The Key of the Keplian

12

From either side of her Tharna and Hylan came then, to walk with her. From their minds she received no fear, only a growing sense of excitement and anticipation. No fear, only the belief that beyond hope they were about to receive a greatly longed-for gift. They reached the edge of the mist and paced slowly down the path the power had carved from it. Deeper and deeper they plunged. Behind them there was no sight of the canyon, only the mist closing in. It felt strange, Eleeri thought. As if she walked in a place that was not quite of this world.

Shadows formed, to vanish as the three came near. Then one came which grew more solid as they closed in. Eleeri strained her eyes but kept to the steady unhurried walk. There was nothing to fear, nor would she show any, for the power might take that as an insult. Beside her the Keplians moved, hooves almost spurning the ground. In them the joyous sense of hope lifted higher. Before them the mist darkened, developing edges, columns, a peaked roof carved with hanging vines and laden with fruit. The mist drew back then as they paused to stare in awe.

A sense of warmth gathered about them, a greeting to friends arrived. The Keplians waited as Eleeri moved; surely the welcome was not for them also, children of shade and shadow? A shaft of the golden mist curled out, drifting to encircle them like a lover’s arms. They were welcome, thrice welcome, let them enter where others of their kind had once stood in friendship with those who dwelled here. Eleeri felt the surge of joy from her friends, and her own mind echoed it. She slowed her pace so that her friends might walk beside her once more.

By now the entire structure was clear, and they halted to study it. Unused to buildings, the Keplians had nothing to compare it with save the Dark Tower and the ancient keep in their canyon. Eleeri had seen far more in reality and in pictures. The building reminded her of the many photographs she had seen of the ruined temples of ancient Greece. It was not one of them, but had the same air—great age and a lost power hung over it. It was built from massive blocks of some warm honey-colored stone. Within the stone, silvery streaks laced the rock—the colors of the mist that had finally parted to let them in, Eleeri noted.

Was this place even here? Could the mist have become solid to show them something which in truth was not there? Her eyes came back to the entrance. She drifted forward to touch the steps. Under her fingers the stone appeared real. She lifted her head. She’d been wondering what lay behind the mist ever since she came to the canyon. Now she would find out and no fear would stay her steps. She trod forward boldly, past a great bronze door cast with detailed images, although she would have loved to stop there, to peer at the tiny perfect scenes she saw out of the corners of her eyes.

Tharna and Hylan flanked her as she entered the great hall. It seemed to stretch forever to her startled gaze. Mist curled and lingered here so that she could not see the walls or far end of the hall. Light shimmered from that mist, brightening as they walked forward. It pooled about two oblong shapes that were raised above the floor on a small dais.

Slowly the three approached. Was this right? Were they called to this place? The welcome grew again: reassurance, friendship. This was very right, let them come forward, let them see and know.

Around Eleeri’s throat the pendant became heavier. Her hands went up to lift it away. As it ceased to touch her flesh, mist gathered there also; the weight fled but before her stood the pendant’s Keplian once more. The perfect stallion, eyes gleaming sapphire in the mist’s light. He reached out to touch noses with each of her companion Keplians and the woman caught the wonder that filled them. Her own hands went out, not to the stallion but to her friends. Minds met with power. Around them light shone brighter and from the dais came a great cry that echoed in their minds.

*Be welcome. Come to us and be welcomed, blood of our blood, children of kin.*

Eleeri allowed her feet to drift forward, up the seven shallow wide steps of the dais, until she could see what lay there within the cradle of the golden stone. The stallion of the pendant, too, had moved. He mounted the steps on the other side of her and reared high. Not a threat, Eleeri noted, more as if he paid homage to those who lay there. She laid one hand on the stone bed, felt the power which ran here. Whoever these had been, they had been Great Ones.

*Ah, for that we thank you, blood of our blood, but none were so great as to be invincible, be they of Light or of Dark.*

Involuntarily she stepped back. They Great Ones were not dead. Unless—unless in this land the dead could still speak? Gentle amusement met that thought. Encouraged, she moved back to look down at the two who lay there as if asleep.

