The Shadow Roads

Six

They did not wait for morning but set out by the light ofthe waning moon, which lit the road faintly and made monsters of tree stumpsand spies of every bush. Above them, a small flight of crows swarmed from treeto tree like a wayward breeze. Alaan set a good pace, as though the shatteredmoon was bright as the morning sun, and the night passed with hardly a wordbetween them. Many times they dismounted and led their horses through shadow,and twice Alaan used a flint to light one of the torches he carried. The smellof burning pitch assailed Tam’s nostrils, but a small province of light spreadaround them. Beyond this, the kingdom of night lay hidden.

“The land between the mountains is behind us now,” Alaansaid quietly, “but we mustn’t relax our guard. Once I’ve opened a pathway itremains open for some time. We could be followed.”

Tam had not asked where they were going, assuming it wasinto the hidden lands, and any destination there would mean nothing to him, butas their horses trotted along the dark road the Valeman pressed his mountforward, drawing up beside Alaan.

“Where is it we go, Alaan?” he asked. “What place could bemore perilous than the places we have been?”

Alaan did not answer right away, but kept his gaze fixed onthe dark ribbon of road. “We go into the borderlands of Death’s kingdom, Tam.A place from which only one man has returned.”

“Who? Who returned from Death’s kingdom?”

“No one who passes through the gate returns, but I went onceinto the borderlands. We will try our luck again.” He glanced up at Tam, hisface ashen in the moonlight. “I will tell you honestly, Tam-Death will notsuffer our presence there. He will send his servants to find us.”

Tam let his horse drop back, falling in behind Alaan. He foundhimself wishing that he’d never left the Vale of Lakes, that he was there stillin the late-summer light, walking through the ripening grain or drawing waterfrom the spring that murmured the names of newborn children-or so it was said.Anywhere but following Alaan to this place he had named.

They carried on by torchlight, stumbling over rock and root,until faint light began to devour the shadows, and the stars overhead snuffedout, one by one. By a small lake, Alaan stopped to water the horses and leteveryone rest. Cynddl kindled fire, and they made a meal as the morning spreadwest across the world.

Alaan had produced enough gold that night to buy them horsesand tack, arms and supplies. No one asked where this wealth had come from. Nannhad given them new bows, and Tam decided to try his, stringing it for the firsttime. Light reflected off the polished grain of the yaka wood, as he nocked anarrow and drew back the string. The sound of an arrow hissed over the grass, followedby a sharp thwack as it lodged in the bark of an old butternut.

“You won’t get that one out Tam,” Cynddl said. “The grainwill be too tight and old.”

“I took care not to shoot it that hard. How is your new bow,Cynddl?”

In a moment there was an archery contest under way, with everyonebut Alaan and Crowheart involved. Tam noticed that Alaan watched over themwithout a hint of a smile, his eyes darting often to the tree line, then alongthe shore of the lake.

He is a wary traveler, Tam thought. And we should take a lessonfrom that.

Cynddl was the best archer that day, though only slightlybetter than Tam. Fynnol came third, but did not seem to mind, as thecompetition was very stiff, and he had acquitted himself well.

“Time to go,” Alaan announced, as Fynnol proposed a rematch.

Their horses had been grazing nearby, and were soon saddledand packed again. As Tam tightened the girth strap on his horse, Fynnol andCynddl came near.

“So what did Alaan say last night?” Fynnol asked quietly. “Didyou ask him where we go?” He stroked the nose of his horse, which he hadpositioned to shield their conversation from Rabal and Alaan.

Tam lengthened one of his stirrups, the worn leather warmand supple in the sun. He realized he did not want to be the bearer of thisnews. “We go into the borderlands of Death’s kingdom, Fynnol.”

Fynnol blinked several times. “But no one returns from Death’skingdom.”

“Alaan said we will not pass through the gate-and that hemade a journey there … once.” Tam hesitated. “Dangerous, but not more so thanother places we’ve been.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but neither of hiscompanions appeared to be reassured.

By the time they set off around the lake and up the slopeinto a shady wood, the morning was advancing. Beyond, Tam thought he could makeout hills, all but obscured by haze.

A whole morning’s toil was needed to break out of the trees.The wood began to thin, then turn to scattered pines and firs. Weatherwornrocks broke through the surface, here and there, like the backs of ancientwhales. And then the tree line was behind them.

They were on the side of a low, rounded mountain, the worldspreading out below.

For a moment, they all stopped to let the horses catch theirbreath. They had traversed the slope back and forth, not attacking it directly,but even so, the climb had been difficult. An empty wind blew at thiselevation, and the only sound was the occasional call of a distant crow.

“Well, Tam,” Fynnol said, breaking the silence, “we set outto trade for horses and look! Did you ever expect to own ones as fine as these?And they were free.”

“Oh, I think you’ve paid dearly for your horses,” Alaan observed.

“Let’s hope the price will not be more than we can afford,”Fynnol answered quickly.

On the shoulder of the mountain, crows seemed to be the onlyanimals. A few were always near at hand, but many more could be seen at adistance, perched on the branches of stunted pines or dotting stacks oflichen-yellowed rocks.

Prince Michael had told Tam that his company had been attackedby an army of crows in the Stillwater, and he’d displayed the scars on his faceand hands to prove it. Tam looked over at Crow-heart sitting on his horse, staringout over the lands below. The horses all seemed to perk up their ears whenCrowheart was near, as though they listened for him to speak. He had a way withanimals, that was certain, speaking to them quietly, calming them with a touchof the hand. Tam only hoped that he had control of his crow army, for theirbills looked fearsome.

A dark bird lit on the branch of a fire bush. Tam caught themovement out of the corner of his eye and thought at first it was another crow.But the nearby crows all took to wing, crying out in alarm. And then Tam heard,whist, whist.

