In the Caves of Exile Page 6

  “And well they should,” Marhan mumbled. “Man's done well.”

  “There's more,” Ylia said. Her mouth was dry. Hard, so hard to speak it. “Each time we met with Thullen, on our way north, there were Mathkkra.” A babble of noise, silenced abruptly as she held up a hand. “With them, or nearby. If Thullen attacked Telean, so near the Caves—well, my friends, from now on, no one walks abroad alone after dark.”

  “I—no.” Marckl shook his head firmly indeed. “I'm sorry, I simply can't believe that! Mathkkra?”

  You had better.” Lisabetha leaned forward. “They're as real as you are. Ylia? May I?”

  “Go ahead.” Ylia studied her hands, drew her finely balanced dagger and studied it gloomily as Lisabetha spoke of her capture by Mathkkra, her subsequent rescue.

  “I know my repute, Marckl, Lord Corry's high-strung, inventive daughter. These creatures I did not imagine. No one could. Doubt the look of them, if you will, for they resemble nothing we think of as Mathkkra, but do not dare doubt they exist. For the sake of all our lives.”

  “I—well.” Ifney cleared his throat. He looked worried and unhappy indeed. “After all, a man can prepare for the worst, whether he believes in its form or not.” Silence, which he again broke. “Now, the folk themselves, you aren't suggesting we tell them, are you?”

  “I don't know.” Ylia returned the dagger—Brendan's dagger, Brelian's gift—to its sheath. “I need your help with that, all of you. I hoped to avoid panic, and needless fear. And so I held my companions on the journey north to silence, and kept silence myself. Now—now that the threat comes near again—perhaps we have no choice. I can see no choice. If any of you can, tell me now!”

  They talked: together, one at a time, argued and fought it. But she was right, there was no choice. Telean would spread the tale from one end of Aresada to the other. Or Erken's armsmen would. No choice.

  “Better, if the tale comes from you, Lady,” Bnorn said finally. Ylia sighed, bowed her head in reluctant assent.

  “At evening-meal tomorrow. All right.” She met Erken's eyes, shook her head minutely. Nothing of Lyiadd, nothing of the rest of it, the vowed vengeance against her personally, unless it became absolutely necessary. He caught her message, looked rather relieved.

  “Keep in mind, all of you,” Marhan said as they rose to seek what little sleep might be left them, “they can be slain, and by men bearing plain steel. A thing to remember, I own I forgot it often enough. The Fear is merely an additional shield for them. Think of it so, and they become less deadly an adversary.”

  “You reassure me,” Marckl replied dryly. Clearly Marhan's words did no such thing.

  'Nisana?’ Ylia sank back into her chair as the last of her council left the chamber and sought the cat with urgent mind-touch.

  'I'm all right, these people are. No further worries so far.’ Ylia caught at the cat's thought for distance and direction, turned to the far vision. Fires burned high out along the narrow trail that led from Teshmor to Aresada: the dark was no protection against Thullen or Mathkkra, and that being so, the folk had as well stay warm. The beasts were even more well guarded and Erken's armsmen patrolled ceaselessly. Nisana had settled down near the fire; one of the old women was stroking her fur with a shaking hand. But even as Ylia watched, the tremors slowed. Nisana's way with fear: so she'd dealt with Lisabetha when the girl's terror had threatened to drive her into madness. The old woman would sleep soon—more, she'd never know why she'd had such a pleasant night's rest.

  'Nisana, where's Lev?’

  'Mmmm? Oh. He took two of the guard and two of the village boys who use bow to make a wide circuit about the camp. Lest there be anything else abroad.’

  'Damn. He knows the Mathkkra can hide from a normal search!’

  'Or any other sort. Of course. He's taking reasonable care. You know the man! But there may be prints. Besides, it gives the others something to do, and a sense of worth that they are doing it.’

  “I—well—his choice, of course. I don't like it.’

  'No.’ The cat arched her back, let a limp old hand slide away as she moved. The granddame was snoring gently, her head fallen onto her chest. ‘Like me, you like none of it. I'll remain here the night, and if there is need, I'll rouse you. Otherwise, look for us before noon-meal. We will waste no more time, I'll wager you.’