She stared, blinked, and stared again. If you took from them the clothing, the fine jewels, the aura of power that yet lifted about them, the woman looked like—she had seen her own face in a mirror often enough. They might have been mother and daughter. The man, too, looked familiar. She studied the lines on the thin face, the weariness at mouth corners. Ka-dih, but he was Romar! Romar as he might appear worn thin with living and twenty years older. She cried out then.

“Who are you? What do you want of us?”

Pictures came in reply, as if they happened before her eyes. No sounds came, but what she saw gripped her, drew her in so that she stood motionless.

The two before her lived, loved, and laughed in a world that had once been. Lived here in this building of golden stone, loved each other, wed in heart, mind, and body. Laughed with—ah, yes, laughed with their children, a boy and a girl, twins, barely old enough to toddle upright. She saw the enemy their bright happiness made, saw him plot and scheme to bring them down, these kin to the Light he feared and hated. She watched as their lands fell prey to the evil he sent. She saw how at first they would have reasoned with him. They wanted no enemy, no battle, no blood shed on green grass. But it takes one only to begin a war, and war came to them from this enemy adept, steeped in Dark power.

At long last they understood that in this enemy there was no mercy. They turned from laughter to tears, weeping as their friends fell, as those who looked to them for guidance were slain. They created others. Meddled in the stuff of life to find friends who might stand with them. Called on powers and ancient names for aid.

That aid was given. Keplians came to walk with them as friends and companions at need. To fight beside them, to stand against the Dark at the side of Light.

“Then how . . .”

She was shown. Saw the enemy as he crafted an answer. The Keplian had come from power which was neutral, but it could be twisted, changed. This he did, yet what had been created for the Light could not be turned to Dark save by its own will. The race were of the shadow by his evil, but of the Dark by theirs alone. Those who chose differently could turn again to that which had created them.

A surge of emotion shook her. Her friends saw even as she did. Beside her the great black mare knelt on the steps. Her mind was clear: no words, but a cry—need, longing—let them return to the Light!

*Patience, child of kin, patience.*

The pictures swept Eleeri away once more. She saw how the forces of Light failed. Good did not always win, or why would evil strive? She watched as the lord and lady’s forces fell back until the canyon alone was held in safety. That last stronghold would not yield: the enemy knew all his power would not force its gates. But he could starve them out, keep them pent within forever. This he planned, but no plan is safe; it may be known, guessed at. And this was so. In their hall the two sat, their children playing about their feet.

The enemy had not known. One by one, two by two, they had sent those who were loyal away to safety. The Keplians had gone, the humans, the Flannan who shared their home. Even the horses and dogs, the two cats in whose friendship the lady had delighted. The hall was empty now save for the four who sat there. Eleeri was somehow privy to their conversation, but not in words. She simply understood as they decided. The time had come to send the children, then to leave their beloved home themselves. To join friends who were also of the Light.

She saw the rainbow play of power, saw a gateway open and the small boy toddle through. Then something struck. The gate shimmered, twisted, turned aside in dimensions unknown as the tiny girl entered. There was a cry of terror from the lady. Power roared—everything two parents had to save their child. Eleeri caught a glimpse of coast, of waves that hurled themselves in unending battle with the rock. With an almost audible snap her mind recognized the scene. She had been shown photographs more than once. From those who sent her the pictures there was a rising sense of warmth. Yes, yes!

Eleeri allowed it to sink slowly into her mind. Cornwall! That had been the Cornish coast. She understood what they showed her now, and why the path of the gone-before ones had opened to her. But—why had she been called here? Was there a purpose, something she should do?

*Patience. Watch.*

She saw the gate fade, saw the lady slump, weeping into cupped hands, her lord comforting her. The child had lived. She would continue to live even though the world be strange to her. Their son, too, was safe with friends. But the power had gone. They no longer had enough to build another gate for their own escape, or the escape of the great stallion who was brother-kin to the lord and had remained to carry them to safety at need. They conferred. If they could not leave, neither could that enemy which prowled outside enter. Not so long as they lived. This last place they could deny him, though they might not escape.