The little bird hissed loudly, but it didn’t seem to bescolding any of them, for it looked pointedly out over the distant lowlands.

Cynddl’s hand shot up. “There!”

Far below, by the small lake where they’d rested, a dozen riderstraversed the open meadow. Fynnol cursed, but Alaan sat impassively on hishorse, his eyes fixed on the riders.

“I feared as much,” he said grimly. “Hafydd has many spies.Some must have been watching the Fael encampment.” He stared for a moment more,then turned his horse but paused before pushing on. “They would catch up withus, now,” he said looking over his shoulder. “There are greater dangersin these lands than Hafydd’s spies. Beyond this mountain is a wide valley thatwe must traverse. There is no way around it. I’d hoped to wait and crossit at first light, but we may be forced to travel by darkness now. Keep yourweapons to hand.” He spurred his horse and set off up the slope.

The whist leapt into the air, circling up, until it became ablack speck in the sky-a fragment of night lodged in the blue.

They hurried on, pressing their tired horses up the mountainsidewhere cliffs, broken and jagged, loomed over them. Tam glanced up from guidinghis horse over the uneven terrain. There was, no doubt, a way among these, orAlaan wouldn’t be leading them on, still he didn’t like their situation. Hetwisted a bit in his saddle, the leather creaking in complaint. The riders werejust disappearing into the trees below, having rounded the lake.

Tam felt a sudden familiar tightening in his stomach. Memoriesof the black guards pursuing them down the Wynnd, of the fight at the ford atWillowwand, of the night Baore was struck by an arrow beneath the north bridge.He pulled a drinking skin from his saddle to put a little moisture back in hismouth, suddenly dry as sand. And what was this Alaan was saying about thevalley beyond?

The base of the cliff was a jumble of broken rock, somepieces larger than barns. Alaan led them among these, never once having todouble back. Tam wondered if he’d been here before, or if this was his arcanesense that found paths where other men couldn’t. Alaan never said that hecreated paths but always that he “found” them. As though they were there allalong but hidden from others.

They were forced to dismount and lead their horses over afield of stone, but only Alaan’s sorrel and the dark bay Crow-heart rode wentalong willingly. Twice Crowheart turned and spoke to Fynnol’s horse when itbalked, and then the gelding followed docilely.

They picked their way among house-sized boulders, crowsgathering now in numbers on the tops and on ledges. The crying of the birds inthe hollow wind added a sense of urgency, andTam hurried on, feeling aprickling on the back of his neck, as though the men behind were gaining-withinarrow range.

Don’t be a fool, he told himself, they will takesome time to climb that hill, even if they don’t spare their horses, as we did,and go straight up.

He wondered who these men were. Certainly it was Alaan theywere following. Did they know he was a sorcerer? Surely they must. Did this notintimidate them at all, or had Hafydd taught them ways to deal with Alaan?

Of course Tam still had no idea of what these children ofWyrr were capable. Hafydd had revealed himself a little in the Stillwater, butAlaan was still a mystery. He could travel paths no one had ever seen intolands unknown. He was a formidable swordsman and far stronger than he appeared,Tam was sure. But could he match Hafydd’s control of fire? Or Elise’s apparentcommand of water? Tam hoped there was more to Alaan than he’d revealed so far.They would have need of all the arcane knowledge they could find to fightHafydd, he was sure of that.

Almost at the base of the cliff, Fynnol called out to Alaan,pointing up. There, silhouetted against a quickly clouding sky, stood a man. Tamblinked once, and when he opened his eyes, the man was gone. Alaan cursed, butwent on, offering no explanation.

Tam felt his anxiety increase dramatically. Who had thatbeen atop the cliff? Alaan did not seem pleased, whoever it was. Tam loosenedhis sword in its scabbard and pressed on, his eye flitting over the landscapeas though the very rocks threatened them.

Their efforts brought them to the foot of a narrow draw thatwound up through a deep cleft in the broken cliff. A game path clawed up the steepdraw, meandering from one side to the other, and Alaan urged his horse up this.

“Tam,” the traveler called, looking back once, his face disturbinglyapprehensive. “Give your horse to someone. Take a bow and follow behind. Weneed a rear guard.”

Tam took a bow and quiver and gave the reins of his horse toCrowheart, who was already leading his own mount and a pack-horse. Rabal made aquick string of his charges and set off after Alaan, Fynnol close behind.Cynddl took his own bow and quiver from his saddle and placed himself justahead of Tam, where he kept looking back warily. Tam could see sweat on thestory finder’s brow, his gray hair plastered tight to his forehead.

“If you see any movement, Tam, I have my bow ready.”

“I’m just as worried about men ahead of us, or overhead,”Tam said, glancing up. “Certainly the riders who follow are two hours behindus.”

“I don’t think so,” the story finder said, puffing as theyclimbed. “Alaan made sure that we traversed back and forth across the face ofthe hill, saving our mounts, but these men saw us and will come straight on.Their horses will be tired, and perhaps they will be too, after they’ve ledmuch of the way on foot, but they are likely not far behind now.”

“Then hurry on, Cynddl,” Tam said, “I’ve seen enough ofHafydd’s guards to last me a lifetime.”

Tam glanced up, wondering, unable to suppress a feeling thatrocks or arrows would come raining down on them at any moment.

Before they reached the crest the first man appeared behind.He was horseless and carrying a bared blade that glittered in the sun. Tamcalled to Cynddl and heard the word pass up the line to Alaan. They pressed onmore quickly, all of them gasping for breath now, unable to speak. Tamstumbled, trying to look back and forward at the same time. He bloodied hisknee, but pulled himself up and hobbled on.

