Horn Crown

8

For the third time that horn rang. I believed I could hear, under the edge of its echoing, another sound which was between a bay and a squawl—certainly made by animal. Gruu answered fiercely. He patted first one clawed paw against the earth and then the other, as if he were leashed and wished for release—to be freed to attack in the dark. Gathea took a step forward to rest her hand on the beast’s head. He looked up at her, showing his tongue between his openly displayed teeth in a dire grin.

Though the horn did not sound again, I saw a flash of light through the night, and heard a crackle as if someone had harnessed the power of lightning itself, had fashioned it into a weapon. The dark was so thick that flash came and went before I could catch any sight of what lay about. The flash hit again, and again, as the clamor of what might be a hunting pack drew closer.

I could not see, but I could sense. Whatever had besieged us was now at the back of the circle, cowering with us between it and what coursed through the night, using a weapon of flame, urging forward some hunting “hounds.” So it continued to cower until Gathea took a hand. She faced about. Her wand arose once again as with its tip she wrote upon the air.

Symbols appeared, curved up and down—green those were—and yet blue—as water mingles such shades along the shore of the sea. Out spun the signs, not fading, rather flying as might small birds released to be free. They gathered outside our defense lines to hang in the air.

There was no audible snarl of rage but a sense of burning anger strove to strike us. Then that was gone, as suddenly as if a door had opened and closed. That which had striven to reach us was now shut away from our world.

We heard a rushing in the night which sounded as if a company had divided, one part going to the north, one the south of our defense. Then that, too, was swallowed by silence. I felt an emptiness, through which one could hear the clear, clean rustle of wind across the stand of grass but nothing else. Gruu settled down—this time dropping his head to rest upon one curve of leg. Gathea, her wand still in hand, curled beside him, leaving to me the other side of the fire. The girl pillowed her head on the cat’s shoulder, her eyes closed as if she—and we— had nothing more to fear. Still I sat, reliving all that had happened this night. It seemed to me that when I had staggered out of Garn’s dale—no, even before that, when I had first looked upon the Moon Shrine—my life had be gun to change; I was no longer the same Elron who had ridden through the Gate, liegeman to a clan lord, knowing nothing much beyond the duties of my place and the security of my standing with my fellows.

I should have been stricken more deeply by Lord Garn’s blow, which had not only marked my body but had cut me off from all the clan. Now that act appeared of little consequence. I had come not only into a country that those of my blood had no knowledge of, but there was a part of me which said: See, I am kinless, yet I am not a nothing; I have walked with danger and faced squarely that beyond reckoning.

Yet no skill of mine had saved us. That, too, I must face. Gathea’s talent had come again and again to stand between both of us and disaster. Such an admission was not a pleasant thing—or an easy one—for me to face honestly.

Perhaps my discomfort arose because I was used only to the women of the keeps—the clan maidens whose skills were in the ways of common living which I knew instinctively that Gathea scorned. She was unlike any maid I had ever known, as I had realized since our first meeting by the sea. One could not say to her: This is not your battle, let me stand forth to defend you as is the rightful custom. I knew a kind of shame because I knew I did not want to grant all due her or admit that in our journey so far she had borne the brunt of action.

Gathea’s desire to reach the west, the hint that she had given me that Iynne had somehow intervened between her and what was rightfully hers, power connected with the Moon Shrine, that I now accepted. Much in this land one must accept blindly, even though it was beyond all man’s experience, perhaps even a Bard’s tale.

I wondered what hunter had moved in the dark out there to bring us aid. Had he answered Gathea’s summons? Or was he already a field seeking that evil which had crawled about our camp? Man, I felt, he was not. Why did I even think “he,” save that my training said that the chase as well as battle were for my sex alone? He or it—

Such things I thought—or tried to arrange in some pattern—as I fed the fire, though I had to let it die a little for lack of fuel. I kept watch because those thoughts so troubled me, and I played ever with the hilt of my sword, for the solid feel of that gave me a sense of linkage to that other me who had been so sure and certain, before this land of many mysteries had engulfed our people. How much time passed I do not know. The sky remained heavily clouded, though no rain fell nor storm arose. There was not even one of those strange stars to be sighted. We had our small fire and the circle. Beyond that lay a thick darkness without a break—curtaining us securely in.