  'No take on that. Have care!’

  'Hah. Go sleep, girl, and don't fuss at me.’

  She was fussing, she who'd sworn she'd never fuss anyone, not after all she'd, endured of it. Levren had all the experience of the journey north to guide them. They could fend for Telean, he and Erken's armsmen. “Go sleep,” she ordered herself, and pushed away from the table with determination. “Worry tomorrow when it gets here.” She doused the candles, stumbled across to the smaller Chamber. Her bedding was rumpled and cold again. She kicked off her boots, set aside the sword sheath, unstrapped the dagger but laid it near her hand, and pulled the furry cloak across her shoulders.

  Sleep she did, finally. But the branches under her crackled as she tossed and turned, and she dreamed, as she had so often since entering the Foessa. Lyiadd's halls, as she'd seen them, shadowed, blood-red shadows edging the firepit, a sense of someone—something—occupying the great chair upon the dais. Lyiadd or the Lammior? Or, perhaps, Marrita? But—was it now, or the future, or a time long past she saw?

  A blackness, an inner blindness; she was disoriented and frightened, keenly aware of the path her feet unwillingly followed, knowing surely she went to face Marrita. Not the pampered, silk-clad noblewoman she'd once confronted, no. She had changed, Marrita, for there was a chill certainty about her, an assurance, and her very shadow was a horror. Only the eyes remained the same: enormous in that fragile-looking face, a dark brooding blue, filled with chill hatred for the swordswoman before her. But was this a thing of the future, or—Mothers grant it—merely bad dream?

  But she was drawn, drawn back and away, and Marrita faded, merged with shadow, was gone. Drawn—it was as though twine was looped about her wrist. She walked, her boots falling loud against stone floors, scuffling at fallen rubble. Aresada? She could not tell, for the dark was absolute, the second level of sight denied her. A faint music teased at her ear, pulling at her. She nearly ran, hands sliding along rough walls for balance, and her breath came short.

  Light, then, faint but increasing by the moment even as the music did, until it filled her, the golden light of spring dawn on the northern Plain and in the air a battle anthem to draw the very dead to life again. She scarcely dared breath.

  Three things hung suspended before her: a narrow shield, bronzed and carven, inlaid with polished stone and one golden topaz. A horn: Silver, delicately turned; with a tattered silken banner hanging from its length. So rent and stained was this, she could not see the design of it, any more than she could make out the patterning on the shield. And lastly—

  The sword.

  Inniva, such a sword! She could have wept of sheer hunger for it, and yet she dared not reach though she surely could have touched it. It lay upon the air itself and light cushioned it. Mine, it must be, it must be! Ah, no! For the light was fading, the sword scarcely visible, and now she did reach, but her hand encountered only air and still darkness. The air shuddered into her.

  Her eyes were suddenly dazzled: She stood upon a stone ledge, the setting sun level in her eyes; it blazed on the copper-hilted dagger in her left hand, and in her right—the sword itself, pulsing with light as though it were a living thing, possessed of the same pure joy that suddenly flooded her. Mine! she exulted, and could not doubt. Only then did she become aware of the Mathkkra—thirty or more of them—facing her. Facing her, and an unseen ally, who stood shoulder to shoulder with her. Wounded; he was hurt, she knew that; it was hard to block his pain to concentrate on the fight before her. Who? She turned, but the sun was a red glare in her eyes, she could not see his face, and the Mathkkra were drawing near. She sensed him, sensed the inner strength of him—not
Brendan, then, who had none of the Power. And yet, not AEldra. Who?

  A faint music touched the edge of hearing once again; battle-cry, a battle-song that brought strength back into the bleeding man at her side. Whoever it was, she knew surely that they would win out. The sword blazed in her hand.

  She was tired the next morning. A night of odd dreams took much from her and she'd had little enough sleep to begin with. Levren, Erken's men, Nisana (she was carried by village children in turns the whole distance) and village Telean came in not long after sunrise.

  The Caves were ablaze with the news: the daring rescue, the Bowmaster's slaying of the Thullen, the evil creatures themselves. No, there would have been no way to keep the matter secret.