Another man appeared below, a bow in his hand. Above him Tamcould hear the panting horses, hooves clattering over frost-shattered stone.

Another archer appeared and let an arrow fly.

“They’re shooting at us!” Tam called up, watching the higharc of the arrow. It plummeted down toward them but well wide, having beencaught by a breeze above the walls of the draw.

“Shoot back,” Alaan called, hardly able to spare the breath.

Tam stopped and took aim. He was shooting downhill, whichwas never easy. He might waste an arrow to find the range. He drew back thestring, finding the bow stiffer than his last. The arrow flew down the draw,the Fael bow every bit as good as its reputation.

The men at the bottom scattered as Tam’s arrow passed amongthem, but he thought no one was hit. He could see heads rising up above stonesand shrubs. That might slow them a little.

Tam turned and hurried to catch up with his companions.Cynddl had given his horse to Fynnol and came back to join Tam, bow in hand,his young-old face drawn tight with concern, gray hair plastered to hissweating brow.

“Shall we make a stand here for a while and let the othersreach the crest?” Tam wondered. He gazed down the draw, where there wasmovement among the stones.

“Alaan says to keep them back but not to fall behind.”Cynddl pulled back his arrow and let it fly, then quickly nocked another. “Alaan’sattention appears to be drawn up, in the direction we’re going, as though thethreat from below is not the real concern.”

Tam glanced at the story finder, then back down the draw. “That’snot what I wanted to hear.”

“Well, perhaps I’m wrong,” Cynddl said. “Let us hope so.”

The two scrambled up the draw, their eyes darting back andforth between the path and the men below. Tam tripped again and had to catchhimself with a hand. Nothing was broken but an arrow, and he quickly hadanother from his quiver.

The draw narrowed around them, gray-brown ramparts of stonejutting up to either side. The path was no longer straight, but curved andturned back and forth, as though cut by a meandering river. Horses and menbobbed up the path, the sound of shod hooves echoing off the walls.

Alaan stopped, and called down, “Tam? Cynddl? Can you stopthem at the bottom of the narrows for a time?” He took two deep breaths. “Holdthem back as best you can, but try to keep yourself out of sight, so they don’tknow if you’re there or not. The moment they think you’re gone, they’ll rush upthe slope.”

“Go on,” Tam called. “Leave these men to us.”

Tam and Cynddl hid themselves as best they could at the bottomof the narrow section, stepping out every minute or so to loose an arrow at thefigures below. Tam could see them running between boulders, hiding themselvesfor a moment, then dashing to the next place of safety. There was little chancethat they would be hit at this distance, but Tam and Cynddl were excellentarchers and kept their pursuers fearful, for they never missed by much.

Cynddl leaned out from behind the stone wall, gazing downthe draw. His whole manner was catlike, Tam thought, poised to pounce or run.The story finder dressed as he had when they traveled down the river-in Faelclothing, though the colors were mute-greens and browns.

He stepped out into the opening, sent an arrow hissing downthe draw, then jumped back behind the wall of stone.

“How long do you think we should stay here?” Tam wondered.

Cynddl glanced up the narrow path between towering stonewalls. “I don’t know. How long would it take them to reach the crest?”

Tam shrugged. He sent an arrow down the draw, narrowlymissing a man who dived behind a pile of stone. “We’ve almost reached ajuncture here. If these men get any closer, we’ll start hitting them.” Tamglanced up the cleft behind. “They’ll almost certainly try to rush us, or we’llpick them off one at a time.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Cynddl said. “Once they’ve workedtheir way up to that little stand of pines, we should turn and run.”

Tam was surprised at how patient they were, considering thatthe men making their way up the draw certainly meant to kill them. When theyleft the Vale he would never have expected that, in a short while, he would beso composed under attack. But since leaving the Vale his life had been in dangermore times than he cared to count. Passing through the crucible had changedhim.

Crows, perched on narrow ledges above, began to caw and fluttertheir wings.

Fynnol appeared, running. “Come up now, as quick as you can.”He didn’t await an answer, but turned and dashed back up the way he’d come.

“Your cousin had a sword in hand,” Cynddl observed.

Tam nodded. Both he and the story finder stepped out intothe opening and fired at men leaping behind rocks and bushes. Without a word,they turned and sped up the draw. The slope was steep, and they were soongasping for breath, forcing themselves to go on. The walls of the cut snakedup, then suddenly opened. Tam glanced up and saw the others not far off, thecrest hovering just above them. They appeared to be waiting, though theirattention was focused upward, and all bore arms.

When Tam finally caught up with the others they barelyglanced his way, keeping their gazes on the crest. A massive man stood there,as large as Orlem, an enormous bow in his hands. Another, just as large, walkedup beside him, bearing a staff that looked like it had once been the trunk of asubstantial tree. The two near giants stared down on the smaller men below,their faces set and hard.

“My eyes are playing tricks?” Tam said, barely able togather his breath.

“No, they’re the Dubrell: Orlem’s people,” Alaan saidsoftly.

“There are more like Slighthand?”

“There is only one Slighthand, but this is the race fromwhich he sprang.”

“What do they want?” Cynddl asked. “We’re about to haveHafydd’s spies on our backs.”

“Yes, we’re caught between the hammer and the anvil. TheDubrell want us to go back, but we cannot. I’d hoped to cross their landsbefore they became aware of us. They don’t look kindly on outsiders.”

“That isn’t particularly comforting,” Fynnol whispered, rockingfrom one foot to the other, an arrow drawn and ready to shoot. “If we stayhere, we’re going to be fighting a company with more than double our number.Can you not speak with these giants?”

“They don’t speak with outsiders. They just drive them off.”