They chose, all three of them, to keep inviolate the home they had loved. Eleeri watched as they worked power to bind the Keplian into the small image. Something so small would be overlooked. Only when it touched the flesh of one of the blood and kin would it answer. She saw the stallion shrink, saw the lady stoop to mold a lock of mane in her fingers, add the silver loop. Silver, a metal of the Light. Any who found it would know this was no image from the Dark. They used the last of the greater power to send the pendant—somewhere. Then they stood hand in hand.

She felt their sorrow, their pain that all they had loved was gone. They would never see their children grow, never run laughing beneath the hot sun to plunge into cool water. Never blaze across the lower lands on the backs of kin-friends who bore them willingly. Slowly they turned. Power flamed about them; stone answered as they crafted the dais. A long shallow cradle topped it, a bed that might hold the last of those who dwelt here. They lay down. From them power poured upward, curved to meet in a shimmering shield, then faded into nothing. It was there, but unseen.

The enemy came boldly as it faded. He could not enter in power, but he would use the remnants of theirs. Build power again once past the runes. He would use this place as his stronghold now. He saw the dais, marched up the shallow steps, and bent to smirk at those within the cradle. He had won! He laughed, then louder until his mirth rocked the silent hall, echoed oddly from the hangings that still lined the walls. He had won! This land was his to do with as he would. The Light had failed, fallen. The Dark was triumphant. He lifted his hands to a howl of exultation. Then he stooped again. One last thing. He would destroy those two who lay here powerless. He drew on power, smiled, and cast it from him.

It lay over them, but they did not wither from the blast. Its master had turned away, avid to see what he would get from this conquest. His eyes inventoried the tapestries, the furniture. There would be more yet in other rooms. He would have it all. Behind him power moved. He had cast off his own to enter; this was the power left within the walls. He had seized it, tried to make it destroy, but it was not for his using. It gathered, then, as he turned, it struck. He cried out, reeling from the awful blow. Stumbling, staggering, he sought safety, fleeing the anger he had raised.

Beneath him his body crumbled. The two who lay there heard the echoes of his cry, the rage at his defeat. Now only a thin film of dust lay over the floor, veiling the gold of the stones. A small wind arose, lifting it, bearing it forth past the entrance of the canyon, there to disperse it among the hills. A Great One had lost his gamble; the Light was strengthened thereby. But that malice had not died. In another form it would return, ever seeking to destroy.

In the canyon, all was silence. All that could be done had been. Now let them sleep away the years together until release came. Here the Dark could not enter. One day the Light would return—the Light, the kin, and a child of the blood. Until that day they were together; it was enough.

And the story was not quite finished. Eleeri watched as slow time took the tapestries, the delicate fabrics first. Then the wood, powdering, falling into dust, the swords that had hung on the walls slowly changing to rust, sifting to the floor. Only the stone remained. Stone of outer keep and stone of inner place. Faces flashed before her. The two here could not show her her own heritage, although that she could guess. They could show her of Romar—a little. Their son had prospered, wed and bred sons in turn, marrying the daughter of the house that had sheltered him. Other faces, other men, all with that look of the man who lay before her. Daughters, too, of that line, with the look of the lady.

But in the end, all bloodlines fail. She was the last in direct descent of the daughter who had gone strange voyaging. Eleeri felt horror strike at her. They had not forced her life into this pattern?

*It was none of our doing, far-daughter. Your life was always yours to live. We did but open the gate when we felt the call of your spirit.*

“How? I thought your power was all gone.”

The answer flowed through her; tears sprang to her eyes. They had used that which had remained to them. Down the centuries it had kept their bodies intact, their spirits within them, waiting. Sensing her need, they had given all to this, their far-daughter. Even as they spoke, the bodies crumbled slowly, inexorably. Spirits strained to leave. But they had gathered the rags of power, held to await her arrival. Now she was here; she knew.

*Find our far-son, free him, take this land. It goes to those of our blood to be held for the Light. Bring back the kin-friends to that Light also.*

From the woman a question. Warm laughter reached out to surround her.