  “As well,” Levren said, when he was finally able to break free of an overjoyed folk. “Too many here were treating, this as a midsummer picnic. They'll be more careful now. And I counseled from the start the gatherers and the fishers at the very least should have armed guard. Perhaps now they will listen!”

  “To you?” Golsat laughed. “To anything you say, from now on, a wager on it!”

  Levren laughed, shook his head. “Well, Telean, anyway—at least for the moment.”

  How often it is, that in the search for a thing, we find another—unexpected, and because unexpected, not recognized for something every bit as essential But so it proved, though it was long indeed before the entirety of what we found was realized.

  6

  'YLIA!!!' The mind-speech reverberated through her, jerking her away from Lisabetha's side. They were far down a side branch and some distance from the main entrance. So strong was Nisana's call, though, that Lisabetha caught the faintest edge of it.

  'Mothers, cat, don't do that! Where are you? What is it?’ After the first startled moment, her heart lurched—Mathkkra attacking? Or some other and worse thing?

  'Come now, I've found it, I have it!’

  “Gods and Mothers,” Ylia muttered. “Nisana needs me.”

  “So I gathered. Why?”

  “Anyone's guess, she's found something.” But at that, she knew what it was. “By all the Nasath at once, she's done it, she's found our refuge. Come on!”

  “But—the cache,” Lisabetha protested.

  “Leave it, come on!” They didn't run, it far, too dark, and their twine had run out five chambers previously. They had to hunt out two of the arrows. “Next time, we leave a stack of stone to mark the location of the arrows,” Ylia said firmly as she caught at the end of the thin rope and began rolling it into a ball.

  “No argument from me,” Lisabetha replied. “If she has found it—!” But neither of them really doubted.

  Nisana was awaiting them impatiently in Ylia's council-chamber. ‘Took you long enough. If you'd bridge, girl.’

  'No. You know better. But particularly not inside the Caves!’

  'There's no danger. You locate where you want to be with the vision, feel what you would touch when you arrive, and—there you are.’

  'Not there you might be, not I!’ And, aloud for Lisabetha's benefit: “You found it? The refuge? Where is it?”

  The small, darkly furred body radiated satisfaction, and for once Nisana would not be rushed. ‘I have searched every stream, every rivulet that pours into the Aresada, for days now. Every gully leading back from the River banks—’

  'Where, cat?"

  '—I'm not finished, be still! This morning, I found a large pool to the north of the river, perhaps seven leagues down-river. I almost passed it by, for it seemed nothing but a catch in the River's flow.’

  'And it is not?’

  'No. It marks the end of a stream nearly as broad as the Aresada, but shallower and hidden amongst willow and trees. It goes back some distance through low hills and heavy brush and forest, and it comes out—but see for yourself! They joined.

  “Oh, Mothers, look at that, look at it,” Ylia whispered. It was enormous: It could have been no less than five leagues from side to side, at least seven in length, and it was surrounded by high peaks, rounded barren foothills. Such trees as dotted the landscape were similar to those growing near the Torth, the trees of lower altitudes. She turned to Lisabetha. “I am sorry, that was rude of me. But Nisana has found it.”

  “Where?”

  “Down-river, a little north. I—I wish I could show you what I see.”

  “I,” Lisabetha replied quietly, and with a little sigh for what she'd had so short a time, and lost, “wish you could, too.”

  Nisana rubbed against the girl's arm. Ylia shook herself. “What hour is: it, do you know?”

  Lisabetha shrugged. “Not mid-day, perhaps two hours short. The kitchen smells haven't come this far yet.”

  “Ah. Good.” And, as Lisabetha eyed her warily: “Get Annes or one of the other of your friends to go with you, back down the way we came. Get two of the boys to carry. If Malaeth asks where I am, if anyone does—”

  “You're waiting with the cache, or otherwise not available,” the girl said resignedly. Ylia laughed.

  “Exactly.” ‘Nisana, let's go.’

  'I just returned—,’ the cat began indignantly.

  'And you want to show off your find properly, don't you? Let's go?’

  'You could go by yourself if you weren't so stubborn.’