Fynnol kept glancing nervously down the draw. Around them asmall army of agitated crows cawed, their dark eyes glittering in the dulllight.

The giants above wore roughly woven cloaks of gray, and leggingsbound with leather thongs. Their hair and beards were earthy brown and long,faces turned to leather by wind and sun. There was so little expression inthose faces that Tam thought they looked like statues.

Crowheart pointed to the left. “Can we move the horses there,behind those rocks? Archers will kill them all in a moment if we don’t dosomething to protect them.”

Alaan continued to stare at the giants above. “Move themslowly. Don’t meet the eyes of the men above and do nothing they might take asthreatening.”

“If we can get into the cover of some rocks here,” Tam said,“we might drive Hafydd’s guards back. We have the advantage of our position.”

“Which was my plan,” Alaan said, “before the Dubrell appeared.If only we’d brought Orlem …”

The crows began a raucous chorus, bouncing up and down wherethey perched on rocks and stunted trees. At the narrowing of the draw, thebirds on ledges bent down and scolded something below.

“They’re coming,” Alaan said. “Everyone turn around slowly.”

The traveler nocked an arrow as he faced the men appearingdown the rise.

Alaan let fly at the first men erupting from the fissure inthe stone. He missed by a handbreadth, his arrow shattering on the stone. Themen dropped down but still came on. Some of them bore round shields, and theothers collected behind them. The angle of the ground made the shields doublyeffective, for they hid more of the man than they would on level ground. Tamand the others poured arrows down the draw, but these were less effective thanthey should have been. If they could have used their horses, they would soonhave been away, but the giants at their backs held them fast.

“There are only two of the big men,” Fynnol whispered toAlaan. “Perhaps we should rush them?”

“No, they have allies you’ve not yet seen.”

“Then we’re about to engage Hafydd’s men at close quarters,”Cynddl said, “and there are still ten of them and only five of us.”

Crows began to fall on the men, battering them with theirwings, stabbing at their eyes with sharp beaks. The company faltered but didnot stop.

Tam cast his bow aside and drew his blade. Here was a fighthe did not relish, even more so as their backs were vulnerable to these hostilegiants.

Something gray hurtled past Tam, followed by another. He wasknocked aside, and when he scrambled up, a pack of wolves was swarming over themen coming up the draw. The men fell back, trying to defend themselves withswords and shields. But there were twenty wolves, large and fearless, snappingand snarling as they dove at the men from all directions, even as the crowsfell on them out of the sky. The wolves clamped onto limbs with their greatfangs and refused to be dislodged.

“Don’t fire any arrows!” Alaan warned, as Fynnol raised hisbow. “These wolves belong to the Dubrell.”

Crowheart and Cynddl went to the suddenly skittish horses.

They might never have seen wolves before, but they knew athreat when they met one. Tam saw that Crowheart quickly calmed them. Theyalmost seemed to gather behind him, as though he were their protector.

Hafydd’s men were as disciplined as Tam expected. They didn’tbreak and run, but formed a tight circle, back-to-back, and made their way downthe draw, fending off the marauding wolves as best they could. The men weremuch bitten and torn by the time they reached the bottom of the draw, andthough they bared their teeth and shouted at the wolves, Tam could see howfrightened they were.

The sound of the wolves snarling and howling echoed up thenarrow draw, then silence. The wolves reappeared, padding back toward Tam andthe others, their heads held low. They eyed the strangers and growled, baringbloody fangs. Some were wounded or bloodied from their battle, and Tam thoughthe had seldom seen a sight so frightening. The hair rose on the back of hisneck. He lifted his sword.

“Offer no harm to these animals unless they attack,” Alaancautioned. “They’re all but sacred to the Dubrell; as valued than their ownchildren.”

But Alaan’s hope that they would not be forced to fight wasclearly vain. The wolves came directly toward them, their eyes unwavering andfilled with malice. Their growling and snarling grew louder as they drew near.

When only a few paces off, Crowheart walked out, putting himselfbetween the wolves and his companions. His sword was back in its sheath, andhis posture indicated a man at ease-not one who feared he might be torn apartin a moment. Softly he spoke to the pack, and the wolves raised their heads,perking up their ears as though they’d met a friend. They circled about theoutlandish figure, sniffing him, then licking his hands. All the while he keptspeaking to them in a soft warm voice, the words too quiet for Tam to make out.

Slowly Tam turned his head to find the giants above him conversingin whispers. One of them called out, and the wolves reluctantly torethemselves away from Crowheart. They loped up to their masters, where theycircled about, wagging their gray tails like dogs.

Rabal’s crow army washed out of the cleft in the rocks,rising up like a blot on the clouds. A few of the black birds detached themselvesfrom the vanguard and flew to Crowheart, landing on his shoulder andoutstretched wrist. There they cawed defiantly and preened themselves withnervous movements.

Tam tried to calm his breathing. The wolves, with theirbloody muzzles, suddenly seemed like pets, when a moment before they’d beentearing into the flesh of armed men. Several of the wolves were wounded andlimping. The giants crouched down and examined the hurts, their faces graveand filled with concern. One of the giants stood and performed a head count. Heset off down the draw, Tam and the others making way for him.

He stalked down the slope, his great arms swinging like treebranches in a gale. In a moment he was crouched over something on the ground. Hebore up a bundle of gray fur, carrying the wounded animal up the draw.

He passed the strangers without even a glance. The wolf hebore was panting too quickly, and bleeding from a wound in its side.

The giant turned at the top of the draw, where all the wolvesgathered around him. He looked back at Alaan and his companions, his mannerangry and grief-filled and fierce.

“Go back,” he said in a strange accent. “You cannot passthrough these lands. Go back while you still live.”