*Mare, stallion, come forward.* They did so, trembling. *Far-daughter, look now at your kin-sister, your kin-brothers.* Behind them the stallion reared high, hooves silver-shod. The Keplians lifted their heads to watch—and sapphire eyes blazed. Eleeri stared in wonder.

Amusement. *Darkness cannot live where love and Light are.* The voices pealed up in a great cry of triumph. *Behold, the kin-friends have returned to the Light. Our daughter’s blood is come again. Great Ones, let us go now to be at peace.*

Tears flooded down Eleeri’s face. “Don’t go, not yet. I haven’t even had time to know you.”

*To all things there is a time. We have waited so long to be free. Would you bind us still?*

She bowed her head. “No,” she said softly. “No, go in peace and I’ll find Romar. I’ll free him, too; half of this place is his. But”—she looked down at the golden stone—“how can I? I don’t have the sort of power you had.”

Love reached out. *You are our far-daughter; you will find the way. As for friends, two you have here who will fight beside you. Another who will bear you for a little. Beyond this place I think others wait. Accept them, lead them.* A hand lifted to touch her own. *May rich feasting come from this, far-daughter. Food for mind and spirit and heart. Our love to you always.*

The hand slipped away. Both faces smiled at her for an instant. Then the fires blazed up to surround them. They died—to reveal an empty cradle. Eleeri bowed her head and wept silently. Now she was alone.

Two warm noses thrust indignantly at her so that she staggered. Sudden happiness flooded her. No, she was wrong; not alone, never alone. She flung her arms about the mare, then the stallion.

“I know . . . I knew them for such a little time, but I think I’ll always miss them.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Well, life goes on. We have to find Romar, free him, tell him he owns half of all this, and make Mayrin and Jerrany happy.”

She laughed. “A mere nothing. I can do it all tomorrow.”

A hoof struck stone; sparks flickered from that blow so that she stared. Behind the dais the pendant stallion remained, his eyes glowing softly at her. What had they said? Ah, yes. Another who will bear you for a little while. She approached him slowly and his nose came down to touch her enquiring fingers. But when she would have touched his mind, there was only blankness there. She drew back. Surely he could not be evil, not here in this place. Not one who had been kin-friend to the lord and lady?

Denial. She nodded. Then it must be that he simply wished to stand apart.

Agreement. Along with that came a feeling. That he must do this, that they might not share minds in friendship as he, too, would have wished.

She smoothed the tumbled mane. She would trust him. She would not intrude on his thoughts save when he offered them. The mare thrust in beside her, her son at her heels. The pendant stallion moved back. Idly Eleeri wondered if he had a name.

*No longer—call me what you will.*

Eleeri grinned. “Then I name you Pehnane—‘Wasp’ in my tongue. Let us go forth to sting our enemies.”

*Even so, far-kin.*

Hooves followed her as she paced back through the mist. Once again it parted slowly before her, closed in behind. She had gone in knowing so little, been given such a treasure to fill her mind and heart. Would she be able to return, she wondered, or would the place sink now into ruins and dust behind her? She shrugged. What did it matter? The canyon, the keep, they were hers. Let the lord and lady hold the place in the mist. She would not intrude. From her friends she felt approval of that decision. Even Pehnane touched her lightly with agreement. Good. Then that was the way it should be.

She stepped from the last curls of mist and strode over the turf. The Keplian mares and foals parted for her as astonishment exploded in their minds. She whirled to find them staring at Tharna, Hylan, and the magnificent Keplian who followed. Hiding a smile, she left her friends to explain. The day had been exhausting; she would relish a dip in the stream, then food and drink. In the morning she would ride again. They should scout the boundaries of the Gray Ones’ lands, see how far the evil had moved.

But the night brought Romar to her. His eyes more desperate, face more worn, his body lean to the point of gauntness. Hands traced the sign, his voice came to her faintly.

“If you cannot aid me soon, it will be too late.”