I heard a soft sound and glanced at the girl and the cat. Grm’s eyes were open, regarding me in his searching, weighing manner. Then he blinked, turned to look once more into the dark. Thus it came to me that the beast was signaling in his own manner that he would now take sentry duty, leaving me to rest.

So I stretched out, though I kept my sword bared, the hilt under my hand, using twists of grass which we had brought for kindling for a pillow. The bandages I had worn over my wound seemed tight and the skin beneath them itched. Sleep came in spite of that minor discomfort. I awoke as if I had been called. Yet I did not know who did the summoning, for Gathea still lay with her head pillowed against Gruu, and the beast’s eyes were open, watching. Our fire had burned away, but its light was no longer needed. The lighter gray of predawn let me see, as I sat up, what lay immediately about.

There was movement out there in the grass, grazing animals. The deer made lighter patches against the growth on which they fed. Farther yet from them larger beasts also fed, none approaching us. I got to my feet, sheathing my sword. Curiosity now stirred in me. I wanted to see what tracks whatever had besieged us might have left, so I might guess at its nature. Also—I wanted to know if the hunter in turn had left any readable sign of his passing.

I went to that star point where my belt knife still stood and pulled it free, wiping the blade on a wisp of grass before returning it to the sheath at my side. Then I stepped out boldly beyond the protection Gathea had woven, to look around.

There was a dark mass some strides distant, toward which I first turned—lumps of earth, moist enough so they clung together after a fashion, but not enough to give the heap any true shape. I stirred the mass cautiously with the toe of my boot and the lumps shifted, breaking apart. This must be what was left of that earthen image which Gathea had called up to fool the attacking evil. Nothing but earth; I could not understand how it had been given not only shape, but semblance of life. What had she said? That Blood was life. There was our familiar ceremony of the first fall hunt when a certain portion of the kill was hung in the open to drip and dry and remained untouched save by the birds—an ancient rite of offering we of the here and now no longer understood.

I squatted near that mound of earth, searching the ground about for tracks. There were several indentations that I measured with a forefinger as I tried to imagine what manner of thing had left them. I thought I had seen cither a claw or a withered hand attempt to reach us over the barrier last night. The clearest of those prints was more like that of a claw, if such a foot or fore appendage possessed five distinct toes.

Also I believed that it had gone on two feet. The creature must have been of considerable size, for not only was that print larger than the hand I stretched just above it, but it was deep pressed into the earth. I followed the trail and found here and there enough other prints to assure me that the thing or things (for I could not tell whether this sign was left by one or more) had indeed encircled our camp.

Now I cast farther out, seeking any track left by those others—the hunter and his pack. Of those there were no traces, even though many stretches of bare earth lay in the direction from which that horn had sounded.

So puzzled was I by that lack of trail, that I continued farther and farther away from our campsite, searching the ground. Thus I came upon an unsavory thing. Insects, even this early in the day, had found and were buzzing about what looked to be a bloody lump of flesh. I stooped close enough to see that what lay there was part of a clawed appendage such as I had seen in the firelight. There were only two of the long claws still attached, as if the thing had been badly mangled, and both ended in talons as sharply pointed as my knife. The remains of the covering skin were a yellow-white and shriveled. I disliked the sight of it so much that I tore loose a clump of grass, planting its roots and earth on top of the trophy. It would seem that our hunter had had some luck in his sport after all.

“Elron!”

Gathea waved to me and I went gladly enough— pleased that I need no longer force myself to go hunting other traces. Nor did I mention my find when I reached our campsite to discover she had already started upon a meal, including some of the cold meat from the night before, and had set out my wallet for me to do likewise. As usual she had little to say. I wanted to choose among many questions—for to reveal my own ignorance irked me more and more. If she had knowledge which was of value to us, I reasoned, then she should share it without my constant probing.