“I can heal their animal,” Crowheart whispered to Alaan.

Alaan stepped forward, his manner respectful but not cowed. “Wehave not come here to bring you trouble,” Alaan said. “And we are deeply sorryfor any that we have brought. But Crowheart can heal your wolf, for he has thisgift, given to him long ago by a sorcerer.”

Rabal glanced at Alaan as though he were about to protest,but he kept his peace.

The grieving giant laid his wounded animal upon the sparsebrown grass and spoke with his companion, their voices so deep they seemed torumble up from some tunnel into the earth.

“Who are you?” one of the giants asked, his voice drum deep.

He addressed Crowheart, but it was Alaan who answered. “Heis a healer,” Alaan said. “Rabal Crowheart is his name.”

The larger of the Dubrell crouched, stroking his dying wolf.He peered at Alaan a moment.

“We know you,” the giant said, long, deep vowels tumblingslowly out of a cavernous chest. “The whist is your servant.”

“Jac is no man’s servant, but he follows me all the same.”

“He is a bird of ill omen and not welcome here.” The giantglanced over at Crowheart, whose minions still preened themselves upon hisoutstretched arm. “But if the crow keeper can heal Arddu, we will be in yourdebt.” He turned and spoke with his companion in what, Tam realized, was not somuch a different language as an almost impenetrable accent.

“Bring your horses,” the giant said. “It is not far.”

The giant took up the wounded beast and led the way down themountain. Only one carried a sword-a blade as great as Orlem’s-the other wore along knife on his belt. Tam guessed that men this large did not worry muchabout enemies.

The Dubrell set a pace that the men found difficult tofollow, and they were soon back in the saddle, pressing their horses on, forthe great stride of the giants ate up the furlongs. Presently they were downamong the trees again, the forest growing more dense.

“Look,” Cynddl said, his eyes turned up to the trees thattowered overhead, their boles a dozen feet broad. “These are spruce-but unlikeany I have seen before. Giant spruce!” And then he stopped as a vista opened upbefore him: a broad valley, hazy and green, at its center a turquoise lake. Thestory finder pointed. “It is the forest cloud: the alollynda tree!”

Above the fabric of green, stood the round crowns of severaltrees that seemed to float over the surrounding forest. They were spring-greenagainst the dark color of the conifers.

“There must be twenty of them!” Cynddl said. “There can’t bea stand so large in all the land between the mountains.”

Tam did not quite understand the status of the alollyndaamong the Fael. Certainly it was not a sacred tree, as the silveroak had oncebeen to men, but the wanderers prized it above all others. Its wood was covetedfor faellutes and other musical instruments. Even the smallest, most simpleobject made of alollynda was accorded the highest value among the Fael. Alielhad told Tam that when an alollynda was cut down wandering companies of Faelwould gather and spend days preparing for the event. Three alollynda saplingswould be planted according to ancient teachings, though fewer and fewer ofthese had survived over the years. No one knew why. The alollynda had all butdisappeared from the land between the mountains, only a few still standing inthe most remote places, or on slopes where they could never be felled withoutbeing dashed to splinters.

The giants stopped often to look at the ground, readinganimal prints,Tam guessed. They did not speak much, but kept their heads up,their eyes darting here and there, aware of all that transpired around them.

“Who are these people?” Tam asked Alaan, as they rode neareach other.

Alaan glanced at the massive men who led them, then seemedto decide that it was all right to speak. “The Dubrell are the remains of arace that prospered long ago, though even at their height their numbers werenot large. There are only two areas I know of where they still dwell;unfortunately, one of these lies on the shortest path to the place we’regoing. I’d hoped we might slip through before they were aware of us. They’renot a warlike people, but are suspicious of outsiders, whom they encounter veryinfrequently. We are thought to be bringers of bad luck-you heard what theysaid about my whist.”

“You have been here before,” Tam said.

“Yes. Once. I explored the route we follow now, thinkingthat I might come this way one day. They were not so lucky then-to catch me ina draw with enemies at my back. I eluded them. Apparently they haven’tforgotten, however.” Alaan glanced thoughtfully down the slope to the giantsmaking their way through the widely spaced trees. His handsome face was thinnernow, pale and slightly aged, though his dark beard was still neatly trimmed,his traveler’s clothes a little too well tailored.

Alaan went on. “Orlem told me that he wandered up onto amountain-centuries ago-because he’d heard a story that other Dubrell haddisappeared there; Dubrell who knew the ways of the wildlands and themountains. He went searching to see what had become of them, but instead foundhimself wandering in strange lands, much as happened to you on the River Wynnd.He walked into the beginnings of a war in the land between the mountains. Acompany of armed men, beating the countryside for conscripts, came across him,and he was taken into the army against his will. But his size and strength, aswell as his unexpected talent for war, brought him to the attention of Caibre,whom he served for many years-before he fell under the spell of Sianon.” Alaanglanced back at Tam, who had been staring at him, as though he could come tosome understanding of this enigma who called himself Alaan.

“But Orlem became your friend,” Tam said.

“He was the friend of Sainth, not Alaan.”

The sun sank behind the mountain, and a long shadow washed downthe slope, catching them like a returning tide. Dusk flooded among the trees,and they were soon squinting into the shadows, trying to see their way. But asthe giant had said, it was not far.

What Tam first thought was a cliff turned out to be a stonewall, and set into it, a large gate. One of the giants whistled an odd patternand overhead was heard the scraping of wood on stone. A square of lightappeared high up in the wall, and a few moments later they heard a deep thudinside, and one of the massive doors cracked open. The giant pulled it wide sothat it screeched on its hinges. The wolf pack bid their masters good-bye, anddisappeared into the night. Inside, a dark courtyard could be seen, lit only bya single lantern, a candle burning within.