  'No, I couldn't! Let's go, before I lose my nerve.’ The cat closed her eyes briefly—Just once, if the girl would listen to me, as though she has not put forward the same stupid argument for everything she now does! And, with a touch of self-directed dry humor, And each time I react to her in the same manner, she is not the only one doomed to repeat stupidity. ‘Join,’ Ylia prodded. She loosened the dagger and let it fall into her hand as Nisana bridged them away. Lisabetha stared at the place they had been.

  They stood well within the valley, nearer its southern end; on three sides were mountains, glorious, snow-capped mountains that recalled her childhood view from Koderra. Hills, covered for the most part with low scrubby brush, edged the mountains, and dotted the northern end of the valley. There was a heady scent of sage and sun-warmed earth, an underlying, teasing breath of clover born on an occasional breeze. Tough, wiry grass covered the ground under their feet, interspersed with yellow bell-flower, early lupine. Wild rose brambles pushed against berry bushes, their flat white waxen flowers just beginning to open. She tilted her head back as a whistling scree cut the air, and a hawk soared just above her head, and disappeared into the trees that lined the southern end of the valley.

  Groves of oak and fir, grasses already knee- and waist-high there; to the west, a line of white-trunked willow, aspen and stands of reeds that marked the passage of the stream.

  “Oh, Mothers, it's warm, it's warm.” It was. She'd felt no such air since the previous fall in Koderra. She'd come without her cloak, intending not to stay long, but would not have needed it in any case. She pushed sleeves to her elbows, tilted her head back to catch the warmth of sun on her face—sun that was not marred by icy wind! A tingling along the inner sense roused her: not fear, for once, not warning, but a bubbling joy that burst forth in a laugh.

  She knelt, dug a handful of dirt and let it slide between her fingers. And caught her breath sharply: ‘Nisana!’

  'What's wrong?’

  'Nothing. But I dreamed this place, I saw it! I remember I was kneeling in a warm and sunny place, and there was a sweet scent to the air, and the dirt was warm and crumbly in my hands.’ Her voice died away.

  'It's nothing to fear,’ the cat assured her tartly.

  'No.’ She let the last of the dirt slide, dusted her hand against her worn breeches. ‘It's not that. It's just—if that were all I dreamed, these past days—’

  'You never dreamed before.’ Nisana's thought was suddenly concerned.

  “There are many things I never did before. The soil seems good to me,” she added in a deliberate change of topic. The excitement was building again. “We can grow what we need here! And there is room and to spare for us.”

&nb
sp; Nisana seemed to have caught her mood. She rose up on her hind feet to bat gravely at a butterfly. ‘There is little game for you humans down here, but much in the mountains. There is enough room for those at the Caves, those in Yls—’ She was prattling like a kitten. Ylia bent down and hugged her hard.

  “Your reward for this—”

  'I'll have it if we come here. The Caves do not suit me. This does. But it will need work!’

  “Mmmm. We'll need to place it on the maps, Nisana, so Erken can come here at once, perhaps bring one or two of the herders and the farmers with him. The planting must go forward as soon as possible. If we return soon Erken could set out yet today. I wish we need not, it's so nice here!”

  'And so no doubt he shall. But just look, you see how that stream bends, and the ground on the far side is higher—not unlike the way Koderra was placed.’

  “So much work, thank the Mothers for my council, I could never decide all that faces us alone, cat! But, as it is, I see in this place—”

  “I see in this place,” a loud male voice broken, “a man clad girl and a housepet, and by all the creatures of the Black Well at once, why? I have not been drunk since midwinter!”

  An airless little cry caught in her throat and she whirled. The dagger was still in her fingers. She pulled her sword free. ‘Cat, where? Where is he?’

  'There. Those three little cottonwood? The shade hides him.’

  'I—all right, I have him.’ She couldn't really see much, just the shape of a man.

  “Show yourself!” she shouted. Her voice echoed across the valley, back again.

  “Why?” he demanded. “The girl has a blade! By Lel'San, she has two, like any proper armsman! Might she not slay me out of hand? Perhaps I'll remain here!”

  'I'll cut him in two for that scare, Nisana!’

  'If I leave any of him for you,’ the cat replied flatly. ‘A lesson to us both, it might have been anything behind, not merely one impertinent’ mountain-hunter!’