Thus I waited, chewing irritation along with my food. The supplies Zabina had given me were fast being exhausted. I trusted that the herds on this wide valley land would continue to provide us food, though it might be well if we halted long enough after some kills to smoke meat for future use. There must be water nearby and that was even more important than meat. Perhaps Gathea was also preoccupied by such practical matters.

She lifted her head to stare out along the deep grass until a furred head arose into sight—Gruu, licking his lips, a long green feather caught upon his ruff as if he had varied his dining this morning. The girl and cat met eye to eye in an exchange I could not share. Gruu began to trot away in a general line more to the north as Gathea caught up her wallet, taking also the wand from the night before.

“There is water—that way—” She broke silence for the first time as I fell in, a little behind her, she trailing the cat. Here the grass grew near waist high, hiding most of Gruu, so we marked his passing mainly by the wild waving of that cover. There were birds in the air. I watched those warily. Could that claw-foot-hand have come from a winged thing? I was sure that our besiegers had indeed covered the ground by limited attempts at flight when they had closed in on us last night. Also there were those other unwholesome black creatures which had caused trouble in Gam’s dale and which might well lair or nest near here.

But those I saw in the sky here were true birds, drab of color. They appeared intent on circling above the grazing beasts. Perhaps they fed on insects which the trampling of the herds disturbed from the grass. The way Gruu took suddenly became a real trail, deep slotted and marked with hoofprints—undoubtedly a much used way to water. This footing was rough but we were no longer whipped by the grass, some blades of which had edges sharp enough to cut the skin. It was not long until we came to the top of a steep walled declivity in which ran a stream of river size, the mid-current of which, judged by ripples, flowed quite swiftly. This flow probably originated in those heights which hedged the western sky, and it swirled with a lacing of foam around rocks.

We descended cautiously to make good use of the abundance of water. I left Gathea with Gruu. by a clump of brushes, going downstream to a stand of rocks jutting out into the water. There I stripped eagerly, splashing the water over my body. The bandage about my head grew wet and I dragged it off, touching my cheek and forehead gingerly, though I was sure that much of the swelling had gone and my wound was well on the way to healing. I washed and wrung out the bandage, being prudent enough to roll it carefully, certain that in this land it might prove to have future value.

Gathea greeted me upon my return with a slight frown and a demand to let her see the cut upon my head. Having surveyed that searchingly, she admitted it was now closed and healing so I might go without a cover over it. She had made a change in her own appearance, for her hair, still wet in spite of what must have been valiant efforts to wring and toss it dry, hung in a long, lank tail down her back, and she had bound it back with a bit of leather thong.

We would have liked to have used the stream bank as our path but the waters were swollen enough to wash the banks high, sending us climbing back to the grasslands above. However we did then parallel our march along the cut in which it ran.

Gruu, having led us to water, drunk his own fill, disappeared. I was certain that my companion had some means of communicating with the cat even at a distance and could summon him at need.

Those clouds which had masked the moon and stars from us last night had not been much dispelled by the sun which had arisen, only to be visited with a lowering mist which hid all at a distance in a haze. The herds kept well out on the grasslands. Perhaps they had their regular time of day for seeking water, for none approached as we tramped through what looked like a wilderness country. But I had learned ever to be on guard here.

I noticed that Gathea still carried her wand, holding it in her left hand as if it were as important to her as my sword was to me, even though it was only a straight branch cut from a thicket. At length the continued silence between us grew as oppressive as the day under those clouds, and I broke my resolution to leave any communication to her to ask:

“That which bayed at us in the camp—that which hunted—you have heard of their like before?”