“There is room for your horses in our stable,” the giantsaid. “If some of you will follow me. The healer should go with Wolfson.”

Alaan and Rabal followed Wolfson up a stone stairway, leavingtheir companions to tend the horses.

The giant took the candle lantern off its hook and led theminto the stable, which was occupied by a few large draft horses. The companionssoon had their own horses stripped of saddles and gear, rubbed down, and fedand watered. Tam thought that their horses would not likely see suchcomfortable housing again until they returned to the land between themountains. After a fortnight in the wilds, such a stable might look like acomfortable inn to him and his companions as well.

“Come with me, now,” the giant said, waving at the door. “Iam Stonehand.”

“I’m Tam, and this is my cousin, Fynnol, and our friendCynddl, who is a story finder.”

The giant appraised Cynddl with his large, surprisinglykindly eyes.

“We will take our supper soon,” Stonehand said. “If yourfriend can heal Arddu, then you shall share our meal.”

“And if he can’t?” Fynnol asked quickly.

“That is not for me to decide.”

They went up the stairs and through a tall door made of oakplanks thicker than Tam’s hand was broad. A small entry hall opened up beforethem, the woodwork rough but the feel of the place homey. They shed their mailand boots there, leaning weapons against a wall. After a hard day of travel andthe excitement and fear of their contest with Hafydd’s guards, the smell ofcooking food lifted Tam’s spirits.

Light spilled out of a door onto the plank floor, polishedfrom years of use. Stonehand led them through the door, and inside they found agood-sized chamber, well lit by candles and a fire in an imposing hearth. Coolmountain air flooded in the windows, for even in summer the nights were chillat this elevation. A few pieces of rustic furniture, of a size that made Tamfeel like a child again, were spread randomly about the room, and to one sidestood a long, high table, with benches to either side.

A rough blanket had been spread before the fire and on thislay the wounded wolf, panting, mouth lolled open and wet with drool. Crowheart,Alaan, and the other giant knelt over it, Crowheart washing the wound with adamp cloth.

“He will live,” Rabal reassured the giant, who was obviouslymuch affected by the beast’s suffering. “He will not be well for a few days,but he will live.”

“The blade sank into his gut,” the giant said. “How can helive?”

“He will live,” Alaan said. “If Rabal says he will behealed, he will be healed.”

The giant looked up at him. “Then he must be a sorcerer’s pupil,for Arddu’s blood loss alone would do for most animals.”

“Luck has smiled upon you today, for Crowheart was nearby,”Alaan said.

“Luck …?” the giant said disdainfully. “If not for you,Arddu would not have been wounded, for those men were your enemies, not ours.”

Alaan didn’t answer, for surely the giant was right, Tamthought.

Stonehand stood looking on, bent just a little to gaze downon the injured beast, the lines of his face deep with concern.

Crowheart began to sing or chant softly over the injured animal.He stroked the slick fur around the wound and scratched gently behind the wolf’sears. The words he sang could not be made out, but their meaning could almostbe grasped, though no quite.

Tam had a moment to observe their hosts. They were like toOrlem Slighthand in size-Baore might have almost reached Stonehand’s shoulder.Certainly they would be more than double Tam’s weight, and Tam was not a smallman. Their bodies were thick and muscled, and a little round about the middle.They appeared to have been rather crudely carved compared to someone likeFynnol, who was slight of waist and wiry as a weasel. Their faces werehalf-hidden by beards, and thick hair flowed down to their shoulders. Althoughhe would guess there was little vanity among these giants, their hair wasclean, and their clothes, though worn and mended expertly here and there, hadbeen recently laundered.

“I will be here all this night,” Crowheart said. “Break yourfast and leave me to my duties.”

Reluctantly, the giants gave way to Crowheart. Stonehandwent to the hearth and took the lid from a blackened iron pot that hung from ahook. His companion retrieved bowls and plates from a cupboard and set thetable. In a moment they were all seated, eating a thick stew and chunks ofdense bread. Stonehand rose to shut the windows, for the room was rapidlycooling.

The sound of howling wolves came to them through the glass,distant and eerie.

“Will you set a guard this night?”

“The pack will stand guard. The men who chased you todaywould be foolish to come here, but if they do, we’ll know.”

The giants could have easily been brothers, but it turnedout they weren’t. It seemed they were reluctant to speak with the strangers,but every time they looked over at Crowheart and found their wolf still alive,their reticence softened a little.

“Are you the only two living here?” Alaan asked. “It seems alarge keep.”

“There is a third here this night. He might show himself byand by,” Stonehand said. “Others kept to the mountain this day to hold thestrangers at bay. We’re here for four full moons to watch the north pass.” Hegestured with a hand. “It is quiet duty, but needed all the same.”

“There is some threat from the lands to the north?” Alaancontinued.

The Dubrell glanced at each other, then Wolfson answered.

“You’re the first in many a year. ’Tis the to the south thatour lands are threatened.”

Stonehand glared at him, and Wolfson fell silent, applyinghimself to his stew without looking up.

A door opened then, and an old man came in. If anything hewas taller than the two giants present, even though he stooped a little underthe weight of his years. White beard and hair made a great contrast to hissun-stained face and troubled blue eyes.

The old man stopped short when he saw the strangers gatheredat the table, then his gaze took in Crowheart sitting by the injured wolf.Immediately he crossed to the animal, and Wolfson rose and went to where theold man crouched, stroking the wolf’s head.

Wolfson began speaking in their strangely accented language,of which Tam understood only a few words. It occurred to him then that if thesegiants were isolated enough to have developed such a thick accent, how did theylearn to speak the common tongue as it was spoken in the land between themountains?

