveled so far so quickly,” Grathwol said. “And how else did they hide their trail from us, and defeat our warding spells?” He gave Alethia another long, speculative look. “You must be of great value for the Lithmern to send a wielder of such power to capture you, Alethia. They would not risk the loss of such a prize, save for one of at least equal importance.”
“Why would the Lithmern care about the daughter of minor Alkyran noble?” Tamsin asked.
“That, I do not know,” Grathwol said. “Nor is it likely to be an easy thing to learn. Even if we catch one of the Lithmern who kidnapped Alethia, I doubt we will learn much from common warriors. And I do not think the Lithmern will send another party through the Wyrwood soon for us to question.”
“Then you can protect Lady Alethia!” Tamsin said with relief.
“Now that we are warned, I do not think the Lithmern could slip past us again,” said Grathwol. “But she is not safe here.”
“I thought you just said that if Lady Alethia stays here, she won’t have to worry about Lithmern,” Tamsin said.
“I am more worried about getting home than I am about Lithmern,” Alethia said. “Particularly if there aren’t going to be any of them around for a while.”
Grathwol examined Alethia for a long moment. “I will send a group of bowmen to escort you to Brenn, if you wish it,” he said slowly. “I think you would arrive safely; but the city has no defense against one of the Talismans of Noron’ri.”
“You seem to have some other c
ourse in mind,” Alethia said thoughtfully. “Just what would you recommend?”
Grathwol smiled. “I do not wish to keep the Talisman in Glen Wilding any longer than I must. Tomorrow I will send it to Eveleth; I suggest that you go with it.”
“Eveleth!” Tamsin said under his breath, so softly that Alethia almost missed the word. Grathwol smiled again.
“You may accompany Mistress Alethia, minstrel, if you desire it.”
Tamsin flushed slightly. “Why are you sending the Talisman away?” he asked a little hastily. “Is it not as valuable to you as to the Lithmern?”
“It is not our manner of magic,” Grathwol replied. “The Shee will know better how to deal with it.”
“I really don’t think I should—” Alethia started, but Grathwol interrupted with a shake of his head.
“Think on it before you answer; you need not decide now. I will return shortly.” He turned to leave, but Alethia caught at his arm.
“Please, would you send someone to my father to tell him I am safe?” she asked him. “I know you do not like to be seen, but there must be some way.”
“It has already been done,” Grathwol replied. Before Alethia could stammer her thanks, he disappeared among the trees, leaving the two travelers alone in the clearing.
Alethia caught her lower lip between her teeth and frowned. Tamsin stared after the vanished Wyrd. “This appearing and disappearing is a bit disconcerting. I suggest, lady, that we make ourselves comfortable; we seem to have much to discuss.”
Absently, Alethia nodded. “What exactly is a Talisman of Noron’ri?” she asked as she seated herself. “Grathwol never did explain. Do you know?”
“The Talismans are only mentioned in one old lay, and that an unpopular one,” Tamsin said thoughtfully. “Still, I think I can tell you a little.”
Alethia gave an unladylike snort. “I am getting tired of legends that no one has ever seen and songs no one has ever heard of. We seem to be running into such a large number of them!”