She shook her head, a single sharp jerk. “I do not know what either was—only that the nature of one was of the Dark. Thus it could be met by those devices which are a protection against evil. Of the hunter—” she paused so long that I thought she would not continue before she said: “Perhaps it was also of the Dark, but it was no friend to that which stove to reach us. Its nature—that I could not read. We deal with both Light and Dark, but there may be those in this country that are neither, or that can be both at will. I know—so little!” There was unhappiness in her voice. I wondered if she meant her words for me at all or if they were only a cry against her own lack.

“Oh, I have a measure of the talent,” she added, “otherwise I would not have been trained from first childhood by Zabina. Like knows like even if one looks upon a babe in the cradle. Also I know that I have in me more than Zabina can bring to flower or fruit. I learned of her in the same way that you, you know yourself to be a swordsman, were once put to fence with wooden blade among the younger boys. She has called me impatient, a fool, and foreseen dire disaster for me because I push and push to know more. But the moment I came through the Gate—then it was as if I had set foot on a homeward path which I did not know before could exist—there lay ready to my hand such wonders as those of Zabina’s craft have only touched upon in dreams! This,” Gathea flung forth her arms wide, on her face a fierce pride and hunger, “this is a place which I have dreamed of though I knew it not. I went to that moon shrine for the first time as if I had walked its path all my days. What was there welcomed me as daughter and handmaiden. Therefore,” and the fierceness of her voice matched her look, “can you not see what your dainty keep maid has robbed me of? She, who has none of the talent in her—or else it is far buried under training of custom and of House— reaped where I was meant to harvest! Much good shall it do her!”

“You have spoken in riddles all along,” I returned with matching sharpness. “What has happened to the Lady Iynne?”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, for she always kept a stride or so in advance, as if impatient. Around her sun-browned face there were loose tendrils of hair which had dried and now blew free, giving her a less severe and remote look.

“A gate of sorts opened.” Her reply was tense. “Oh, not into another world, like that Gate which brought us here. Rather it is a way of finding another and more powerful shrine elsewhere—in the west—for the places of power left here are largely emptied, or whatever once filled them is much enfeebled and drained. To the Moon Shrine I brought knowledge which was a key, but the lock was old, it had not been turned for perhaps hundreds of seasons. I worked the ritual—I called down the Moon—I—” She raised her free hand and laid it between her breasts. “I did this! Then I was delayed on the night when there should be an answer and your reckless lady walked in where she should have feared to set so much as the toe of her slipper. Thus she gained, and I lost—”

I thought of Lady Iynne caught in some trap—for it must seem so to her—ensorcelled in a distant place. Though how she might have been so transported I still did not understand. Fear must have caught her—it might be enough to strike her wits from her. Realizing this I turned on the girl with me.

“You knew that she was visiting the shrine, still you did not warn her!” I accused.

“Warn her? But I did! Only there are calls against which no warning will hold unless the hearer is so trained, so staunch in spirit, that he or she is armed and armored. Iynne is a woman, a maid, so she, as all of the clan folk, was and is Moon’s daughter. Moon magic rises in all women, though most deny it. Or, feeling it, do not understand that one must work with it and not against it, She has been so sheltered, so bound about by all the shall nots and do nots of a keep that she answered that call in spite of herself every time she stole away to look upon that shrine. You might have kept her in bonds, by door locks, but the quest already worked in her and her first visit there locked her in its power.”

I glanced about at that wide plain of the valley, at the hills beyond which were hidden now by mists, so that now and then a dark bit of them loomed against the sky, only to be hidden once again.

“You believe you can find her.” I did not make a question of that, for I was sure that she thought she could.

“Yes. For it is my magic that she dabbled in and—look you!”

She paused then, turning to face the north. On her out-held palm lay balanced the wand, and she stared at it with a tense concentration there was no mistaking. I looked from her fixed eyes to the wand and then I saw—

That tree branch, lying on her flattened palm where in no way she could control it by some trick of hand, began to move. It had pointed north and south, now it swung slowly but unmistakingly so that the narrow tip of the wood length indicated the misty heights westward.

“You see!” she demanded. “That which I summoned and worked so hard to gain has grown within me. It pulls me on, so that I may be truly whole as I was meant to be! Where I go—there will she be.”