“I know where you are,” she said softly. “What I don’t know is how to free you safely. I could not bear to see those I love dead in this attempt.”

“I will tell you of a door. My master—” his face twisted in pain and anger, “plans to move against the Light soon. You could act then.”

“How much attention would it call to us?” Eleeri asked practically. A back door was all very well, but not if it had alarm bells.

“I may be able to turn his attention aside while you enter. He is stronger than I, but his power is not so much greater. That is why he uses me. Once inside, if you attack him and I also strive to be free, it may be that we will succeed.” He said no more, but she understood the thought. If he died in the struggle, he would still be free; it was merely a different path. But what of her? She had no wish to die facing something of the Dark. Yet—yet this was Mayrin’s brother, Jerrany’s friend. Her far-kin—and she had promised the lord and lady she would try.

She gathered all her determination. “Show me all you can.”

He did not speak for a long minute, but the look in his eyes was enough. Then he spoke quietly and swiftly. The door was one unregarded. Once it had been a secret, but to Romar, linked with the Dark mind which used him, knowledge had come. To use can be to let slip secrets as well, and so it had proved. With the right word it would open. Now that word was hers.

Along with it came warnings: she and whoever entered with her would be tested. She must remember that much would be illusion, but perhaps not all. Outside there would be no posted guards, although the Gray Ones roamed the area. Inside the tower there were those who served the Dark. Not all their weapons would be obvious. All the time the sign which hung in the air between them faded. Finally he had given her all he knew.

“It will take power to open,” he warned. “I cannot say how much. Go to Mayrin and Jerrany, beg their aid.” He sighed. “I would not draw them in as I have you, but without help, the Dark grows. I fear for them even if they cannot help.”

Eleeri lifted her hand to trace the sign. “I swear. I will tell them of you, and ask them to ride with me to lend what they have. I have little doubt they will come. Always they have sought you, fearing lest you had been slain.”

She said nothing of the long hours in which she had wrestled with this problem. Mayrin might be slender of body, but that slenderness concealed an iron will. Jerrany was quite simply Romar’s sword-brother as well as his brother-in-law; he would have stormed the Dark Tower on his own were there no other way to free Romar. If she spoke of the man she dreamed, this would happen. Twice she had determined to join forces with them. Each time she had returned to her canyon and seen the foals, she had weakened. How could she risk all she and her friends were building here?

Besides that, over the months there had been long discussions with Tharna, Hylan, and the other Keplians. They had slowly learned the joy of being truly free of fear and cruelty. Now it would please them to teach others, to bring more of their kind into the canyon until they had learned kindness. The adult stallions would be time wasted. But mares and foals could be taught. Was she to dismiss all this to ride to war? She might lose everything they had gained, and win what? A single man. One she had no need of.

In those flickering seconds before she answered Romar, her mind hardened in final decision. To buy a good life at Romar’s expense would be wrong. He was her far-kin. She owed him aid. Her eyes swept over a face grown slowly more dear to her.

If she left Romar to die, she would not be able to live with the decision. In the end, it was as simple as that. If he was rescued, Mayrin and Jerrany would understand her silence and forgive it. If she died, no one would know why she had said nothing for so long. Jerrany at least would understand, if he survived.

The sign faded, wisping into nothingness, and Romar was gone. She stared into the gray, remembering the desperation in his tone. The one who used him must be close to draining everything. Soon Romar would die in body and mind. Before then, she must have summoned help, taken the path to him for freedom or a clean death.

In her sleep her hand clenched savagely. If she could not win him free, she could do that. He should die at her own hands that the evil one might bind him no more. At her hands, death would set his spirit free.

There would be no time for scouting Gray Ones in the morning. With the light she must ride. But first—her mind busily turned over various plans and supplies.

A deeper sleep claimed her then. But always as she drowsed, Romar’s face watched her. Pleading for freedom, hopeful, believing in her. How could she have thought to stand back? This was a warrior. It was for her to ride with him in battle. Here was one who could accept her as she was. Her mouth curved in a smile that made her sleeping face briefly that of a child again. Far-kin, hold on, I am coming!