Chapter Thirteen
Gudrin aimed a thick finger at Telyn. “I would blame you and your beacon first, were it not for the fact that the shade was seen by Brand even before you lit the fool thing.”
Telyn frowned at her nearly full plate of cold breakfast.
“It matters not why,” said Jak, rising and taking up his crossbow. “You say we can ward it off. Let us do so and be done with it. I'll not have such a creature wandering about my island and creating mischief if I can prevent it.”
Gudrin shook her head. “No,” she said, in the tone of one commanding children. She took another gulp of coffee, then turned her baleful eyes full force onto Jak. Jak stood where he was, his legs and face twitching, but not moving.
Brand felt a heat come up his neck and into his face. He stood up, rising to his full height. He was considerably taller than any of them. “Gudrin of the Talespinners,” he said in a loud voice. Some quiet part of him wondered just what he was doing, but a greater part of him pushed past all doubts and worries. “This is the house of Clan Rabing, on Rabing Isle. My brother is the master of this house, and you have taken of his hearth and food. I demand that you reconsider your words.”
Everyone looked at him in surprise. Telyn smiled. Modi's hand moved to the haft of his axe. Gudrin was the last to react. She stood up too and faced Brand. She clutched her package to her barrel-like chest and her rucksack shifted on her back as though it held poached game. Her eyes cut into Brand's gaze and they locked there. Brand resolutely returned the stare, refusing to look down, although it seemed one of the greatest efforts of his life. Vaguely, he wondered if having suffered through the dreadful gaze of the shade he had seen twice now had somehow strengthened him for this encounter. Through sheer determination he held on, managing not to avert his eyes.
Finally, Gudrin nodded. She dropped her eyes first. She rubbed her face, eyes downcast for several long moments. When she lifted them again, the power in them was all but gone.
“You are right. I have behaved without consideration for my host,” she said then she sighed and took her chair again. The others relaxed as well. Jak came to life again and Modi let go of his axe. Gudrin suddenly looked older and smaller. “It is just that you do not know what it is that you wish to face. It is a horror beyond description.”
Brand was a bit amazed to find himself standing there, facing down Gudrin. He frowned and sat down slowly. It was not his normal role to play. He shook himself slightly, wondering what had overcome him. Then he knew: he had not been able to stand his brother looking so weak. Jak didn't deserve that.
“Tell us what you can then, and let us decide,” said Jak.
Gudrin looked around at them, then stood and donned her cloak and her wide-brimmed hat. “There is no way to explain such a thing, it must be seen.”
They all followed her out into the cold gray morning. Corbin led them into the orchard to the fourth row where he had spotted the shade. Jak had his crossbow loaded, Telyn carried her knife and Corbin and Brand carried the axes they had chopped wood with the day before. When they neared the spot, Modi stopped them with a gesture and stumped forward. He crouched to examine the snow.
“That's no use, Modi,” said Gudrin, stepping forward and waving the others to follow. “The shade will leave no tracks.”
For once, Modi didn't heed Gudrin. He raised his thick-fingered hand again, signaling her to stop. Scowling, Gudrin obeyed. She grumbled something about the warrior class of the Kindred. Modi moved around the trunk of the tree with care, until at last he halted with a grunt of recognition. He waved the others forward.
“As I said…” began Gudrin, then stopped. “By the dragon's breath!” she breathed. “There are prints!”
The River Folk crowded around and they could all see the tracks too. Just four horse tracks, all alone in the fresh snow, as if a horse had appeared by the apple tree and then vanished. There were no tracks leading to the tree, nor away from it. Nor was there any way that someone could have jumped a horse to that spot through the trees. The white frost on the branches was undisturbed.
Gudrin was rubbing her face. She scowled and clenched her package tightly to her chest. On her back, Brand saw her rucksack lurch not once, but twice, as though something had fallen to one side and then the other, by itself. Gudrin jerked her head in annoyance. “Quiet!” she whispered over her shoulder. Then she caught sight of Brand watching her.
Brand frowned and stepped toward Gudrin. He wanted to know what was in that rucksack once and for all.
“This is very bad,” said Gudrin before he could speak. “The shade is strong enough to take bodily form, even if for just a moment or two.” She shook her head.
“Doesn't that just mean we could hurt it with our weapons?” asked Jak.
“No, I doubt it. I'm not sure even Modi of the warriors here could best one of them,” said Gudrin, her face was a mass of deep lines. She looked older when she worried. “It takes more than ordinary steel to injure a shade.”
“What should we do?” asked Telyn. Gudrin startled a bit, turning around to notice for the first time that she had come up behind her to stand close.
“You are a quiet one, aren't you?” she asked. She waved her hands for everyone's attention. “Jak, we must leave this place. We must flee. I don't know why the Enemy has his shades after you, but that doesn't matter. We must run to a safer place. And after that, we must find Myrrdin. He may know why you are hunted.”
Jak nodded in agreement. “I think we should head for Riverton. The Harvest Moon Feast and the Offering must be performed tonight. If I can't bring them Myrrdin, then you will have to do.”
Gudrin raised her hands in protest. “But I'm not fit to perform the ceremony! I haven't the craft!”
“Neither have we, nor have any of the other folk of the River Haven,” argued Jak.
Gudrin clutched her package and clenched her eyes tightly, as would someone in prayer. Brand saw her rucksack shift twice more. He and Corbin exchanged quizzical glances. He had seen it too.
Finally, Gudrin raised up her head, and all her years seemed to run through her in a shudder. Brand wondered just how old she truly was.
“I will do it,” she said simply.
They gathered their things quickly and went to the dock in a tight, nervous group. All of them felt that they were being watched. When they reached the shore, they discovered that a third boat was there, a small rowboat.
“That's Arlon Thunderfoot's, the hunter from Hamlet,” exclaimed Brand. “What's he doing here?”
“Careful, boy,” said Gudrin, holding back his arm. They all watched as Modi moved forward to peer into the boat. He signaled for them to approach.
Inside the boat they found only one oar. There was frozen blood on it.
“Where's Arlon?” asked Brand, already guessing the grim truth.
“He's merling food, by the look of it,” grunted Modi. He turned to Gudrin. “We must sink what we don't take.”
Gudrin nodded. She turned back to the empty rowboat and the stunned River Folk that had gathered around it. “I grieve with you all.” She raised up her package above her head in both hands.
“The River gives, and the River takes. In the end, the River knows us all.” she quoted. Then she gestured to Modi, who quickly struck a hole in the bottom of the boat and pushed it out into the flood. The warrior moved to the leather boat that the two of them had come in and scuttled it as well.
“We will all take the skiff,” said Gudrin. “Come.”
Numbly, the four River Folk climbed aboard and cast off. Brand couldn't remember having ever heard of an actual murder before. Certainly, there were accidents along the river now and then, but never an intentional killing. Even though he had not known Arlon all that well, it was difficult to accept that he was dead.