I had seen her do so much, I did not doubt she believed entirely in what she said. Perhaps this was no different from the other strange things in this land—that I should follow a maid who was certain she sought high magic, and that it had the strength, not only to call her, but to take another to it.

We found no traces of any other powers within that valley, only the herds of animals which kept their distance. It took us two days to cross that expanse and each night we cleared a patch of earth for Gathea to make a safe camp with circle and star. There were no visitors out of the dark. On the second night the moon was clear, the clouds were gone. Gathea had stood then in the full light of silver glow and sang—though I could neither understand the words nor remember them after. Between us an unseen wall grew thicker. This was no place for mo, a man and a warrior; I was her companion on the trail by sufferance only.

At midmorning of the third day we entered the foothills of the heights. Now Gathea picked her way slowly with halts to allow her wand to point the way. There was no mistaking its swing, enticing us on into a broken country where the tall grass disappeared and outcrops of stone, gray, sometimes veined with dull red or a faint yellow, were more common. Though we had left the river behind us as its source lay farther north, we discovered mountain springs—or rather Gruu nosed them out, just as he hunted and we ate of his kills. I began to feel that we had traveled for seasons across land which was barren of any but animal life.

Now we discovered a valley leading back into the hills where there was more vegetation, stands of dark trees, which I thought curiously stunted and misshapen and which I did not like the look of. That night when we camped Gathea was so alive with excitement that she could not sit still. Time and time again she was on her feet, staring up that valley way, muttering to herself, slipping the wand back and forth through her fingers, as if to remind herself of what must be accomplished soon. Gruu, too, was uneasy, pacing around the fire, his eyes turned in the same direction as the girl’s, as if he searched for a possible source of trouble.

“Feel it!” Gathea threw back her head. She had not bound her hair in the tight braids again since we had left the river; now I witnessed a strange thing. Those loose tendrils about her face lifted of themselves, not blown by any breeze (here the air was heavy and weighed upon me). Perhaps it was otherwise for Gathea, as, in turn, the ends of her longer strands of hair stirred also, as if her whole body soaked up some force which then manifested itself so.

She held out the wand, and, I will swear the Blood Oath of the Flame, I saw upon its tip a star of light dance for an instant.

“Here—I am here!” She shouted as if standing before a deep gate where she had every reason to call for entrance and could not be denied.

Then—

Gathea began to run. So startled was I that, for a moment or so, I did not move. Then I caught up our two wallets, for she had dropped hers, and started after her. Gruu had bounded ahead, a silver streak, weaving a path among the trees where she had already vanished. Into the night I pounded after, though it appeared that, though I tried to keep directly on Gathea’s track, I had not chosen well. Trees’ low branches made me duck and swerve (they had not obstructed the progress of those other two). I ran into one trunk which I had not seen even a moment earlier, nearly stunning myself, and bringing a fresh ache to the old head wound.

Branches caught at me, tripped me up, struck me hard blows, until, afraid to lose Gathea in this place and never to find her again, I had out my sword, slashed and cut to clear the way as best I could.

The crash of my own passing covered any other sounds. In truth, I was afraid to stop and listen for fear I would be left so far behind I might never catch up with her.

There were things roosting or living in those trees which added raucous squeakings and hootings to the disturbance I made. Twice something flew directly into my face, once scoring my bruised cheek with either bill or talons. I tried to protect my face with my arm as I chopped a path. Sweat flowed down my face, plastered my too-well-worn undershirt to my body. It was stifling under those trees and I gasped for breath, yet I fought on.

A fight it was. I began to believe that these trees possessed an awareness of who and what I was and were determined to prevent my invasion. I fancied I heard faint cries, as from a distant battle. I was near overcome by the heat and my own exertions. Still I kept on because something in me took command and sent me forward, until at length I stumbled up a last hard slope, nearly losing my balance, breaking past the last thorn-studded limb of a tree into the open.