The old man muttered a few words, then raised his eyes fromthe wolf to stare at Crowheart. After a moment, he got stiffly to his feet andwalked over to the table. Stonehand stood up as the old man approached, hismanner respectful. Alaan quickly followed suit, and the others did the same.

“This is Uamon, who dwells in this place,” Wolfson said, andintroduced the strangers, forgetting no one’s name.

“Sit,” the old man said. “Eat while your dinner is hot.”

Wolfson brought Uamon food and drink and seated him at thetable’s head.

Fynnol glanced over at Tam and raised an eyebrow, but Tamdidn’t know who or what this old man was either.

The Dubrell had a few more words, then Uamon spoke.

“Where is it you travel?” he asked in a smoky voice.

“South,” Alaan said, though Tam sensed he was reluctant tobe their spokesman.

“South?” Uamon said. “Better you went some other way.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Our route lies south,” Alaan said firmly.

Uamon dipped a spoon into his bowl, raising it to blowgently on a steaming chunk of lamb. He had a gentle aspect, this old giant, butthere was also a sorrow about him, Tam thought.

“Our people have trouble to the south,” Uamon said. “It ismy duty to ask what would take you there?”

“I seek someone who lives beyond your lands.”

Again Uamon sipped at his stew. “Beyond our borders you willfind dark lands. Shadow lands. My people don’t go there willingly. Of those fewwho have, only one returned.”

“We all have our duties,” Alaan said. “Ours lead us south.If you will let us pass, we shall bother you no more.”

“I suppose if a man goes seeking Death, one cannot stop him,for Death can be found anywhere-even within this room.” He glanced over at the wolf,who moaned quietly by the fire. “But what of your companions? Do theyunderstand where it is you go?”

“We have met Death’s servants before,” Fynnol said. “Onceyou have faced them, there is nothing left that will frighten you.”

“Do not be so sure of that. My people have long stood vigilover our southern border. Beasts have been seen there that were the stuff ofnightmare.” He shivered visibly. “What duties could take you to Death’skingdom, I wonder?”

Alaan’s reluctance to answer was obvious, but clearly hefelt there was no choice. They must have free passage from the Dubrell. “Wewill not go there-not to the gate. Only into the borderlands.”

“Ah. Only into the borderlands,” Uamon said softly.Still he concentrated on his food, not looking at Alaan. “I fear you do notunderstand what it is you do. Where it is you go.”

“I have been to the borderlands before,” Alaan said.

Uamon’s head lifted, his troubled blue eyes coming to reston Alaan. “What do you seek there, if it is not Death?”

“I seek … knowledge.”

“Better to sit at the feet of a wise man.”

“No wise man is foolish enough to have learned what I wishto know,” Alaan said, his voice growing testy. “Is it not enough that we aremen of good character, and that we mean no harm to your people? There areother races with their own struggles, their own troubles. We seek only tobring aid to our own people.”

Uamon gazed at Alaan a moment, while the other giantsshifted uncomfortably on their benches. They did not think Alaan should speakto their elder so.

“It is not enough,” Uamon said. “I must be assured that yourduties will not bring greater suffering to my own people-for this could be donewithout it being your purpose. The lands to the south are a great mystery.”

Before Alaan could answer, a deep rumbling was heard. Tamfelt suddenly disoriented, as though he were falling. His soup slopped overonto the table, and he felt himself thrown violently back, then forward. Andthen it was calm, only a spray of sparks from the logs shifting in the fire.

“They happen more often now,” Stonehand said, looking not atall surprised. “The earth is restless.”

“No,” Alaan said. “A great spell is unraveling. A spell thatwalled Death into his kingdom and held two great lands apart. The earth tremorswill grow worse. Even the mountains might not stand against them, and in theend Death will be released and overrun the world of the living.”

Uamon’s spoon stopped as it traveled to his mouth, and hishand trembled visibly. He glanced over at Crowheart, then back to Alaan. “Howdo you know this?”

“Because I saw the chamber where the spell was made. I didn’trealize what it was then, but now I know. The spell is decaying, and I seekthe help of someone who might know how it could be repaired.”

“You know too much of sorcery,” Uamon said quickly.

“I don’t know enough,” Alaan answered. “Will you let us passthrough your lands?”

Uamon stirred his spoon through his soup. “I will considerit,” he said, then rose from the table, disturbed by what he had learned.Stonehand and Wolfson lurched to their feet as the old man rose, and the othersdid the same. Uamon crossed the room without looking back, closing the doorsoftly behind him.

The companions stared at the closed door for a moment, thenturned back to their food. An awkward silence settled over the room, brokenonly by Crowheart humming over the injured wolf.

Tam, Fynnol, Cynddl, and Alaan were led to a long barracks,where a dozen beds lined up against one wall. Stonehand had slipped away andlit a fire in the hearth here, but the room was still cool and damp. The bedswere made for the Dubrell and seemed almost comically large to the companions,especially as they were each made for one man.

Cynddl lay down on top of his bed, staring up at theceiling. “I shall need a growth spurt before I fit this bed.”

“Yes,” Fynnol said, “I’ve heard of having large shoes tofill, but I hate to think what having a large bed to fill might mean.”

Cynddl laughed, always appreciative of a quick wit. “Wemight comfort ourselves that they’re single beds,” he offered.

Alaan climbed into one of the massive chairs by the hearthin the room’s center.

“What do you make of these giants?” Cynddl asked him. Thestory finder rose and went to stand with his arm resting on the back of thesecond chair. “Given that the hidden lands have seemed almost empty of people,I’m surprised at how suspicious they are. Who could they possibly be fightingagainst?”

Alaan glanced up at the Fael, and then back at the waveringflames. “I’m not sure, Cynddl, but they fear things that come from the south.The Kingdom of Death is not distant. If the spell that walls Death in isfailing, then they no doubt have reason to be fearful and suspicious. TheDubrell are tied to the lands hereabouts and will not easily be driven off, butwhat exactly is going on I cannot say. It was such a long time ago that Orlemdwelt here. Much has changed. You should all sleep. We’re safe here, and youmight not have that luxury again for some time.”

Tam lay awake for a time, even after the candles had beenblown out. He finally drifted off as Alaan left his chair by the fire andsought his own bed.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, or what woke him,but he found himself aware in the darkness. The fire had burned down to embers,and a faint light of stars or moon illuminated the window. The even breathingof the others reassured him a little: no one else had been wakened. But then heheard a horse nicker.

He was at the window in an instant, staring down into thecourtyard below. At first he thought their horses were being taken, then herealized that riders were dismounting-perhaps a dozen of them, it was hard totell in the faint light. He could see one of the giants holding a lantern aloftand armed men going purposefully about their business.

And they were men, for they didn’t reach the giant’sshoulder. Some led horses into the stables, and others went silently to a doorin the lower part of the building.

“What is it?” Alaan asked, propping himself up in bed.

“A company of riders,” Tam said, pulling on breeches anddrawing his dagger from its sheath.

Alaan rolled out of his bed onto his feet, silent as astone. He was at the window instantly, hands resting on the ledge.

“Have the Dubrell betrayed us?” Tam whispered.

“Perhaps. Wake the others.”

They barricaded the door into the room with the massivechairs, and all waited silently. Their weapons had been left in the entrybelow, out of courtesy, and all they had were daggers and the fireplace poker.

“What of Crowheart?” Cynddl asked.

“Stay quiet and listen,” Alaan said. But there was nothingto be heard.

Alaan lit a candle, and they pulled the chairs away from thedoor. In the hallway they found no one.

Alaan balanced on the balls of his feet, his every attentionconcentrated on listening. “Tam?” he whispered. “Come with me. You two stayhere and open the door to no one until we return. If you are threatened, youmight have to go out the window.”

Alaan held the candle high as they made their way along thehall and down the steps, the treads set at almost double the height of thesteps Tam was accustomed to.

The large chamber where they had dined was empty but forCrowheart, who sat cross-legged by the prostrate wolf. The healer made nosounds, but stayed perfectly still, his eyes closed.

“Rabal?” Tam whispered. “Rabal …?”

“Leave him,” Alaan said. “He is in a healing trance andshould not be roused unless we’re threatened.”

In the entry they found their weapons still leaning againstthe wall. Alaan sheathed his dagger and straightened up, for he had beenhalf-crouched, like a man about to do battle.

“Whoever these men are, I think they’re no threat to us.”

Tam was reassured by the sight of their weapons, which hadclearly not been disturbed.

“But what goes on here?” Tam whispered. “Who are they?”

Alaan shook his head. “I don’t know, Tam. The Dubrell havesecrets, that is certain.”

Alaan opened the door and looked out. The courtyard wasempty, lit only by the last sliver of moon, the ancient light of the stars. Heled the way out into the cool night and down the giant stairs. In the courtyardthey found barely a sign that the riders had been there. And then Tam saw afaint gleam on the cobbles and bent to retrieve a small object.

“What is it?” Alaan whispered.

“I don’t know. It’s too dark to tell.”

Alaan looked into the dark stable, but there was little tobe seen there without light, and they hadn’t brought a candle lantern. Theywere up the cold stairs and inside in a moment.

By the fire, Crowheart sat unmoving. Tam paused for a momentin the doorway. He could see the even rise and fall of the wolf’s chest, and hewas certain it slept peacefully. Whatever magic Crow-heart was performingseemed to be working.

They slipped up the stairs, and the others let them backinto their barracks, where it seemed warm after the cold of the courtyard.Cynddl and Fynnol looked anxiously at their companions as they returned.

“Who are these men?” Cynddl whispered. “What do they wanthere?”

“I don’t know,” Alaan answered, shaking his head. He wentand warmed his hands by the fire. “Clearly they are friends or allies of theDubrell.”

“I didn’t know that men traveled through the hidden lands exceptby accident,” Fynnol said. He dropped to his knees before the fire, which hadbeen built up again in their absence. Tam could see that his cousin wasunsettled, wakened from sleep to find himself threatened.

“There are a few who can find their way here, Fynnol,” Alaansaid. “Crowheart is one. But for the most part, what you say is true.”

Tam remembered the small object he had found and fished itfrom a pocket. He moved to the hearth so that the light shone upon it.

“So, what is that, Tam?” Alaan asked.

“It appears to be a small broach. Oak leaves, I think.”

He passed it to Cynddl, who knew more of trees and plantsthan the rest of them combined.

Cynddl turned it over in the firelight. “It’s a fan ofsilveroak leaves.” He looked up at Alaan. “Didn’t you tell us, the night we metby Telanon Bridge, that a fan of silveroak leaves was the token of the Knightsof the Vow?”

Alaan held out his hand. He examined the silver ornamentcarefully, turning it over in his hand several times.

“That is the token of the Knights,” he said at last. Helooked up at the others, his face dark with concern or confusion. “Did thesemen wear the gray robes,Tam?”

“No, they were all differently dressed. Nor was their armormade to a pattern.” Tam tried to call up a picture of what he’d seen of the menin the courtyard. “Some wore surcoats, and others did not. I saw no devicesupon the shields, nor did they bear standards.”

“That is strange,” Fynnol said thoughtfully. “In a battle itis easy to kill your own men if they’re not clearly marked.”

“Yes,” Alaan said, “if you’re fighting men.”